enovel The Frenzied Flesh J.X. Williams [Future Story Codes]

---

.....7762 home .....7764

The Frenzied Flesh ....(69k)    by J.X. Williams

IN THE BOOK, ON LOVE AND SEXUALITY, DR. EDRITA FRIED WRITES: "THE PERSISTENT PURSUIT of ever-new amours is likened to a sport. An amour is often a psychological rescue operation. Don Juan or nymphomaniac states may offer a means of temporarily freeing the individual from involuntary, boring and painful automatizations. A new conquest may bring change, variety and challenge into a life bogged down by rituals and routines." Pete could not stick to one woman very long before he began to get nervous, and that old itchy feeling would come back to his clenched fists. Then, when his eyes became glazed-watch out!

CHAPTER ONE

I WOKE UP WITH A BAD HANGOVER. I GROANED AS I sat up straight in bed and tried to focus my eyes on my feet, which were sticking out from under the sheet. It seemed like I had lour feet instead of just two. I turned my head and saw who the other two belonged to. She was a blonde.

I managed to rise on one elbow. I stayed that way for all of one minute. All I could sec of her was her hair. She had the sheet pulled up over her body and part of her head. I sank back down on the pillow and tried on another groan for size and comfort. There was precious little comfort to be had. After a few more moments I climbed out of the bed, dragging the sheet off her. Her body was sleek and sexy-looking as hell. I made my way to the bathroom and looked at myself in the little mirror over the washbowl. I had trouble seeing the image. The man who was trying to look back at me had red eyes, a redder face, and a sticky look around his lips. I shuddered, and so did he. His black hair was pretty well mussed up. He was scowling at me, too.

I stepped over to the place where the shower should have been and discovered it was still there. I had a hell of a time getting the hot and cold water taps adjusted so that I would neither be frozen to death nor scalded, but finally I did it. I noticed I had one of those hangover hard-ons. I stepped under the stream and the impact of even the warmish water made me jump. The hard-on subsided slowly and I knew my nerves were in bad shape. I told myself that binge was the last one I would go on for the next year, but knew I was a liar.

I couldn't even recall who she was, the woman in the bedroom. Where had I picked her up, if I had picked her up? I got a bar of soap from the rack and began to lather my body all over. The exercise of it, plus the water, brought me out of a good deal of the fog I was in, but only after a time.

I stepped out of the shower and leaned back in to shut the water off. I fumbled around in a lower drawer of the cabinet, found a clean towel and began to dry myself. I had to stop twice because I was still too weak to do it all in one effort. I told myself again, lay off so much booze in the future, Pete Harmon.

I found clean underwear and put it on. Got my blue suit out and looked it over. It was okay. I pulled on the trousers and started looking through the dresser drawer for a suitable shirt. I found one and put it on.

"Where you going, man?" she said from behind me. I turned around, saw her, and caught my breath. She was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Hello," I said. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Yeah," she said dryly. "Sure, man."

"What's the name?" I asked. "I've forgotten already."

"Don't give me that," she said. "Is the bathroom uninhabited now?"

I waved my hand. "Help yourself." She left the room and entered the bath without another word being said. My head was feeling much better now and once again I tried to recall who she was, where I had met her. Not a thing would come to mind, nothing. It was like I had never seen her before in my life. It was like she had somehow arrived during the night, slipped into my room, into my bed and lay there beside me without letting me know about it.

I was trying to comb my hair at the moment. She stuck her head out of the door of the bath.

"Hey," she said, speaking loudly.

I stopped combing my hair and walked over to her'. I could see her bare shoulders and more, but I felt too bad to have much interest in her body at the moment.

"What's the 'hey' for?" I said. "Want something, soap or something?"

"I want you to come in and scrub my back."

I stood looking at her while I considered the idea. I turned my back on her. "I don't feel like it," I said, sounding like a fool. But I didn't feel like it. I didn't feel like getting involved in any such deal. Later maybe, not right now. "Why you," she said, and slammed the door hard.

I grinned and picked up the comb.

Her purse was on a chair near the bed. I walked over, picked it up, examined it for a name. I found, among other things, a driver's license. Her name was Pearl Giska. She was twenty-seven. She had brown eyes. She was five feet and three inches tall and weighed one hundred and eighteen pounds. Her address was 4056 Dupont Street, this city, which was Clarkston.

I put the driver's license back in the purse and took out another card. It said AGVA. I tried to think what that organization was; it had something to do with actors and variety artists. I got it then. This gal was an actress or at least an entertainer.

The Poppy Club hit me-the name, I mean.

I got that much of it. I had been at the Poppy Club the night before. I remembered that much. But still I couldn't place her, or recall how I had hooked up with her.

The only thing to do if I wanted to satisfy my curiosity was to ask her outright. The whole thing struck me as being absurd. What was the matter with me? I hadn't put away that much booze, but if I had it was time to stop drinking.

I waited for her to come out of the bath but it seemed to me she was taking a hell of a long time for a shower. I was feeling better all the time and had even got up to the point of wanting a morning paper. I stepped out of the house and walked swiftly to the corner drugstore-about a hundred feet, got a newspaper and, after waiting several minutes while the clerk took care of an old lady looking for birthday cards, returned to the house. I sat down in the front room and looked through the paper but there was only the usual crap, nothing particularly sensational. I turned to the sports page, glanced over it, then gave the funnies a brief play. I put the paper down and walked to the bedroom. The bathroom door was still closed. I went over and rapped on it.

"Hey," I called, "are you dead in there?"

"Be right out," she yelled through the door. I went back to the front room and sat down again. My head was throbbing. I wanted a small drink to take care of the nerves problem. I went to the liquor cabinet and poured one. I got it down, but not without a lot of shuddering. Immediately I felt better.

She came into the room, her tits jouncing all over the place. She was dressed now and looked good to me. I was sitting down when she came in and I got to my feet. She had a fine-looking ass on her.

"Perfect gentleman, aren't you?" she said lightly. "Well, I had a lovely time with you." She looked at me oddly.

"See you again sometime, huh?"

"Sure," I said, "but before you leave tell me one thing. I seem to have put away more than I thought I did. I can't remember where I met you. Crazy damned thing, eh?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "You hired me to come here, buster. You gave me a hundred clams for staying. My name is Pearl."

"Oh...."

"Oh ... what?"

"Nothing. Good-bye."

"'Bye, buster. Play it cool, man. Come around to the club if you wanna see me again."

"Sure," I said.

"Say ... you sound like you don't believe me."

"I don't," I said.

She shrugged. "Suit yourself, buster. I have to go now."

"Good-bye."

"You're a funny guy," she said, "but a good lay." She opened the door and walked out. Well, I thought, may be a funny guy all right, but I know damned well I didn't give you a hundred clams to stay all night with me.

And the reason I knew this was that I didn't have a hundred clams, nor had I had a hundred clams in over a week. And if I'd had it I wasn't the type of guy who would give it to some dame. Hell no. It was the other way around, if anything.

I looked at the date on the paper. It was May tenth. This was the day Herb Mowren and his wife Ethel would be coming back home. That meant I had to get out of his house immediately. I had been staying here for the past ten days while Herb and Ethel had gone out west on a business trip. They had a kind of company they were trying to get started. It had something to do with beauty supplies, I wasn't sure just what it was. I had told Herb I would be gone before he returned. So-it was time for me to beat it. I didn't want to remain in the house and have to talk to Ethel-not that I minded, but she did. She hated my guts and I was sure she hadn't approved of Herb's letting me stay.

She hated my guts for a good reason, but that's another story.

I went into the bedroom, packed my grips, and carried them out to my car, which was parked in the driveway. I went back into the house and wrote a note to Herb thanking him for the use of the place. I would send some flowers or something to Ethel, even though I knew she would throw them out. It was the least I could do-a sort of peace offering.

I returned to the car after locking the door and leaving the key under the welcome mat as Herb had instructed me. I started the motor, backed into the street, and headed out Highway 14 in the direction of Hoopersville.

At the edge of town I saw a florist. I stopped, went in and ordered one dozen American Beauties sent to the house the next day. I paid for them and went back to the car.

I climbed in and looked at the girl in amazement.

"Who are you?" I asked her. "What are you doing in my car?"

She was a dark-eyed brunette, not more than nineteen. She was smoking a cigarette. Her legs were crossed and she was kicking one foot up and down. Her skirt was extremly short and fitted her hips snugly. I could see at least half of her thighs, they looked great.

"Do you mind?" she asked, taking a deep drag and looking straight into my eyes at the same time, the way movie queens do on the screen.

"Do I mind what?"

She kept looking at me. "Me? I need a ride. Will you give me one?"

I'll give you lots of things, I thought, looking at her jutting bosom. "How old are you, kid?" I asked. I could smell her perfume. It wasn't bad.

"Never mind that," she said crossly. "You give me a ride or won't you?"

I turned in the seat and stared at her. "For a gal who's asking a favor, you're pretty independent. Come off it. Tell me how old you are."

She took a drag and grinned while she was doing it, allowing the smoke to trickle out of the sides of her well-shaped lips. She took another drag, grinned once again, but did not mention her age.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

She didn't answer. I shrugged and started the car motor. "Well?" I said.

"I'll tell you this," she said. "I have to go to Hoopersville in a hurry. I've been waiting here for a bus an hour. I guess I missed the last one. I saw you go into the shop. On impulse I came over and climbed into your car. I figured you were the type of guy who would jump at the chance to drive a young girl anywhere. If I made a mistake I'll get out right now."

"Sit still," I said, grinning back at her. "I'll drive you to Hoopersville."

She laughed now. "I rather thought you would. I can tell." She took a deep breath and her tits looked ready to jump out of her dress.

"No, you can't, sister. It just happens I'm going there. So don't think you're that bright. You aren't."

She took one more drag, tossed the cigarette out the window as I backed out of the florist's parking lot.

"Sorry for the smart remark," she said. "Please don't think I'm not grateful." She tried to pull her skirt down, but I could still see those sexy-looking thighs.

"I'm not thinking anything, one way or another. What's your name, kid?"

I wheeled the car out onto the highway and pressed the gas down. The Ford jumped to life. There was no other traffic at the moment. I kicked it up to sixty-five in no time. She hadn't answered my question, so I put it to her again.

"My name," she said, "is Jennie. Jennie Harper. What's yours?"

"Pete Harmon is what they call me."

"That's what they call you," she said casually. "But what is your name?"

"How come you're so suspicious for a young chick?"

"I've been around," she said. "You got a cigarette?"

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the pack and tossed it into her lap. She picked it up, looked at it, took one out and lit it off the dash-lighter. She burned herself on the lighter and said, "Ouch, damnit." She put the lighter back in its slot with difficulty.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was cute, that was one word for her-Cute, capital C. Sexy-capital S was another. Capital F crossed my mind then.

"You know someone in Hoopersville?" I asked, as I gave the wheel a sharp turn to avoid hitting a rock on the edge of the road.

"No," she said, letting the smoke fly from her mouth with force. I saw that she had turned in the seat and was now leaning against the door with her back. She was looking at my profile, such as it was. I caught a flash of tanned flesh above her stocking and wished I wasn't driving a car.

"You're a big guy, aren't you?" she said suddenly. "How much do you weigh? Did you ever play football or anything?"

I nodded slightly. "Michigan State," I said. "Long time ago, though."

"Couldn't have been too long ago," she remarked. "You strike me as being about twenty-seven or so."

I laughed a little. "I'm thirty-four," I said, "but thanks for the compliment."

She surprised me then. "I like older men. They know how to handle girls better."

"That so?" I said, grinning. "Glad to find that out."

"I mean it," she said. "I hate young punks. Awkward bastards. Don't know anything, some of them-most of them in fact. What do you do for a living, Pete?"

I grinned. "Are we on a personal basis already? If so, tell me where you come from, for one thing. For another, tell me what's on your mind. You aren't talking this way to me for now reason at all."

"Yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Don't forget. You said it yourself. I'm an older man. I know these deals."

"Look OUT...." she yelled, and I turned my head just in time to see a truck heading straight for us. I gave the wheel a frantic twist and we landed in the ditch immediately. The truck roared by, missing the rear end of my car by inches.

We sat there. Both of us were unnerved by the close call. I reached over, got the cigarettes from her and lit one, my hand shaking somewhat.

"Think you can back it out on the road?" she asked at length.

"Yeah, think so. Too close for comfort."

She was sitting slumped down in the seat, her head back against the cushion, her eyes closed. I saw what nice lashes she had; dark, like her eyes. I glanced down. Her skirt had crept higher over her knees, revealing again the shapely, nylon-clad thighs. I looked at them for a brief moment, then studied her bosom, lifting my eyes now and then to watch the road. I felt my pulse quickening. This gal was really stacked.

"Like them?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

I grinned. "Sure. Very nice. How did you know I was looking at you?"

She opened one eye. "I figured you would be, that's all."

"Mmm. Sharp little kid, aren't you?"

She opened the other eye. "I'm not a kid, buster."

"Sorry. Meant no offense. My apologies, please."

"Say...." she said suddenly. "I'll bet you're a nice guy ... sometime."

"Could be. Some people don't think so though."

"You didn't tell me what you do for a living, did you?"

"No, I didn't. Don't think I will, either, not till I know you better." I eyed her speculatively.

"Oh...." she said, smiling. "Are you planning to know me beUer?"

I rolled the window up a little. "Probably."

"May I have another cigarette, please?"

I gave the pack to her. She lighted two-one for me.

"Thanks," I said, taking it from her.

She smiled at me for a long time, moistening her lips frequently. "You were saying?" she said.

"Was I? What was I saying?"

"That you were planning to get to know me. I'm wondering how you'll go about it."

"There are ways."

"Really. What ways? I'm terribly curious." I slowed the car down a little. I pointed ahead. "See that building ... the one on the right?" She looked at it. "Sure, it's a motel." I swung the wheel hard. The car turned into the motel drive.

"Well now ... really...." she murmured. "Aren't you moving rather fast?"

"Yes. I guess you could call it that."

She took a drag. "And I'm supposed to just fall over and play easy. Is that it?"

"Not unless you want to." I searched her face.

"All right," she said, giving the cigarette a toss out the car window. "I want to."

"Good," I said. "So do I. Shall we get out of the car?"

"Well of course, silly. Why do it in the car?"

I jumped out, ran around and helped her out.

"You're a gentleman," she said drily. "You really are, but you know what I'm wondering?"

We were hurrying up the walk toward the motel office. "No, I don't. What?"

"I'm wondering who do you think you're kidding?"

I halted in my tracks, still hanging on to her arm. "Now why say that?"

"Let's go back to the car," she said nervously. "You move too damned fast for me, buster."

"All right, kid," I said, turning her around and leading her back to the car. We got in and I started the motor and drove back out onto the highway.

She was shaking all over. "Brother, you move fast," she said after a moment. "You take a girl's breath away."

"That wasn't what I wanted to take," I said. "It was something else, something little girls have sometimes."

She slapped me.

I reached up and rubbed my cheek. "Ouch," I said. "You don't know your own strength, kid."

"How far is it to Hoopersville?" she asked angrily.

"Maybe five miles, maybe more. Why?"

"You can let me out on the first corner," she said.

I laughed. But when we reached the town I did just that. She swore at me.

"What's the big idea?" she wanted to know, after I had told her to get out of the car and she had done reluctantly.

"Only doing what you asked," I said. "Said you wanted out on the first corner. This is the first one since we hit the city limits."

"Look," she said, coming back to the car door and reaching in to touch my leg, "why not let me go along with you? I have no place to go, really."

I considered. Well, why not? I thought. Hell. "Climb back in," I said shortly. "I always was a sucker for a brunette with dark eyelashes and big tits. Let me tell you one thing, though. The minute you start getting too smart for me, out you go."

"Thanks. I'll try to be real stupid from now on." She opened the door and jumped in beside me again. I caught another whiff of her perfume. It was nice.

"Tell me something," I said, after I had started the car moving again toward the downtown section of the city, "do you live in Clarkston? You must have a home somewhere, a young chick like yourself."

"No," she said, looking away from my gaze. "No home. No people. No job. No dough. No nothing. I'm flat broke. I had a job selling cigarettes at the Poppy Club in Clarkston." at the Poppy Club in Clarkston."

I swallowed. "So you worked at the Poppy Club," I said calmly. "Very interesting."

"Yeah, why?"

"Never mind that. Were you working there last night?"

"Not after ten o'clock. I was fired at that time for not letting the manager feel my breasts."

"What's so terrible about that? I'd like to myself."

"The manager," she said with distaste, "was a lousy dyke. Somebody's going to feel my ass, it's going to be a guy."

I was tempted to feel her ass then and there, but I thought I'd better play it cool for a while longer.

CHAPTER TWO

WE DROVE ALONG IN SILENCE FOR A SHORT WAYS. "I see," I said finally. "Good for you." I paused, then: "I hope you're twenty-one, I'm stopping at the first bar I see. I've got a hangover. Need a small cure."

She bit her lips. "I can pass for twenty-one," she said. "I have before." She must have been reading my mind. That was exactly what I had in mind-getting a few drinks in her.

Up ahead I saw the sign that said BAR. I headed for it, then stopped directly in front and parked the car. "Okay," I said. "Let us enter the joint and partake of medicine, please." I climbed out, went around and opened her door for her. She smiled at this and jumped out on the sidewalk, giving me a cute wink as she did so. I rather liked this kid; she impressed me as being okay. I took her arm-I don't usually do this, but she seemed to want me to-and led her up the three steps to the entrance of the joint. No one was inside the place but the bartender, who was bald, fat and lazy-looking. He took his time about waiting on us.

"Yeah?" he said. He had a beard, not a good-looking one, but one of those semi-goofy-looking affairs in the middle of the chin. "What'll it be?"

"What is it?" I asked her, "Bourbon?" I looked down at her jutting breasts until she turned her face to me and smiled.

"Very good," she said. "I like bourbon." The bartender brought them. She raised the glass and took a small sip. She didn't make a face, but I could tell she drank with an effort. How about a girl of nineteen who hasn't had many drinks, I thought. Hard to believe, especially since she had worked in a night club. I took a swallow of my own drink. It wasn't bad; wasn't particularly good either. The girl reached over and touched my arm.

"I wonder where it is," she whispered in my ear.

"What...? Oh...." I looked around, saw a door. I told her where it was. She put the drink down and slipped off from the stool gracefully, her little rear end doing a lot of wiggling, but doing it in an unconscious manner, not deliberately. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she walked back to the ladies' room and disappered through the doorway. She had a sexy-looking butt, if I ever saw one. It appeared to be begging for action.

The bartender came up, leaned on the bar a few feet down from me. He gave me an odd look. "None of my business," he said softly, "but aren't you taking a chance, mister?"

I stared at him as he tried to stare me down, but his little hard blue eyes wavered and his lips got dry, he licked them, but they got dry again right away, so he licked them again and looked away. His face was red again.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Guess it's none of my business. Ready for another, mister?"

"Sure," I said, "make it a double. Don't think she'll want another. Not so much ice in mine this time."

He nodded and went to fix the drink. I turned in the direction of the ladies' room but Jennie hadn't come out yet. I looked around the bar. There were several booths along one wall and about a dozen tables scattered about, some of which hadn't been wiped off very efficiently, if at all. There were flies flitting about the tables. I looked at my watch. One-thirty. Time for lunch, except I wasn't hungry. I never get hungry after a big night on the town until late in the day; stomach rebels against food. Not good, I suppose, this sort of thing.

The bartender was busy doing something at the other end of the bar when the tall guy entered and took a stool nearby. He was a mean-looking cat; a long scar ran down the side of his face.

"Gin and tonic," he said to the bartender. "Double."

The bartender looked up for a moment, then went on with whatever he was doing, and the man yelled at him. The bartender asked him to repeat the order.

"Gin and tonic, goddamnit," the tall guy said harshly. "Move it, mac, I'm in a hurry."

"Take it easy," the bartender said, looking at me as if to say-Well, another mean character. "A double gin and tonic it is."

He picked up his drink, tossed it off, got up from the stool. "Big tough guy," he said. "Real tough."

The tall man growled something under his breath. He had an unlighted cigarette dangling from his lips.

The bartender set his drink in front of him. The man frowned.

"You," the man said to me. "Light me."

I looked him over, up and down. Moving easily, I got down off my stool, reached into my pocket, pulled out my lighter and snapped it on. Then, moving quickly, I grabbed him from the side and held him. I held the lighter under his cigarette close enough to burn the hell out of his nose. When he screamed I let go of him and stepped back.

"Goddamnit!" he screamed. "You burned my nose."

I grinned, flicked off the lighter and put it back in my pocket. I went back to my stool, sat down and picked up the drink in front of me.

"What'd you do that for?" the tall man screamed at me.

I whirled on him. "Listen, you craphead," I barked. "When you want a light from a stranger, ask for it right."

He looked at me and rubbed his nose gingerly.

"Tough guy, aren't you?" His face was white.

"Tough enough for a craphead like you," I said.

He picked up his drink, tossed it off, got up from the stool. "Big tough guy," he said. "Real tough."

I just smiled at him. He walked out of the bar without paying for his gin and tonic. The bartender called out to him, but he kept on going until he was out of the place.

"I'll pay you for his drink," I said, and did so.

"You don't have to, you know," the bartender said hesitantly. "It's not your debt."

"That's okay. I scared him out of your joint."

"All right, sixty-five cents," he said. I motioned at the change lying on the bar and he picked up the right amount and rang it up in the register. The girl came out of the ladies' room then. Her eyes were bright. I watched her, smiling, while she crawled up on the stool. Her movements were graceful, easy and sexually exciting.

"You," I said, "are a very pretty girl."

"You've already told me that, sir," she said. "You'll have me believing you pretty soon if you keep it up. Shall I drink the rest of my drink, or do you want it?"

This kid pleased me; she was so damned something or other. I didn't know what. Sexy, nice, I guess. "No, I have a drink," I said easily. "Maybe you'd better finish it."

"Okay," she said, and reaching for the glass, picked it up and promptly spilled some of it down the front of her dress. "Oh ... damn," she said.

I grinned and gave her my handkerchief. "You do it, Pete," she said, hanging onto the glass still. "I'm too awkward."

I wiped her off gently, the touch of her making my pulse quicken a little. I caught another whiff of her perfume and it did something to me-something nice. I got an instant hard-on and I knew I had to use it on her soon.

I found a motel after a lot of driving around and turned in. I stopped the car and looked at Jennie.

"It's okay," she said, sensing I had a question for her. "Let's get the room."

"All right, Jennie. Sure you want to?"

"Why do you say that? Don't you want me to stay with you?" She had a lustful look in her eyes now.

I laughed at this. "You're damned right I do, honey."

She grinned. "So you're calling me 'honey' now, are you?"

"Maybe I'm being premature," I said. "Sorry."

"I don't mind. Call me 'honey'. I like it."

"Hasn't taken us long to get to know each other," I said carefully.

She leaned over and planted a wet kiss on my mouth. Then she jumped out of the car. I went inside the office. There was a dopey-looking young guy standing behind the desk, who looked up when we entered. He had a cigar in his mouth and spittle was running down the edge of his chin. He shifted the cigar around in his mouth.

"Wanna room?" he asked briskly, removing the cigar. "Gotta vacancy. Good one. Eight bucks."

I grinned a little. He shoved the register over and I signed my name and added "wife". I put down New York City as my address.

I gave him a ten and he looked it over like it might be a phony. "Just printed it this morning," I said sarcastically. He laughed feebly. "I got two of 'em yesterday. Can't be too careful in this business. Here's your key."

I took the key. He told us where the room was, and Jennie and I went to it. It was number 34. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"Enter," I said, bowing in mock fashion. "Enter and I will have at you presently."

To my surprise she began to cry. I put my arm about her. "What am I going to do with you, kid?" I asked her. "You have to make up your mind. I can't do it for you."

She pulled away from me a little. "I'm crying," she said, "because you're so nice to me."

"Well, cut it out," I said.

We stepped inside and I closed the door. It was a nice room with all the advantages of science, including a TV set and a hi-fi. There was even a small refrigerator in a corner, although I didn't know why. Ice cubes, maybe. There was a door leading into a bath, too. Eight bucks seemed a reasonable price for all this luxury. It looked more like ten or twelve. I took off my coat and asked her if she wanted to take a bath first.

She blushed. "Yes, I would like that," she said. "But maybe you ought to test it out first. See if it's all right or something."

"No, you go ahead," I said. "Think I'll go back to the office and see if I can stir up a bottle. You mind?"

"Of course not. You do as you wish." She bit her lips and asked me a question that startled me. "Pete," she said slowly, "are you gonna screw me regular-like or is it gonna be weird stuff?"

CHAPTER THREE

THE AIR IN THE ROOM SEEMED CHARGED WITH something or other, and I could feel it. It was a hell of a strange feeling. One question from her and the very walls of my mind seemed ready to cave in. I tried not to laugh, but it was difficult. She had been so damned blunt about it, using no cuteness, no beating-around-the-bush stuff, no evasions of any kind.

"You'd better watch that kind of talk," I said, grinning. "Don't forget that you're in my power. I may be the greatest weirdo on earth-maybe I'll want you to regurgitate on my underwear, who knows?"

"Oh bosh," she said and blushed. I felt good because of this bit of silliness as I walked back to the motel office. I had no trouble getting a jug from the young punk. He grinned at me and dug up a jug from beneath the desk. Just like that. He charged me seven bucks, though, for a pint of not-too-good bourbon.

I bought cigarettes and went back to the room. When I entered she wasn't in sight. The door of the bath was closed and I could hear the shower running. I liked this: it meant she was a clean chick and I liked 'em clean-clean and hot.

I put the bottle down, went out to the car, got her small bag and my grips and brought them inside. I removed my shirt because it was slightly warm in the room. At least I was warm. I sat down after opening the bottle and took a slug out of it without bothering to get a glass.

I could hear her singing something or other in the shower. The water had been shut off now, apparently. I could no longer hear it running, but her voice came through easily enough. I recognized the tune as Lullaby of Birdland. So, I thought, the girl likes jazz. Well, fine. So did I. I had even tried to be a jazzman at one time shortly after getting kicked out of Michigan State, but it had been no go for me. I found out very quickly that this sort of thing took talent and a damned lot of it, too. I just didn't have it. Not enough. I thought then about her blunt question and a wave of excitement passed over me.

After a time she came out of the bath. I glanced up at her and she saw me and smiled. She was clad only in her slip. She seemed to realize this all of a sudden, and that same blush came over her face. Strange girl-blushes and uses four-letter words. The two seemed inconsistant. She gave her head a shake like a small girl does when she comes out of the water after a swim.

"You get water in your ears?" I asked, lifting the bottle and taking a sip of the stuff.

She shook her head. Her dress was lying over the back of a chair and this she slipped on over her head with one deft movement. I was disappointed, but didn't show it.

I looked at her bare feet. It amused me to look at them. Everything about this kid was cute. Even her feet.

"Pete," she said. "Can I ask you a question?"

I nodded. "Go ahead. But make it an easy one."

She halted whatever she was doing, fixing her hair or something, bit her lip and frowned a little. "You're going to think I've got a lot of nerve."

"So...?"

"What do you do for a living-first."

"Oh ... you have more than one question. Right now, I'm not doing anything for a living. I used to be a sort of band leader. But now I'm close to being a bum." I watched her eyes to see if she believed this.

She shook her head. "No, you aren't a bum. You'd never be a bum."

I smiled and studied her long legs. They were shaped in just the right way to cause an erection. I soon became very rigid.

I saw she was looking for her nylons. At any rate she was busy, very busy right now, looking about the room.

"Have you ever been-married, Pete?" she asked at length.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just wondering. Don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I was married once," I said. "That was enough." Who wanted to talk about marriage? Sex was what I wanted, not conversation, especially about a part of my life that I wanted to forget.

"Oh...." she said, and whirled as a knock sounded at the door. I swore, got up and opened the door. The tall man with the scar stood there.

"What do you want?" I snapped at him. I knew he had recognized me, too. It showed on his ugly face.

"Looking for Harry Stevens. They told me at the office he was in this room."

"Not here," I said. "What's more, I don't believe you."

Jennie came and stood looking out over my shoulder at him. I could smell her perfume and it made me more rigid than ever.

"Hello, Cromar," she said. "Were you looking for me, too?"

His face seemed to go pale. He didn't really speak to her, but mumbled something or other and walked away. I watched him as he disappeared around a corner of the building.

I closed the door. "What," I asked, "was that for?"

"I don't know," she said, and clutched at my arm. The touch of her hand was nice.

I glanced at her breasts, wanting to run my tongue over them. "You think he was looking for you?" I asked, not caring in the least.

"He's a horrible man," she said. "He's just horrible."

"How is he horrible?" I asked. "You mean he got fresh with you?"

She took her arm away from me and walked across the room. "That man," she said. "Do you know what he does on the side? Besides working the Poppy Club?"

"How would I know?"

"He gets young guys for middle-aged women to play around with," she said, her voice low. "I know he does the other deal, too."

"He's a pimp?"

"Yes. When I worked at the club all sorts of people would come there and draw him off to one side and talk to him. Later, I would see them being introduced to someone younger, someone of the opposite sex."

This kid, I thought, is kind of shook up. Either that or she's one hell of a fine actress. I had another thought, This could be a phony deal. How the hell did I know if it was or not? I decided it was time to find out.

"Jennie," I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Tell me something." I put out the cigarette I had been smoking.

"Sure, Pete. Go ahead."

"Brace yourself, kid," I said drily.

"All right, I'm braced, I guess."

"Have you ever been screwed?"

It was a pretty abrupt thing to say to the kid, but I had to know if she was hip, and this was a good way of finding out in a hurry. I found out right away. The red of her cheeks told me all I had to know.

"Okay, Jennie," I said. "Didn't mean to scare you. Forget it."

"It's all right, Pete," she said slowly. "Why shouldn't you ask? I'm yours because, after all, I'm in your room."

"Maybe you'd better clear out," I said, not wanting her to at all.

"No," she said. "I want to stay here with you, if you want me to." She paused. "Pete...."

"Yes."

"I'm nineteen. I talk bold sometimes, but I've never known sex." She paused again. "It's time I did, I guess. So-if you want to take me, okay."

She should never have said that to me. I knew it at the time. I knew it later. It was the wrong thing to say to a guy like me. Especially a guy like me.

"All right," I said. "Come ... here ... to me. Right now, baby."

She seemed scared. It was too late to be scared now. "Take all your clothes off, Jennie. I want to look you over."

"All ... right," she said. "Pete ... I-"

"Yes?" I said. "What?"

"I guess you'll find me awful dumb, Pete. I don't know anything about it."

I got to my feet and, reaching out, grabbed her arm. I pulled her down on the bed.

"Pete," she said, panting, "the door isn't locked."

I got up and locked it, then returned to the bed. She was lying on it now, looking up at me. There was a strange look in her nice eyes.

"You certain you want to?" I asked. She didn't reply. "Tell me, Jennie."

"All right, Pete, you're going to think I'm awful."

"No," I said. "No. Not that, Jennie. I know better."

"I'm real glad you do, Pete. It won't-hurt me, will it?"

"Probably ... at first ... Jennie...?"

"Yes, Pete, what?"

"Nothing. Move over on the bed, baby."

"All right, Pete. You just do ... whatever it is you do."

I said nothing but began to undress her, for she hadn't done it herself. She sighed a little when I had removed all of her clothes and she lay naked beside me. She kept her arms folded over her large breasts. I knew she was self-conscious.

"Are you going to undress, too, Pete?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad. I never saw a man."

Not knowing whether to believe her or not, I took my clothing off. I was breathing like a stud horse as I lay naked beside her. I put my arms around her and she came up against my body readily enough. "Oh ... Pete ... Please ... hurry!" she panted.

"Sure," I said. "You're a pretty kid, Jennie."

"Am I?"

"Yes." I kissed her on the lips, on her throat, and on her breasts.

She moaned. "Oh ... Pete ... that feels wonderful." With my knee I separated her long legs and got in between.

"Oh ... my God ... Pete ... Oh my God...!"

I entered her with a savage thrust. She was small and tight, and this shuddered. For some reason this excited me all the more. I felt her lips brushing the side of my face. I pulled my head down awkwardly, found her mouth with my own and began to tongue-tease. She apparently loved this, for she became wildly passionate and raked my back with her nails.

"Oh, Pete," she moaned. "I never knew it would feel this way." She moaned again and squirmed as I went deeper. "Pete...." she cried out. "It hurts awful ... oh ... please ... go slow."

I paid no attention to her, not caring if it hurt her or not. She was a big girl now, she'd have to take the pain with the pleasure.

She did.

She took it all; all I had to offer.

The sweat ran off my body onto hers. Several times she bit me lightly on the neck, and the side of the face.

"Cool it," I told her, my voice strained.

"Oh ... Pete ... You're doing it to me, aren't you?"

"Say it," I grunted. "Don't kid around with kid terms, say it outright." I gave a sudden hard thrust, going far deeper than previously.

Her whole body shuddered, but with a sort of rapture.

"Pete...." she moaned. "Do it to me."

"Say it, damn it," I muttered. "Say what you want to say."

She was silent as I plunged ever deeper, stroked ever faster.

"I'll say it, Pete," she panted. "I really will." Big deal, I thought, then why don't you? "Pete," she moaned, thrusting her loins up to meet mine. "I'm getting screwed."

"Right," I said. "You're getting screwed."

"I'm so glad," she sighed. And so was I.

It was four o'clock in the morning when I woke up, switched on the light and looked at my watch on the chair by the bed. It was raining hard outside. I could hear the sound of the drops striking against the window and falling on the roof. I turned and looked at the girl beside me. I grinned a little. She looked ten years old lying there fast asleep. She had a serene look on her pretty face; evidently sex and passion were her cup of tea.

We had gone out to dinner after making love, and had found a small restaurant several blocks from the motel. Then we had returned to the room and gone to bed. There had been no more sex. She had told me a few things about her life: the drunken father; the mother who died when she was seventeen. She had lived with an aged aunt, but the aunt had promptly died of a heart attack. Jennie had then gone to a secretarial school but hadn't finished the course. Later, after several jobs that hadn't paid much, she had taken one selling cigarettes at the Poppy Club. That was her story. I took it with a grain of salt.

I saw her eyes flutter as she came awake. It was odd the way she said it then. Damned odd.

"Pete," she said. "I'm a liar. That man, the tall fellow, is my dad."

I started to say something to her but refrained from it, for I knew she was not awake. She had talked in her sleep. What if the tall guy was her father? Why all the secrecy about it? What was happening with her? Why had she told me her name was Harper instead of-what had she called him-Cromar?

What I did then must have been an intuitive thing, I don't know. At any rate, after making certain she was really asleep, I got out of the bed, picked up her bag and went through it. I got a hell of a surprise.

There was a package of currency in it.

I took the money out, counted it and put it back. The package contained more than five thousand dollars in tens, twenties and fifties.

I got back in bed and reached up to flick off the light when I heard a footstep outside near the doorway. I turned the light off and lay there listening. I didn't hear the footstep again, the sound of the rain preventing it, perhaps. I did hear a car motor being started. In a moment I heard the car being driven out of the court.

I got up on an impulse and drank the rest of the whiskey in the bottle. There was over a half-pint left in it. I forgot my resolution not to overdo the drinking bit again and downed it all, every drop. Then I got back in the bed. I must have gone to sleep then, for it was light in the room when I awakened again. I glanced at my watch and saw it was eight-thirty. I turned to look at Jennie but she wasn't in the bed. Quickly, I sat up and glanced over at the chair where her bag had been. It was gone. Frantically, I jumped from the bed and opened the bathroom door. The bath was empty. I went to the door and tried it, and found it was unlocked.

Jennie was gone.

It was about an hour later that I checked out of the motel. I made inquiries at the office as to whether or not anyone has seen Jennie leave, but the guy in the office knew nothing, apparently.

I had an odd empty feeling inside me for a while. Why had she cut out on me without a word? It didn't seem to be the sort of thing she would do, but then-How well did I really know this girl? The answer was that I didn't know her at all. I had made love to her, slept with her, talked to her, but that was all.

I felt strange about this. It was a funny deal. I would have liked to make love to her once more. Just thinking about her caused me to have an erection.

After the erection had left, I decided to dismiss her from my mind and start looking for a way to make a piece of coin. I needed money badly. I drove around the town for a couple of hours, but finally became disgusted with the place and took off for Clarkston again. I rented a room in a flea-bag hotel and stayed there until the next day. I left Clarkston then-in something of a hurry. I was confused.

The cause of my confusion was on page one of the newspaper I had bought. The police in Hoopersville had found the body of a young girl lying in a ditch about a mile out of town. The description of the dead girl filled me with a cold horror. It fitted Jennie.

The clincher was that the cops had found a woman's bag, too. It had been lying beside the body. There were thousands of dollars in the bag but no identification on the body or in the bag. She had been choked to death, the paper said. The cops didn't know who she was.

But I knew, or thought I did. It was nice little Jennie. Some bastard, perhaps her father, had killed her by strangling her in cold blood.

I went on a hell of a binge that day. There was no reason for it at all. I just did it. I ended up the next day in jail in the next county. The judge let me off fairly easy. I figured I had better start doing something about this heavy drinking. It was getting out of hand. If I stayed away from bars....

A month later I went back to see this doctor for the second time, having told him about the girl during an earlier visit. He was sitting behind his desk when I entered. He looked up at me and smiled effiminately. I grinned back and took the chair across the desk from him. He looked older this morning for some reason and I asked him if he hadn't been sleeping well of late. He laughed.

"It seems to me," he said, "Mr. Harmon is the one who should be asked that question, not me. I sleep pretty well, thank you. The point is-do you?"

"Mind if I smoke, Doctor?" I said, reaching in my pocket for the pack.

"Go ahead. Maybe I'll have one myself this morning. No. No thanks. I can't smoke those filter deals. I'll have one of my own if I can find one." He began searching through a drawer of his desk. He found a pack of Luckies and pulled them out. He lit one off my match.

I took a deep drag on my cigarette. "You asked," I said, "if I sleep well. The answer is so-so, I guess. Sometimes I sleep very hard. Other times I roll and toss all night long. I keep thinking about them."

His cigarette stopped in midair near his mouth. He held it right there without inserting it between his lips. "Did you say 'them'?"

"Well, you know. I don't know if I mean 'them' or not. I don't exactly know what I mean, I guess."

"I see," he said, letting the cigarette finish its journey to his lips. He inhaled deeply, let the smoke out in a hurry. He examined the cigarette, then picked up the pack. "I'm afraid these are stale," he murmured.

"Have one of mine," I said, again offering the pack to him.

He put his own out. "Thanks, Pete."

It was one of the few times he had called me by my first name. It was usually Mr. Harmon this, Mr. Harmon that. I sat there and looked at him, and marveled at how much he looked like Spencer Tracy, only younger. A young Spencer Tracy wearing glasses, however. He lit the cigarette.

"What are you looking at me like that for, Mr. Harmon?"

The question half-startled me. Maybe I flushed a little. "You should have been a movie actor," I said lamely. "I can't get over the resemblence to Spencer Tracy. That's why I was staring."

He grinned. Obviously, it pleased him to have people notice this. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, like an actor might. He looked at me, his gray eyes bright.

"How many times have you been in to see me, Mr. Harmon? Do you remember?"

"Sure. This is the second time. Why do you ask, Doctor?"

He waved his hand. "No reason. I was just wondering."

"I suppose you want to know if I have gone out and put one on lately. Well, I haven't. Not once. I haven't even had a beer. Not even one. I think I'm doing all right."

He looked at me. "From what you've told me, Pete, and from what I can deduce, I don't think you are a true alcoholic. Not yet you aren't anyway."

"That means you think I can get to be one, doesn't it, Doctor?" I asked, but he shook his head.

He leaned over the desk and folded his hands together, still holding the cigarette. The smoke curled up and away from his hands. I noticed that his nails were very well kept, and that his hands were strong-looking-for a doctor.

"Did you ever play football, Doctor?" I asked.

He dumped the ash from the cigarette in the ash tray on one edge of the desk, then kept on dumping it even after there was nothing to dump.

"I wonder why you ask that question?"

"Well, do I have to have a deep dark reason for it?"

"No, of course not."

The two of us were silent for some time. There was a clock on the wall. It ticked away the time. Doctor Freeman had his office in his residence. The city was Clarkston. Clarkston ... Clarkston ... the clock seemed to be saying.

"Oh, that's just damned nonsense," I muttered vaguely.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Harmon?"

I rearranged my thinking in a hurry. "Hell," I said. "Guess my mind was wandering."

"Tell me something," he said, leaning back now in his chair.

"Sure. Go ahead, Doctor. I'll try."

"Have you some notion that you're responsible for the death of that girl?" His question caused me to have an immediate hard-on. This sort of thing was enough to drive a guy nuts. It was so damned idiotic. I took a deep drag on my cigarette. The smoke curled up to the ceiling. I watched it, trying to be calm. It was tough to accomplish.

"I don't know, Doctor. Bothers me. She was such a sweet damned kid. Maybe what I did to her made her remorseful or something. Maybe it drove her out of the motel room, made her want to run away because she was ashamed of having given herself to me so readily. If she hadn't left the room, that fiend wouldn't have caught up with her and killed her. Can you blame me for feeling this way?"

"That's not the point. Of course I don't blame you, but even if I did it wouldn't matter. The point is-if you keep on thinking along those lines you may find yourself getting in over your head."

"You mean going overboard with the booze?"

"That. Or it could be you'll find other ways of doing it. The mind is a strange thing, you know. None of us really understand it. We may never."

"Thinking like I have been is just damned foolishness. That what you mean?"

"Who's to say what is foolishness? You had this experience with a girl. Evidently you liked her quite a bit. Suddenly she was gone. The next thing you learn about her is she has been murdered. Naturally, your imagination is going to work harder than it usually does."

I said nothing for several seconds.

"You think then I should go to the police and tell them I was with her? Is that what you're driving at?"

He gave me a sharp look. "That's your business," he said slowly. "It's not up to me to tell you. You'll have to make that decision for yourself."

"What would you do if you were in my place, Doctor?"

"I'd tell them all about it," he said.

"All right then. That's what I'll do. I should have done so earlier, but I couldn't."

"Oh ... why not, Pete?"

I stuck my jaw out. "Because, damn it, I was drunk."

He was silent for a time. "I'm going to ask you this again. Why have you been coming here to see me?"

He had me there. "I don't know. I heard you were a good man with drunks. Someone told me you'd helped all sorts of people get straightened out."

"Hell, man," he said harshly, getting to his feet. "You don't need help. All you need to do is to go and talk to the cops. You're no drunk. You just think you are."

"What can I tell them?" I said. "I don't want to get mixed up in that deal, that killing. I had nothing to do with it. It happened after she left me."

"Look," he said, glancing up at the clock. "I have to go to the hospital. Come back tomorrow, will you?"

I got to my feet. "Sure. What time do you want me to come?"

"Say ten o'clock in the morning. Okay?"

"Sure," I said, and walked out of his office. The erection had left me.

Why should talking to the doc about the girl have given me one in the first place? Was I hung up on some strange lust of the imagination?

CHAPTER FOUR

I STEPPED INTO THE STREET. THE SUN WAS shining down in bright fashion. My car was parked just around the corner, so I went to it, climbed in and started the motor. I had no more than done so when a cop on a motorcycle pulled alongside me. He made a gesture with his gloved hand.

I waited for him to get off the cycle and come over. "What is it?" I asked.

"Parking," he said. "You parked overtime. I put the mark on your tire. You're twenty minutes over. Have to give you a ticket."

"All right," I said, "Didn't know I was gone that long."

"That's the way it goes," he said, writing the ticket out. He gave it to me after a few moments. I took it and put it in the glove compartment.

"Anything else?" I asked casually. He grinned and went back to the bike, turned around and rose on up the street.

I pulled out into the middle of the street and drove several blocks. When I came to Sixteenth Street I turned right suddenly. I heard a yell.

I slammed on my brakes, jumped out of the car and raced back to where a woman was sitting in a very undignified position on the pavement. I helped her to her feet after asking her if she were hurt. She said no she wasn't hurt.

But she was damned angry. "Why didn't you look where you were going?" she cried. "You might have killed me, you know."

I brushed her off with my hands, then straightened up and looked at her face. She was a woman of perhaps forty-two or three. A good-looking, well-dressed woman. She had blonde hair, the kind that gets that way because of care and treatment. Her eyes were a very deep blue. Ten years ago she had been-without a doubt-one hell of a looker; she still was-for her age.

She was grinning now and I breathed easier.

"Now what am I going to do?" she asked. "My ankle is swelling up. I have over seven blocks to walk. Can't walk that far now." She gave me an odd look.

I caught on easily enough. "I'll be glad to drive you home," I said easily. "After all, I'm the one responsible."

She bit her lips and studied me briefly. "I think I'll accept your offer," she said. "Guess I'll have to. My ankle really hurts."

"Sure. Here, let me help you. Wait a minute. Can you stand alone until I back the car up?"

"Of course I can," she said. "I'm not that badly hurt."

After I had helped her into the car and got it moving-she had told me where to find her address-I offered her a cigarette. She accepted it.

"Get the dash-lighter there," I told her. "I'm driving. You'll have to light your own."

"All right." She pulled the lighter out of the dashboard and lit her cigarette. "Ouch," she said. "I burned myself."

"That thing gets pretty hot sometimes," I said, for something to say.

"I burned my finger. Say," she said, looking at me. "What's your name, if I may ask a personal question without having been properly introduced?"

I grinned. She seemed like a good-natured chick. "Pete Harmon. What's yours?"

"Not so fast," she said, grinning. "I'll ask the questions. I'm the injured party. But I'll tell you anyway. My name is Mrs. Whipple. I'm a rich widow looking for a hot man. Aren't you glad you ran over me?"

I laughed. "Glad I met you, rich widow."

"Why?"

"You're direct, aren't you? I'm just glad I met you. That's all. You strike me as being okay. I like pleasant people."

"You aren't very pleasant," she said, grinning more widely, "you damned near killed me."

"I wasn't watching my driving, I guess. Sony if I hurt you, Should have been more careful."

"Careful," she snorted. "You took plenty of care. You took aim and you hit the target. The target was me."

I laughed harder than before. "You know," I said, "you have a real sense of humor."

"Hey!" she yelled. "Watch it! You nearly crashed into that truck. My God, man, don't you ever watch where you're driving?"

"I saw it," I said, the laugh dying quickly. "I'm sorry if you're nervous riding with me. There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm considered a good driver."

She pointed. "Right there. That brick house on the left; the one that sets back from the street. That's where I live. Turn in the drive, right here, please."

I gave the wheel a sharp turn and drove up the curving driveway. I stopped the car in front of the door.

She opened the car door and tried to get out. Either she was putting on an act or else it did hurt her to step down, for she made a face when her foot came in contact with the ground.

"I guess I'll have to impose on you and ask you to help me inside. My leg seems to have stiffened."

"Your ankle, you mean," I said lightly. She gave me a half-grin. It was a sexy one. There was plenty of promise in her eyes too.

"I'll have to watch that," she said. "First thing I know you'll be thinking I'm trying to entice you into my parlor."

"Go ahead and entice me," I said, after coming around the car to take her arm. She leaned on me a little more than I thought was absolutely necessary, but I didn't care. Hell, she was just being a woman, and a nice pleasant one at that.

We walked slowly up the steps and onto the wide front porch.

"Damn!" she said, groping through her purse with one hand while she held onto me with the other. "I forgot my key. There's no one here, either. Will you go around to the rear and come in through the kitchen and unlock the door?"

"Sure," I said. "Can you stand alone now?"

"I think so. But hurry. I am in dire need of a drink."

"I'll do it as quickly as possible," I said, and left her. I walked around the house until I found the rear door. I stepped inside the kitchen. It was one of those five-thousand-dollar kitchens you read about in women's magazines. There was every piece of equipment ever heard of. I walked through the kitchen, up a long hallway, went through a wrong doorway, retraced my steps and finally got the front door unlocked. I helped her into a large room that was obviously the front room of the house. It had all the new type of furniture in it. It was as futuristic as tomorrow.

"Help me to the sofa, Pete," she said, "and then please fix me a bourbon and water. You'll find everything over there in the cabinet."

I did as she asked. When I had handed the drink to her she looked up at me with those sexy blue eyes and said, "What about you? Don't you drink?"

I considered. "Sure," I said, "but later. I don't want a drink right now." I looked over at the liquor cabinet. "What's that curtain behind the cabinet? Looks like there might be a miniature stage or something behind it."

She was a trifle embarrassed. "Look," she said, rubbing her leg just below the knee, "go pull the curtain. If you aren't a prude, that is. You'll get a surprise. It's something my husband fixed up several years ago when he was alive."

She didn't look at me when she said this. I had an intuitive feeling that she was embarrassed, but determined not to be. With curiosity burning me up I walked across the room and stopped in front of the curtain. It was a dark brown in color, almost black.

"Go ahead," she called over. "You'll find the cord at the right-hand side. Pull it."

I found the cord and gave it a quick yank. The curtain came apart much like one in a theater. I got a surprise as I stood looking at the thing.

It was a bronze statue about three feet high. It was the statue of a man, a weird-looking man, who appeared to be part ape. There was a leer on the face, and the statue was naked and in a state of readiness. I drew the curtains back and crossed back over the room to the sofa. She was looking at her ankle when I sat down in a chair nearby. She kept on examining her ankle. There was nothing wrong with her ankle, I felt sure. She was just not too certain of how I had reacted to the statue, and consequently preferred not meeting my eyes.

"Quite a statue," I remarked casually. "It must create a sensation at parties. Or don't you show it to people?"

"No," she said, looking up at last. "I'm really quite sensitive about it. It's ugly."

"I've seen worse things than that in real life."

I saw she was looking at my hands now. I shoved them in my pants pockets as casually as I could. She saw this and her brow puckered.

"Why are you ashamed of your hands? I like a man who has mammoth hands. It suggests strength and power and confidence. Take them out of your pockets. I want to look at them."

Reluctantly, I removed them from my pockets and held them out in front of her. She stared at them for a long time. Then she took one of my hands in both of hers and began to rub it gently. It caused the hair on the nape of my neck to stand.

I pulled my hand away from hers.

"What is it?" she asked carefully.

"It's nothing," I said. "Think I'll have that drink with you now."

"Help yourself, Pete. Hope you don't mind my being so terribly familiar and calling you 'Pete' all the time. I feel as if I'd known you for quite a while."

"That's okay." I mumbled. "You have another drink? By the way, you haven't told me your first name. Will you?"

"Helen," she said.

"Look," I said abruptly, "I think I had better forego that drink and get the devil out of here." I started for the door. "Sorry I struck you with the car."

"Pete ... Pete ... come back. Don't leave me ... please don't."

But I was out the door. She came running after me. I stopped and stared at her. "Your ankle," I said dryly, "seems to have improved rapidly."

She flushed. "All right, so it isn't hurt as bad as I made out. So what...?" She grabbed hold of my arm. "What does that matter? I don't want you to go, Pete."

I acted on impulse. I put both my arms about her. She lifted her head, stood on her toes, and let me kiss her, hard. She ran her tongue around a little. She was breathing fast.

I picked her up bodily and carried her over to the sofa. She was kissing me with wild abandon as though she was starved for love. I placed her down easily on the sofa. Her blouse came apart, the buttons coming undone when I tugged gently at it. She was wearing no bra. Her breasts came tumbling out of the blouse. They were large, round and red.

"Pete...!" she moaned. "Oh ... Pete...!"

I reached down and pulled her skirt well up over her knees. Her legs were round and solid, and well-shaped. I ran my hand up under the skirt. She caught my hand with both of her own.

"No, Pete, no."

"Yes," I said.

"All right ... but not here. The servants will be returning. Carry me to the bedroom, that door over there, Pete."

I picked her up and her blouse came all the way open. Her breasts were beautifully shaped. They had little red nipples like a young girl's. I buried my face in them, biting them. She moaned a little, not much. Through the bedroom door I carried her, then put her down gently on the bed.

She began to tear her clothes off. I removed my own and stood naked before her. She lay on the bed, ready for me, and panting.

I lay down beside her and ran my tongue over the side of her face.

"Oh ... Pete ... you send me...!"

I crawled up on her and she moved to receive me eagerly. I rammed it all the way in and she screamed from the pain of it.

"Shut up!" I barked. "Don't scream."

She seemed not to hear me. "Oh! Pete, take me, baby! Do it to me hard ... please!"

I moved fast on her, in her. My erection was hurting her considerably, I knew. It was extremely hard and I used it brutally, because that was how I felt. Brutal. She wrapped her legs about mine and pressed on my buttocks with her hot hands. I felt her bite my shoulder, felt the blood come, but I couldn't have cared less.

"Pete!" she cried. "Faster, Pete!"

I moved on her as fast as I could without breaking contact.

"Hurt me, baby," she begged. "Hurt me, hurt me."

"Shut up!" I cried. "Don't say that."

She moaned. "Please ... please hurt me."

I moved even faster now, going deeper with each stroke. She began to whimper then, and a moment later stiffened her body, arching her back and thrusting her hot loins up at me, meeting my own in a perfect union.

I let her have it then, all of it.

Afterward. I lay limply on top of her while she begged me for more of what I wasn't at the moment prepared to give her.

Passionate chick. But crazy. Crazy chicks are no good for anything. Except for laying, of course.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE NEXT DAY THE DOCTOR LOOKED STRANGE when I told him about meeting Helen Whipple and having the brief affair with her. I wouldn't have bothered mentioning it to him except that he had asked me if I had taken a drink the day before. I had, of course. I'd had several after our sex session.

"Tell me something, Mr. Harmon. Do you want me to help you quit black out again?" The doctor was watching my face closely. I was sitting across the desk from him.

"No. Not that many."

"Tell me something, Mr. Harmon. Do you want me to help you quit drinking."

"Right. I do. I don't think I have any business drinking. Not at all. I've seen too many men who made damned fools of themselves drinking. I have sense enough to know I'm heading in that direction. I want to knock it off before it's too late. I don't want to get to be a goddamn lush."

"That's admirable. Do you have any money, Mr. Harmon? And forgive me for putting it so bluntly."

"I have a little in the bank. Not much."

"How much?"

I shifted about in the chair. "About two hundred dollars."

"Not enough. Can you get hold of a thousand dollars?"

I took out a cigarette and lit it. "Why so much, Doctor? Are you planning on sending me to an institution where they'll nip it in the bud?"

"Something like that, but it will take money."

"Can't raise that much money. It's out of the question. Sorry."

He stood up. "Then I can't help you," he said tersely. "Oh, I can write you a prescription for drugs that will tend to stave it off, but that's all. This sort of thing is tough to deal with. You probably know that."

I stood up, too. "Then I'm wasting my time and yours, Doctor."

"I'm afraid so."

I pulled out my billfold. "How much do I owe you?"

He told me and I paid him. I walked angrily out of the office. The bastard. And he was supposed to have such a fine rep for helping people like me. He was nothing but a damned quack.

I went out and climbed into my car and drove directly back to Helen's place. I parked the car in the drive and went in. She had told me to come back; had even pleaded with me to do so.

So-here I was.

"Pete," she said, when she saw me entering the front room. "Honey, come here and kiss me."

I didn't want to kiss her, but I did. I had an idea in mind. It wasn't the sort of idea that people look upon as being worthy. It was simply this: Get to know Helen better and borrow money from her somehow.

Just like that. The hell with morality.

"Helen," I said. "I'm going to say something to you that's very frank. I don't want you to take offense, but if you are offended by it, say so and I will get out. This is it. I want to live here with you for a while."

Her eyes grew bright. There was no expression in them, they were just very bright-looking. "Sit down, Pete," she said gravely. "What you have just said doesn't offend me. I'm glad you said it. I've been alone for too long a time. I accept your offer."

"My offer?" I said, amazed at her words. "It's not an offer, it's a request."

"Let me tell you something, Pete. I think you already know it. Maybe you do. That statue over there that shocked you so. My husband wasn't the one responsible for it. I was. I had it made to order. I had it made because sexy things like that amuse me. My husband was no good, Pete-I mean no good sexually. He was impotent almost from the time we were married. I'm a very passionate woman, and always have been. I was taken by my stepfather when I was eleven years old. It left no mark on me the way it's supposed to, because I was the naughty little brat who enticed him into raping me. I wanted him to. I made him do it to me. And all the time I was married to my husband, I was dissatisfied and unhappy and miserable. I once hired a young man to drive me around town-not because I couldn't drive myself, but because I wanted him for other purposes, and he was perfectly willing to take my money for this. So-" she looked at me and smiled, "you see your offer doesn't shock me at all. It pleases me. I want you to stay here. In fact, I was trying to figure out a way of asking you to do just that when you came into the room now."

I grinned at her, and kissed her on the mouth. "It looks like everything will be fine then," I said.

"I have money," she said, reaching out and putting her arm about my waist. "What good is money if you can't buy what you want? Not that I'll buy you, Pete, but my money is yours, within reason, of course. Is that okay?"

"Looks like we have a deal," I said. "You won't half-kill me with sex, will you?" I added, grinning.

"I may," she said. "I'm the sexiest creature you ever met, I'll bet."

"I have a reason for asking you to let me stay here," I said.

"Sure you have," she said. "You need money for some purpose. I'm sexy, Pete, but I'm not stupid."

I said nothing. I just looked at her and stroked her breasts.

"I can tell there's something bothering you, Pete," she said at length. "And I don't think you know exactly what it is. Am I right?"

"Yes," I said, surprised at her insight. I hesitated before going on. "I keep kidding myself that I'm worried I'll turn into an alcoholic, but deep down inside I know that's nonsense." I told her about having been to the doctor.

"You have no idea of what it is, but it's something lousy."

"Maybe you only imagine it is," she said wisely. "Maybe," I said. "I hope so."

"Why are you shoving your hands in your pocket? Are you ashamed of their size?"

I was startled and yanked my hands out of the pockets.

"You weren't aware of having done that, were you, Pete?"

"No."

She looked up at me. "Is that what's bothering you, Pete, your big hands?"

"No. That would be silly."

"Yes, it would be very silly." She removed her arm from about my waist and straightened up to reach for the cigarette case on the end-table. I held my lighter out for her.

She inhaled deeply, letting the smoke drift out lazily.

"You'd better get your things and move in, Pete, right now. I'm afraid you might change your mind, you see."

"Everything I own is in the car," I said. "Which room do you want me to have?"

"Silly," she said, smiling. "The one next to mine." She paused, looking at me lustfully. "Unless of course you'd like to sleep with me." Again she paused. "I warn you, however, if you sleep with me, I'll probably wake you up a lot ... by going down on you."

It was nearly a week later that I saw the tall man with the scar again. I was pulling my car into the driveway when I saw him driving a new Buick down the street. I would have recognized him anywhere.

I backed out of the drive as quickly as I could and followed his car halfway across the city. When he finally parked in front of an apartment building, I did the same.

I had to run to catch up with him. He turned when he saw me and stared blankly at me.

"Mr. Cromar," I said. "I'd like a word with you."

His eyes were cold. "Do I know you?" he asked.

"We've met," I said. "I want to ask you about your daughter."

"Do you know her?" he said. "I'm just on my way up to see her."

I stepped back away from him. He looked at me oddly.

"I thought she was dead," I mumbled.

"Are you drunk, mister?" he asked contemptuously, then turned and walked into the apartment building before I could say another word.

With my head spinning I went back to the car, climbed in and drove back to the house on Sixteenth Street. When I went in I found a guy sitting on the sofa smoking a cigarette. He had a drink in his hands. He looked up when I entered and grinned at me.

"Hi," I said, wondering who he was. "Is Mrs. Whipple about?"

He got to his feet. "You must be Pete Harmon," he said. "I'm Helen's attorney. She left the room for a moment. Sit down, why don't you, and join me in a drink."

We shook hands. I sat down and looked at him with interest.

"Pete," he said, and then paused to take a drink. He went on: "I hope you don't mind my calling you by your first name."

"Not at all. I didn't get your name."

"Giska," he said. "Harry Giska."

The name struck a chord in me somewhere, but I couldn't place it. I felt nervous suddenly, but I didn't know why. Giska? Giska? Where had I heard the name before?

"Helen asked me to come here and have a talk with you, Pete. She's too shy to do it herself."

"About what?" I said, my heart racing a little.

"She wants you to marry her, Pete, right away."

I stood up. "Well, why the hell couldn't she say this instead of calling you in, Mr. Giska?"

He just looked at me. "You'll have to ask her that."

"All right, I will. Where is she?"

"I'm right here," Helen said from the doorway. "I see you've met Harry. Sit down, Pete. Please."

"Okay," I said. "Come in and tell your boy to pick up his papers and beat it. Then, if you have something to discuss with me, I'll listen. Not before."

Harry Giska's face went white. He got stiffly to his feet. He picked up his case, went to the door, then stopped. "Helen," he said, "I've warned you. If you persist in making a fool out of yourself over this bum, then you can look elsewhere for whatever advice you may feel you need.

Good day." He stalked out of the room and the two of us sat there looking at each other.

"Why did you make him angry, Pete?"

"Never mind that, Helen. Let's have a drink."

"I'd love to have a drink with you, Pete. I'd love doing tots of things with, you, if you know what I mean."

I knew what she meant. I got a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and brought It and two glasses over to where she was sitting now. I poured two long drinks and gave her one.

"Now," I said. "You and I are going to drink until we are drunk. How does that strike you, Helen?"

"I don't want to, Pete," she said, looking at me oddly.

"Why not? What's wrong with getting drunk?" I scowled at her.

"What's wrong with you, Pete? Are you angry because of Harry?"

I set my drink down. I stood up, and slapped her.

Her face went white. "Why, Pete, I don't understand."

I slapped her again. "Do you understand that, Helen? Do you understand what a slap in the face is?"

She threw the drink at me. I was calm now, far calmer than I would have thought possible for me to ever be. I took out my handkerchief and wiped the whiskey from my face and neck and hair. Then I took the glass out of her hand and set it down. I reached down, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her to her feet.

"The next time, Helen," I said harshly, "that you take it into your pretty head to proposition me about anything, you come to me with it and not to some craphead of a lawyer. Do you follow that?"

"All right ... Pete," she said, looking bewildered, her tone of voice faltering. "Anything you say, honey."

"It had better be that way, baby." I told her. "Don't try manipulating me. not ever. I'm liable to lose my temper and beat the hell out of you."

Her eyes grew lustful again and I realized she was a kook of some kind-she actually liked to be threatened by me. Evidently, she got a kick out of it. Her eyelids half-closed and I saw her lips part. She ran her tongue over them and glanced down at the front of me.

"Pete," she said. "I see you have a hard-on."

I hadn't been aware of this, strangely enough. I touched myself and was surprised to discover it was true. "I seem to have," I told her. "What about it?" My pulse was racing.

"Come close to me, Pete," she said, as she sat on the edge of the sofa.

I went close to her, looked down into her eyes and saw the incredible amount of lust in them. "What do you want?" I asked foolishly.

"Stick it," she whispered.

"What?"

She parted her lips more. "Stick it ... please...."

"Put it in?" I asked, even more foolishly. "My mouth," she said, her breathing having increased its speed. "Stick it."

"You want me to do that, baby?"

"Yes ... please ... stick it in."

I prepared myself, thinking, Man, have I got a hot one on my hands here. I had no time to think of anything else because I felt the warm wetness of her lips as she encircled me eagerly and began to....

I leaned over and held myself erect by pushing down on the rear of the sofa. She clasped my buttocks and drew me closer to her lips.

She took me all the way then, all the way to heaven.

CHAPTER SIX

LATER, I LAY ON THE BED IN MY ROOM. I KNEW IT was late because. I had looked at my watch before. At that time it had been past midnight. I had then drifted off to sleep. I hadn't completely undressed-I still had my trousers on. I hadn't wanted to go to sleep for a reason I couldn't figure out-there was an uneasiness within me, a disturbed quality, if it could be called that. My head seemed to be swimming, my thoughts uncertain.

I sat up in the bed. My face was drenched with sweat. I reached up and started to flick on the light overhead, but refrained from doing so. Instead, I crawled out of the bed partway and began removing my clothing. I groped around and found my pajamas on the foot of the bed. I drew them on. The top of my head seemed to be coming off and I knew I had drunk far too much whiskey with Helen. We had sat watching television until quite late, matching drink for drink with each other. She could hold it, all right, and better than I could. Still, I didn't feel drunk at the moment. Not particularly. I felt vague, damned vague, and uneasy.

I lay back down on the bed, my head coming into contact with the pillow but it was too flat. I sat up, grabbed up the pillow, pounded it about until it was round and more comfortable to place my head on. It was warm in the room, so I kicked off the sheet.

My mouth was dry. I needed a drink of water. I crept from the bed without turning on the light to the bathroom, groped about, found a glass, filled it with water from the cold water tap. I tasted the water, and it was too warm. I poured it out and let the tap run for a long time. I refilled the glass and drank the water in one gulp.

I returned to the bedroom and put the window up. The air outside seemed dead and still, and I could feel no current coming in through the window. The sweat was running down my face in a torrent; it got in my eyes, making them smart. I wiped my face with the tail of my pajamas and with the sleeves, when I discovered that the tail was as damp as my face, or nearly so.

I stepped cautiously across the darkened room to the door and opened it, hoping to let a little air in that way:

I stood there in the doorway. I thought I heard someone talking at the foot of the stairs, for my room was on the second floor. I hadn't wanted the one next to Helen. It had been her husband's room and it was still filled with his personal possessions; books, that sort of thing.

I listened. It was Helen talking in a low tone. Who would she be talking to at this late hour? I could catch only parts of what she was saying. It sounded like she was talking to another woman.

I left the doorway and walked quietly to the top of the stairs. I could hear much better now.

"He's wonderful," Helen was saying. "He's just the way I hoped he would be."

I went down a few steps, taking care that the boards of the stairs didn't creak. I stopped and listened again.

"Did he see the Morka?" the other woman asked.

"Yes," Helen said. "He noticed the curtain and I told him to draw it back and see for himself."

"What did he say when he saw it?"

"Nothing much. He didn't seem shocked very much by anything."

The other woman laughed a low type of laugh. "How in the world did you ever get him to come here?"

"I waited on the corner and when Pearl came out of the doctor's office and told me he was coming, I watched for him. When he turned the corner in his car I screamed at him. He stopped his car and came running back and I told him he had struck me with the car. He believed me."

"Then Doctor Freeman didn't send him to you."

"Not as I had told him to. No. But Pearl knew when he was to return to the office and she kept me advised. It was really quite simple to get hold of him."

I moved down a couple more steps. They were talking low now and I had to strain to hear.

"Now that you have him here what are you going to do?"

Helen laughed. "Well, what do you think?"

"You've been after him for a long time, Helen?"

"Yes, and he doesn't suspect it, either. If he ever knew-"

I couldn't hear the rest of it. Someone had apparently entered the house by way of the front door, for I now recalled having heard it open and close softly a moment before, and was now coming into the front room where Helen and the other woman were talking.

I heard Helen say, "Hello, Pearl. Didn't Harry come, too?"

The woman called Pearl must have answered, for the voice that spoke now was not that of the first woman.

"Harry refused. He said you were being idiotic. He said he was done."

There was a silence. Then: (Helen's voice) "Harry is a goddamn fool. He always was a fool."

"I see you have the Morka in view, Helen. Isn't that the most intriguing thing you ever saw?"

There was more silence except for the soft sounds of people walking slowly across the floor.

"Why not light a candle and stick it up, one on each side maybe?" someone said.

I couldn't hear what was said then. They had closed the door leading from the front room into the hallway.

I went back up the stairs after a few moments. The vagueness had all left me. My brain was working overtime now. I went into my room, turned on the lights, and sat down on the bed.

Pearl had been the name of the woman who had come in. Harry was connected with her. Harry's last name was Giska. It came to me now-the connection. Pearl Giska. I remembered the woman with whom I had awakened in bed at Herb Mowren's house. Her name had been Pearl Giska.

So what the hell was going on here? What had Helen meant when she said she had "got me here"? Got me here for what? Did these women have some kind of private sex cult going? Had Pearl Giska gone home with me that night for some other reason than just sleeping with me?

Oh, the hell with it, I told myself. What do I care what Helen and her friends are doing?

I got up from the bed, went in and had another cold drink of water. I wished I had a drink of something stronger. Helen had asked me if I had wanted to keep a jug in my room. I had refused this because I didn't want one staring me in the face every minute I was here. I wanted to cut down on the damned drinking if I could.

I came out of the bathroom. That's when I saw the bottle on the dresser. I hadn't noticed it before. It hadn't been there when I had first gone to bed, I was certain.

I picked it up, took the cap off and had a small drink. I put it back down. I knew now that Helen wanted me to take a drink now and then, but why? Why had she sent the bottle up? Angrily I picked it up again and, opening the lower drawer of the dresser, I started to shove it in out of sight. I paused. I stared into the drawer. I bent over and looked at the picture curiously. It was a photograph of me in a football uniform, taken ten years or more before. I was standing with a football under my arm, my head cocked to one side. I was bareheaded. It wasn't an action shot.

I reached in and took the photograph out. I stood looking at it for a long time. I put the bottle down on top of the dresser and forgot about it for the moment. I couldn't imagine where this picture had come from. Had Helen known me when I was a football player in college? Had I known her (with a different name; perhaps she might not have been married then)? I searched my memory but could not come up with anything. Had I ever known anyone by the name of Whipple? Could have, I wasn't sure.

I saw the number 31 on the sweater.

I put the photograph back in the lower drawer and closed it.

I took another drink, turned off the light, crawled into bed and lay there thinking for a long time before I dropped off to sleep.

I had a hell of a dream.

I was playing in a yard (in the dream) and my mother called me indoors. I didn't want to go in. She sent my father out to get me. He got hold of my arm and almost dragged me inside the house.

"Nothing."

"Yes, you were, Peter. I saw you. It looked like you were trying to hurt her. She is just a little girl and you are ten years old. You should be ashamed of yourself, Peter."

"I wasn't doing nothin'."

"You were. Don't you lie to me, young man. I'll have your father whip you with the strap."

"All I was doing was pretending I was the Mad Choker," I mumbled. "Like in those Mad Choker books Uncle Clarence bought me."

Mother looked at me. "I knew it. I just knew it. That uncle of yours, buying those terrible books for a little boy."

"I was just pretending like I was him," I said.

"George," she called to my father. "Whip him. He is being terrible."

"Oh, let the boy alone, Clara. He was just playing."

Mother hit the ceiling. "Whip him and whip him so he will know it and remember it. I'm not going to allow him to treat his little sister that way. It's time he learned something."

"Leave him alone, Clara, for heaven's sake. Anyone would think you hated him. I can't see as he's done anything bad." Father turned to me. "Were you angry when you were playing with Mary, son?"

"Yes, I was. I hate her."

"You see what he's like, George. He's just as mean as he can be. I insist that you whip him."

"All right, Clara. Come along, you," Father said to me. "I'll teach you."

He took me to the garage and whipped me, but not too hard. "Now," he said, "young man, will you learn to behave yourself in the future?"

"I'm sorry, but I was just pretending."

"Then pretend something else, something not so rough."

"I'm sorry."

"Now go to your room and stay there until your mother or I tell you to come down for supper."

"Mother," I said bitterly. "She'll never let me come down, never. She don't like me 'cause I'm a boy."

"Don't you dare talk that way about your mother, Pete."

"It's true."

He sighed. "Well, try not to let it get you," he surprised me by saying. "Your mother is a strange woman-sometimes. You try to be good, though, will you, Pete?"

"Sure. And when I grow up I'll get away from her, you can just bet, I hate her, too. She's wicked. I know she is. I saw her with that Mr. Avery that comes here."

He struck me hard in the face. I wanted to kill him then and there, but I wasn't big enough.

I woke up suddenly. I was in a sweat to end all sweats. I was wringing wet from my hair to my feet. I reached up and turned on the light.

Helen stood in the doorway. She was in her pajamas, her breasts easily visible. She had a startled look on her face. The act of turning on the light had apparently taken her by surprise.

"Helen," I said, blinking my eyes, "is there anything wrong?"

"No, Pete," she said. "I thought I heard you yelling, so I came to see if you were all right."

I forced a laugh. "Taking care of mama's little boy, I see."

She bit her lips. "Don't be sarcastic, Pete. Were you having a nightmare?"

"Maybe. Come here, and get in bed with me." I moved over and crooked a finger at her, trying to make it seem playful-like. It went over like nothing at all.

She turned her back on me and stepped back through the doorway. She started to pull the door closed after her, but I jumped up, grabbed the knob and yanked. She came in with the door. I grabbed her hard.

"What's the matter with you?" I said.

She looked up at me. "Nothing's the matter with me. It's you I'm thinking about."

I released her. "Go on," I snapped. "Beat it. Go back downstairs and join your friends in front of the statue. That sort of thing is more your speed, Helen."

Her face got a little white. "How did you know about that, Pete? Were you eavesdropping?"

I looked at her. She seemed actually angry. I turned around, went over to the table by the bed and lit a cigarette. When I turned back around she had gone. I stood there smoking the cigarette and wondering if I had really yelled something in my dream, or if she had come to the room for quite another reason. I was curious as to whether the women were still downstairs or not. I put the cigarette out and stepped out of the room and down the hall. At the top of the stairs I paused and listened for the sound of their voices. I couldn't hear anything except a clock ticking somewhere, probably at the foot of the stairs. I went down a few steps and stopped. A door slammed somewhere, followed by the sound of running feet. I went all the way down the stairs. I reached the bottom just in time to see a young woman going out the front door. "A hell of a lot of activity for this time of night," I muttered. "What in hell is going on?" I strode over to the door of the front room and opened it. I did this softly; something told me to be careful about making noise.

The lights of the room were dim. I could make out someone standing across the room from me but little else except the vague shapes of furniture pieces. There was a tiny light on over the statue at the other end of the room. I could smell something and thought it might be incense, but that seemed un-likely, so I sniffed again. It was incense.

My eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness now and I could faintly see Helen kneeling in front of the statue. She was alone in the room. She was making gestures in front of her body, vague gestures. But not so vague that I couldn't pick out the meaning of them.

She looked to be indulging in some sort of crazy phallic worship.

I spoke then: "HELEN...."

She jumped to her feet immediately. Without a word to me she reached over and pulled the cord that drew the curtain covering the statue. She flicked on another tiny light as she stood several feet from me; her head held back, her eyes looking directly into my own.

"Yes, Pete?" she asked.

"What were you doing?"

She drew the collar of her pajamas and robe up tight about her lovely neck. She took a step toward me and stopped.

"What is all this, Helen?"

"What do you think, Pete?"

"I don't know what to think. So I'm asking you to tell me.

Her jaw jutted a little. I could see her much better now. She seemed very calm, natural and didn't appear to be embarrassed by the fact that I had seen her doing something nutty.

"Why should I discuss it with you, Pete?"

This surprised me. "Well, why not tell me? I won't mention it to the papers."

"You would never understand it."

"Maybe I would," I said sarcastically. "I've seen all kinds of weird deals in my life."

"I don't want to talk about it."

She was so damned calm. Still, there was no good reason why she should feel embarrassed by what she had done. She knew, probably, that it wasn't in me to be easily shocked by anything of this nature.

"Helen," I said softly, "I remember Pearl Giska. I slept with her not too long ago."

She laughed lightly. "Of course you did. I arranged it."

It was time to go easy. I pulled my cigarettes out and started to light up again. "All right, Helen, you can have your mysterious secrets. Why not come to bed with me and forget all this, for the moment?"

She came over and put her hand on my arm impulsively. "Sure, Pete. But will you go up and wait for me? I have something to do first."

"What?"

"No. Don't ask me that. Just go up to your room and wait a little while. I'll come."

I shrugged. It was too damned mysterious for me. I nodded to her, turned and left the room. I noticed she quietly closed the door after me, and this aroused my curiosity, but I put it down and ascended the stairs to my room.

I extinguished my cigarette, took off my pajamas and crawled into bed. I waited quite a while before I heard her footsteps coming along the hallway. The light was off in my room. I didn't turn it on. I could barely make out her form as she came through the doorway. She was carrying something in her hands. Whatever it was she set it down on a small table by the door. She bent over it and struck a match. I sat up in the bed to see what she was doing. I saw, all right.

She was lighting a stick of incense. After a moment I caught the odor of it, a strong sweet smell. She put the incense in an ashtray.

My God, I thought, the woman is nuts. She's making a crazy ritual of sex. I felt like laughing, but I kept my mouth shut tight. What the hell? Let her have her nutty ideas if she wanted them. What did I care?

"Pete," she said, from across the darkened room. "Art thou there?"

I flicked on the light. "What's with this 'Art thou there?' deal, Helen?"

To my relief she giggled like a schoolgirl. Well, maybe she wasn't altogether nuts if she could still giggle.

"Come here, Helen, and get in beside me. I thought you would never come, baby."

I felt about as much like calling her "baby" as I did like singing the National Anthem, but I was trying to change that damned silly mood of hers. I wanted her, wanted sex, but not with any half-baked trimmings.

She came over to the bed and reached down and touched my leg. She giggled again.

"Oh, cut it out, Helen. You're acting like a child."

She climbed into bed with me then. I put my arm about her. She reeked with perfume, but I could tell it was good perfume, expensive stuff. She smelled rather good, in fact. I kissed her on the side of her face. She responded by kissing my chin, then my nose and eyes and forehead.

"You're a beautiful man, Pete," she said. "Are you going to love me wonderfully?"

The sex was stirring in me.

"Yes, of course. You're a very pretty woman. You do things to a guy. Like mad you do, kiddo."

"Please don't speak that way to me, Pete."

"What way? You mean words like kiddo?"

"Yes. They seem ... terrible at a time like this." I couldn't figure that one, so I let it pass. I put my hand on one of her large breasts. She sighed deeply.

"Oh ... Pete ... My God, I like you."

"I'm glad you do. You know we could have some terrific balls together. You and I, Helen."

"Sure, Pete, sure we could. We're going to. You wait and see. I've got it all planned out for us."

I felt irritation at her for thinking she was the only one in this affair, that she could plan this, plan that, say this and that, go ahead as she pleased. It wasn't quite that simple, no matter what my position here with her was. I was an adventurer, yes, but not a craphead.

"I see," I said, I had only one interest at the moment and it wasn't to have an argument with her.

"Honey," she said, "next week we're going to the lake for a while. I own a whole lake upstate. We can have a wonderful time there without any interference."

"Interference? What kind of interference, Helen? I don't follow you sometimes."

"Let's not talk anymore, Pete. Let's do something better."

She touched my cock. "Pete," she said, "you're the largest man I've ever known. Do you know something?"

"I thought we weren't going to talk."

"Let me tell you this. I've had my eyes on you for years." She paused. "I saw you one time, a long time ago. You were in the gym practicing pushups. At college. You stuck out so, you know. I saw you. I told myself I would get you someday, somehow. You see-I have this thing about wanting a man who's-large. I must have a large man-to satisfy me."

I didn't know whether to laugh or not, and I was about to mention that I had seen the photo of myself in the dresser drawer (which meant she could tell about me by looking at it and didn't necessarily know me from my college days), but I held it back and began running my hands over her body. She moaned. I rubbed her legs slowly. She gasped and threw her arms tightly about me, squeezing me and running her tongue over my neck and face. I could see she was burning up with passion. She bit me hard on the neck and the blood came. I could feel it trickling down to my shoulder.

"Pete, honey," she said, moaning and rubbing her face against mine. "I can't stand it. Do it to me. Hurry."

I got on top of her and began to insert my cock into her.

She drew away from me and pushed against my arms. "No, not that way, honey, the other way. I need it the other way."

I rolled off her in a hurry.

"What is it, honey?" she sobbed. "Don't you want to try the other way?"

"No," I snapped. "What the hell do you think you have, a goddamn pimp?"

She screamed at me. "Why, you goddamn, useless son-of-a-bitch, who do you think you are? Get down there. I insist on it, you lousy bastard."

She struck me in the face in her fury.

I went crazy, I guess. I squeezed her neck until she turned blue. Then I got up from the bed and spat on her body. I was as angry as a guy can be.

"You goddamn freak," I remember saying. "See how you like it in hell, baby."

I got a bad, almost unbearable pain in my loins then. Looking down at myself I saw how swollen I had become. It didn't feel good, as a hard-on should. It felt like hell itself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS THE FOLLOWING NOON WHEN I WALKED into the bar and saw the same bartender who had been there the other time. He recognized me and grinned sourly. I could tell my absence hadn't made his heart grow fonder. He hadn't forgotten the rough treatment I'd given him the day I brought Jennie in for a drink. I walked up to the bar and pulled out a stool. "Hi," I said.

"Hello," he said, scowling and coming over to wipe the bar with a dirty wet cloth. There was no beer on the bar; it wasn't necessary to give it the wipe job. He looked nervous. "What'll it be?"

"Bourbon on the rocks, double-no, make it a triple."

He got it and shoved it over to me. "Say," he said after making change and putting it down in front of me, "that girl who was in here with you. She was here one night with another guy. Some guy named Harry."

"Crazy," I said sarcastically. "Why tell me about it?"

"Man," he said, "you're a hard guy to talk to."

"I came in for a drink, not to listen to you spout off," I said, because I felt like saying it. I knew I was being an ass, but I felt like being an ass. I felt ugly, too. "Okay," he said, "I'll shut up."

"Are you sure it was the same girl?" I asked him after a few moments. I meant Jennie, of course.

"Just forget I ever mentioned it," he said gruffly.

"Oh, come off it," I said. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. What did the guy she was with look like?"

He described the man and I knew who it was all right. It was Harry Giska, Helen's attorney. I started in thinking about Helen then. I couldn't have that. Pushing it out of my mind with an effort, I asked him a number of questions about Jennie and Harry Giska just to keep from thinking.

"I'll tell you this," he said, leaning over the bar. "She asked me if I'd seen you around."

I finished off my drink. "Thanks, chum. I'll see you."

I walked out of the bar, got into my car and drove across town to the address I had seen Cromar entering-the apartment house. I went up and looked at the names on the mailboxes. I saw Jennie's name.

I pressed the button. After a moment the buzzer sounded and I pushed the door open. I hadn't the faintest idea what I was going to do. Why was I here? Probably for sex.

She let me in after giving me an odd look. I stepped into the room with mixed feelings. I looked at her. She was just as young and lovely looking as I had remembered her. Small, dark-haired and with dark eyes.

"Hello," I said, trying to make my tone light. "How are you, Jennie?"

She laughed. There was music in it. "Oh," she said, "you've made a mistake." She grew immediately grave. "I'm not Jennie. J-Jennie is dead, you know. I'm her twin, Jane. I take it you knew my sister, Mr.-"

"Harmon," I said. I had been jolted by this. So Jennie had been killed after all. "Pete Harmon. Look, I'm very sorry. I was under the impression that the girl who died was someone else. I thought at first that it was Jennie. And then later I thought there had been a mistake about (lie identity. I-"

"Won't you come in, Mr. Harmon," she said strangely. I'm expecting my stepfather any moment. I'm sure he'd like to meet any friend of Jennie's. She had so very few of them. She wasn't much of a girl to make friends, you see."

I found that a bit hard to believe. She had made friends with me rather easily, I remembered. I stood there inside the doorway uncertainly. I wanted desperately to talk to this girl-why I didn't know; I just knew I had to talk to her.

"All right, thank you. I can come in for a moment. I'm in rather of a hurry, however. I-"

"Please come in and sit over there if you don't mind. Mr. Harmon. I think my stepfather will be here in a few minutes."

It was then that I noticed for the first time there was something wrong with this girl. I walked over to the chair she had indicated and sat down. She seated herself opposite me and I watched her as she carefully crossed her shapely legs. I knew suddenly that this girl was blind. Her eyes gave only the slightest hint of this to the casual glance, for they moved about the same as anyone's did. It was something in the focus that told me.

The more I looked at her, the more obvious it became. She looked just as I remembered Jennie, exactly the same. She had the same type of big tits, slim waist, long sexy-lOoking legs. It was remarkable even though twins usually look a great deal alike. Tasked her if I might smoke and she nodded her head and smiled. It was a sexy smile, nice to look at. Her teeth were white and even, and pleasing. Her lips were full like Jennie's had been, and very red and soft-looking. I watched her dark eyes, glanced at her half-revealed breasts, and felt the stir of desire.

"Did you know Jennie long, Mr. Harmon?" she asked. I thought I detected a bitter note in her tone.

"No, I hardly knew her at all. I met her, put it that way. I was quite impressed by her. She was a nice gal."

Jane's lips almost curled. I was surprised by the look on her face. "Did you say nice, Mr. Harmon?"

"Yes. I thought her very nice."

The girl laughed without any mirth at all. "You will forgive me, Mr. Harmon. I can't conceive of anyone thinking Jennie sweet and nice. Anything but."

"I don't understand you, I'm afraid."

Her features took on a strange look that startled me. "My sister was a nympho," she said. "If you want to call that being nice."

She was on her feet now. I saw that her lips, her chin, even her hands were trembling. "I get so sick and tired of people talking about how nice Jennie was. She wasn't nice. Not in any way. She tricked people. She even told them her name was Harper instead of Cromar. She loved to make people-just anyone at all-think she was fine and virtuous. She was a fraud, Mr. Harmon, and you'll forgive me for saying it, but she's dead now and both my stepfather and myself are glad of it. She brought nothing but misery and grief everywhere she went and in everything she did to people-including us. So...."

She broke off when the door opened abruptly. I looked up to seethe tall man, Cromar, entering the apartment. He stopped short when he saw me. I got to my feet.

"Hello, Mr. Cromar," I said. "Do you remember me?"

He gave me a sharp look. "Sure," he said. "I think I do. I don't recall your name, though."

"This is Mr. Harmon, Daddy," the girl said. She sat back down, looking calmer now.

He nodded curtly and walked out of the room. Just like that. I sat there feeling a trifle uncomfortable. The girl murmured something or other I didn't quite hear. Cromar returned to the room and sat down across from me. He crossed his legs, looked me up and down carefully, cleared his throat.

"I must say," he said to Jane, "I don't like your letting in strangers like this after what happened."

It was like a bomb being dropped. I jumped to my feet.

"I beg your pardon," I said irritably. "I'll be going."

The girl rose. "I think that was rude of you, Daddy, really I do, and totally unnecessary. I'm surprised at you."

She was very put out, I could tell. I felt slightly red in the face. I walked to the door, stopped and turned about.

"I apologize for coming here, Jane," I said.

"I wish you'd stay, Mr. Harmon. My father didn't mean that, I'm sure. He's just not himself these days."

"I'd better go," I said in a low tone. "I'm sorry." She shook her head.

Cromar jumped to his feet, facing Jane. "Goddamn it!" he snarled. "How do we know who this guy is? For all we know he may be some son-of-a-bitch. The town is full of half-cracked bastards. I-"

I went out the door and left it open. I had had enough of this crazy man's insulting talk.

I got a room in a hotel downtown and took a shower. I felt excited. I wanted to see more of this blind girl and knew I was going to try to arrange it. When I had dried my body I looked up her number in the phone book and dialed it.

The moment I heard her soft voice on the line, I got an immediate erection.

"Hello," I said back to her. "This is Pete Harmon. You may think my calling you is crazy, but I'd like to see you.

Tonight."

She hesitated a moment before answering. "All right, Mr. Harmon. My father will be leaving after a while. You may come over at, say, nine o'clock."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll be there at nine. Good-bye, Jane."

"Good-bye, Mr. Harmon." She hung up.

At five minutes after nine I was at her door. I punched the button but heard no return buzz, so I pushed on the door and found it open. I entered the place and went to her door and knocked lightly. She opened the door and I looked her up and down without speaking. I realized again that she was blind, and that I had better say something.

"It's Pete," I told her. "You look lovely."

She smiled and stepped back out of the way, allowing me to enter the room. "Hi, Pete," she said, using my first name in a way I liked. "I'm glad you wanted to come back."

I studied her. Her blouse wasn't buttoned all the way, and I could see the upper halves of her breasts. They looked tempting. I could feel it happening to me. I closed the door. "I had to see you again, Jane."

She turned and walked surely to the sofa. You would have sworn she could see what she was doing. She sat down and smiled at me. "I suppose you think I'm like my sister, and you want to look into it, Pete."

"Yes," I said bluntly. "You interest me."

Her voice didn't sound the same as it had earlier. I had the idea she had talked that way to me because she expected her father to come home at any moment. "Pete," she said, sounding very friendly, "you're right. I am like my sister. I'm blind, however, and I don't get much chance to be with men."

I caught my breath. This was an open invitation if I ever heard one. I let my eyes travel down her body, seeing the short skirt, the nylon-clad legs, the spike-heeled shoes that always make a woman's calves look enticing. Hers didn't need the added enticement, but just the same, wearing those shoes did something great to her legs. I moistened my lips and felt a surge of confidence that was strange. I knew why. It was because the girl was blind. I could do anything I wanted, and she couldn't see me. I walked close to her, and, just for the hell of it, unzipped my pants. I studied her eyes carefully, but they seemed only to be looking at my face. I went even closer to her but not once did her expression change-she kept on smiling. I zipped myself up and grinned.

"Why don't you sit beside me, Pete?" she asked.

"Sure. Like to." I was as rigid as I could be. She moved and I saw her skirt creep high on her well-shaped thighs. "You smell nice," I added.

She turned and I saw that one more button had come undone on her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra, and I could see just about all of her breasts now.

"Pete, kiss me," she said suddenly.

I kissed her hungrily but released her after a moment. I was afraid I was going to rush matters too much. "You're quite a girl," I murmured. "You do things to me."

She laughed nicely. "Daddy won't be home tonight."

Another invitation. Crazy. "Good," I said. "I'll stay all night with you." I held my breath. There was no look of displeasure on her face. Good.

"I think I'd like that, Pete," she said.

I put my arm about her shoulders and drew her close to me, kissing her mouth wetly. The moment she felt my lips, she pressed her own against me, fiercely running her tongue about on mine. I pulled away after a moment. "Hey," I said, "you do that and I'll get real fresh with you, baby."

She found my face with her mouth and kissed the side of it, running her tongue over my skin. "Oh, I hope you do," she breathed in my ear. "I haven't been this close to a man in a long time."

"You know something, you're a different kind of girl when your father isn't about the place."

She laughed. "I have to watch my step around him. He's very suspicious."

"Where's your bedroom?" I asked bluntly.

"Pick me up and I'll show you, Pete."

I grinned and slipped my hand under her beautiful legs and lifted her easily. I walked across the floor. "Where is it, which door?"

"The one by the table," she said softly, and kissed the side of my face.

I was as excited as hell as I carried her to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. She lay there seemingly looking up at me and smiling tensely.

"Pete," she said, "will you undress me? I want you to."

I swallowed hard. "Yeah," I said, my pulse racing like mad. "I'll do that, baby."

I removed her blouse first and saw her breasts in all their fullness. They were great, round and lovely, and pinkish and maddening to look at. I leaned down and kissed both of them as she sighed and grasped my hair, pulling it hard.

"Oh, I like that," she sighed. "Do it again."

I took a nipple between my lips and tugged on it gently. Again she pulled my hair hard and it made me wince.

"Oh, Pete, you make me so hot." she murmured. "Take off my skirt and panties, please."

I undid her skirt and drew it down and off her legs. Then I tugged her white panties down. I left her garter belt on as well as her nylons. I removed her shoes. There's something wildly exciting about leaving a woman's stockings on her while she lies panting on a bed.

"Get on, Pete," she begged me. "I can hardly wait."

But I didn't get on her immediately, I wanted to play around with her for a time. I lowered my head and kissed her tummy, and again she grasped my hair and yanked on it so hard I cried out.

"Hey, watch it!" I cried. "That hurts like hell, baby."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Pete. I'm just so hot I'm beside myself."

"Crazy," I muttered. "Stay that way."

"Take your pants off, Pete. I want to feel you."

"Sure, baby." I got up from the bed and removed my pants and shorts. I lay back down and felt her hand snaking along my stomach until she touched my cock. She moved her hand up and down gently, and I thought the top of my head was coming off.

"Oh, I like the feel of you, Pete," she murmured. "You're such a man."

I said nothing; I had heard this same remark before many times. I knew I was quite a guy. I didn't need to be told this.

"Pete," she said, her tone begging, "kiss my tummy again. I love that."

I kissed her flat stomach. Her skin was so smooth and soft. I ran my tongue into her naval and she squealed with delight, pinching me in a certain spot in such a fierce manner that I winced again. This girl was really bothered.

"Pete, get on me," she urged.

I sighed and crawled above her, separating her legs with my own. I settled down on her, her hand still clasping me and with my heart hammering so hard it threatened to jump out of me.

She made the insertion.

I thrust hard and felt the warmth of her inner body. It was wonderful and I felt chills go up and down my back. I heard her moan and felt her thrashing her legs about. This made me wonder momentarily what it must be like to get laid when you're blind.

She told me. "Oh, Pete, it's wonderful," she sighed. "I love it."

I grinned and moved in her, shuddering with each stroke. I had never known such pleasure as this. There was something psychological about laying a beautiful blind girl that sent me to hell and gone.

"Pete," she moaned, "oh, I'm so glad you came back. Can you move faster, please?"

"Sure," I said, grunting it, and proceeded to move much faster.

"No, please ... not that fast. Slow it down a little. Let me feel it ... all of it."

I slowed it down a bit. I felt very good. I was tremendously excited. I don't believe I had ever been that excited sexually before. She brought her legs up and wrapped them around mine and hooked her toes under my ankles in just the right way to afford me a better purchase on her.

"This is really something," I moaned.

"Beautiful, Pete. Oh, I need this so much."

She shoved her loins high as if she couldn't get enough of what I had to offer. Even this sent me. I knew now that this girl hadn't had any in a long time, that her blindness really did prevent her from going out with men. There's something about the way a woman moves her loins that tells a guy if she has had it lately. Maybe this is just nonsense, but I don't think it is.

I moved hard and fast, and with great urgency, while she continued to respond in the way a real woman should. I knew for certain that I had a great one here. It occurred to me that I had to be very careful afterward. Should she, at the close of the act, become savage, I must control my feelings-I didn't want to ... destroy anything. Not this time.

"Oh, Pete," she gasped, as she clutched my buttocks, pressing me down on her hard, "I can't wait any longer ... please ... let me have it ... please?"

I didn't reply. I was much too excited by her words. I made no effort to hold back, but kept it going. I simply let go in a frantic, maddened manner and heard her cry out over and over. "Oh, darling, how wonderful ... oh, darling, how wonderful you are."

It occurred to me later that there might come a time when she would reverse her opinion of me.

But intuitively, I knew that that time hadn't yet arrived.

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE WENT TO SLEEP THEN AND I TRIED TO BUT couldn't, so I got up and went into the living room looking for a bottle, which I found easily enough on the bar. I was hesitant about drinking, but not too much so; I had had little trouble with it of late. Matter of fact, I wasn't, at this point, as concerned about imbibing as I had been. The doctor had told me I wasn't an alcoholic, in his opinion, and while I didn't have a very high regard for him, I supposed he must know something about the question of alcoholism.

At any rate, I felt like having a few drinks, so to hell with worrying about it.

There was the girl in the next room, too. I felt like having her again, also. A few drinks might once again put me in the mood for her. I proceeded to have those few drinks, not, however, stopping with just a few but actually killing the entire bottle. I didn't feel particularly high, just good I was relaxed and in a fine frame of mind. Contrary to what I had thought might be the case, I discovered I had no urge for the girl at all. I shrugged this off, knowing the urge would return later if I hung around the apartment long enough. I half-hoped she would waken and join me in a drink. With this in mind I began looking for another bottle and found one in a cupboard in the kitchen, opened it and carried it to the bedroom. I reached down and shook her gently. She opened her eyes and smiled-the light was still on; I hadn't turned it off while making love to her. "Hi, Pete," she said softly.

The softness of her tone thrilled me. That was the term for it. Thrilled me. I grinned at her but then realized once again that she was blind and couldn't see my grin. I patted her cheek.

"Hey," I said with equal softness, "I'm grinning at you, baby."

She startled me. "Oh, I know you are, Pete."

"How in the world could you know that? Can you see a little bit?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm completely sightless. I can tell though if someone is laughing or smiling or grinning. Quite often I can. Don't ask me how I do it. I don't know."

My scalp was crawling. There was something about the way she said this that bothered the hell out of me. I began to wonder if she could ascertain other things about me-psychic things. I moved away from her a bit and studied her pretty face, noting the dark lashes and brows, the somewhat lighter-colored hair, the way it hung around her shoulders contrasting with the slight tanned color of her skin.

"What is it, Pete? You're frowning, aren't you?"

Again my scalp crawled. I had been frowning hard.

"Pete," she said. "Why are you silent?"

"Oh ... No reason, just thinking. How did you know I was frowning?"

She laughed. It had a pleasant ring to it. "Oh, come on now, I'm not that smart. I just guessed lucky."

I sat on the edge of the bed and placed my hands on her bare shoulders. Her skin was so smooth it was almost unbelievable. "You're something," I told her. "You really are. I like you more and more."

She giggled like a schoolgirl and this pleased me. "I like you, too," she said. "After what you just did to me, I may even be in love with you."

I swallowed. "Thanks," I said huskily, "but you shouldn't let yourself fall for a guy like me. You're much too ... nice a girl." It was a stupid thing to say, but I said it anyway.

"Bosh," she said. "Don't tell me you're one of these chumps who put women on pedestals."

This amazed me. "I thought all women liked that sort of thing."

"Not this one. I think it's a dumb thing to do."

So did I, but to hear a pretty young girl say it was pretty terrific. I laughed and saw her lips curve into a smile again. "Hey," I said. "I took it upon myself to hunt around for a bottle. I found one." I uncapped the bottle, placing it in her hand. 'Take a drink. Do you want some water for a chaser, Jane?"

She seemed to look at the bottle dubiously, though I knew, of course, that she wasn't seeing it. "I don't drink very often. But I guess I will this time. No, I don't need a chaser. I don't think I do. I-" She put the bottle to her lips and drank. I thought she might choke a bit on the stuff, but she handled it very well. I watched her closely as she rubbed the neck of the bottle for a moment, smiled vaguely, rubbed it again. I wondered why she was doing this. She stopped it and raised the bottle to her lips and took another drink. She surprised me further then by placing the bottle exactly in the right place for me to take it from her.

"You're amazing," I told her. "You scare me a bit."

She laughed again. "Nothing to be afraid of. I'm just a blind girl, that's all."

"Have you always been without sight, Jane?"

"No. Just since I was sixteen. A car accident did it."

"How old are you now?"

"Nineteen."

I leaned over, taking care not to spill the contents of the bottle, and kissed her mouth. She sighed and tried to put her arms about me.

"Be careful. You'll spill the juice," I said, drawing back from her. I took a drink and recapped the bottle.

"Now that you've put the cap on, Pete, kiss me again."

Once more my scalp began to crawl. "You knew I put the cap on? Could you hear it? Did it make a sound?"

"Yes. Of course it did. A very tiny one, but I heard it."

"You don't read minds, do you?"

She smiled. "No. I'm not smart enough for that."

"I'm not so sure." And I wasn't.

"Tete, please kiss me again."

I put the bottle down and bent over and kissed her lips gently. Her lips were warm and soft and nice to the touch. I half expected to become aroused, but nothing happened. I pulled away from her somewhat disappointed but not too much so-I had too much juice in me to really be disappointed at anything. That's the way whiskey sometimes affects me.

"Pete, do you want to?" she asked, touching my arm.

I laughed. "Later. I seem to be uninspired at the moment."

A look of disappointment came over her pretty face and I was almost ashamed of myself for saying what I had. "Oh...." was all she said.

"Don't look that way," I told her. "You have to give a guy time to recuperate, you know."

She giggled again. "So I've heard, Pete. How long do I have to wait?"

She puts it right on the line, was my thought. "Not long," I told her. "A little while."

"Gee, I'm so glad you came back, Pete. You don't know what it's like to be alone the way I am."

I swallowed hard. "Yes, I do, Jane."

"Do you?"

"Yes. You see, in a different way, I too am alone."

She actually turned her face so that she appeared to be staring at me. It gave me an uncanny feeling. "You, Pete? You're not blind. How are you alone?"

"There are many ways of being alone," I told her, trying to evade answering her, because I could not.

"Such as what?" she wanted to know.

"Oh ... the inability to make friends, for one thing," I said lamely. I lied to her then. "That," I added, "seems to be my trouble."

She found my hand and squeezed it. 'That can't be your trouble, Pete. You're too nice a guy. You only imagine you have trouble making friends."

"Maybe so," I said carefully.

"I'm sure of it. I can tell. You won't believe this." She paused and rubbed her nose a bit. "You won't believe this," she repeated, "but people who can't make friends have a certain ... don't laugh now ... a certain smell to them. You don't have it. So you see...." She spread her hands and laughed softly.

I laughed, too. "I never heard that before. Is it really true?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "It's just something I happen to believe in because I've observed it quite a few times."

"Then it's all a question of body odor?" She shook her head. "I don't mean it that way ... it's just a peculiar sort of smell ... it's not body odor at all."

"I'll be damned. Are you sure of this?

"No. Not at all. It's probably more imagination with me than anything else."

I sat silent for a long time. I was almost afraid to talk to this lovely girl. I was fearful that she would ... find out a few things about me that I didn't want her to know. Helen, for instance. I thought about Helen, how she had looked, and very nearly shuddered. Watch that stuff, I told myself-put Helen out of your mind. You can do it. You have ... before.

"Pete," she said, in that soft way of hers. "You're a very nice man. Did you know that?"

"No. No, I didn't. I don't really think I am, Jane. I-er-I-well, I don't know what I was about to say." But I did. I had almost told her about myself. Play it cool, don't get carried away and start talking about yourself to her.

"Kiss me, Pete," she said impulsively.

I kissed her, but not for long. I wanted to look at her body and I couldn't do this while kissing her. I let my eyes travel downward, taking in the sight of her lush figure. She still wore her nylons attached to the garter belt, and nothing else. Her legs were crossed so as not to expose her private region too much-there's nothing particularly stimulating to me about seeing a woman's crease in its entirety-and her skin looked so delicious I wanted to taste it. I did so, too. I bent my head and ran my lips lightly over her tummy. She cried out and immediately pulled my hair hard. Easy, I told myself-don't let a little thing like that set you off. You want this girl, be cool, be very cool, hold yourself in.

I held myself in.

However, I kept on caressing her tummy with my lips, and much to my relief she ceased pulling my hair and lay back and sighed deeply. I raised myself to look at the sight of her pretty face wreathed in an ecstatic smile.

"Oh, Pete," she murmured. "You nearly drive me mad with desire."

I was beginning to feel that way, myself. "Me, too," I told her rather stupidly.

"Will you? I mean, have you recuperated enough?"

"Pretty soon."

"Gee, I like you," she said, and finding my head, stroked my hair lightly.

"I like you, too, Janey," I told her, and meant it. "Oh, I love hearing you call me 'Janey'." I grinned.

"You're grinning again, aren't you, Pete?"

Once more my scalp did strange things. How in hell could she tell I was grinning? "Hey," I said. "Do I have a certain odor when I grin. Is that what it is?"

"No. Silly. Of course not. I was just guessing again."

I examined her breasts and discovered desire was returning to me fast. I placed my hands on both of them and rubbed gently. She sighed again and murmured something I couldn't understand.

"What?" I asked, as I continued to rub her.

"Kiss them, Pete, please?"

She had made it sound like a question. I grinned again and kissed each breast, running my tongue over the nipples lightly. She began pulling my hair again and it hurt. I must have a sensitive scalp, for the pain of it was terrific.

"Hey, wish you'd cut that out. It hurts a lot."

"Oh, Pete, I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

I smiled and kissed her mouth hard, pulling away from her a long moment later. "That's okay. I like being hurt by you, sort of."

"Gee, I wish you'd hurt me," she said impulsively.

This bothered me. "Don't talk like that," I said harshly.

"Something wrong, Pete? You sound very annoyed at me.

I took a deep breath. "It's all right. I suppose I've put away too much juice. I didn't mean anything by that ... what I said, I mean."

She was silent for a moment. "How are you, Pete?" she asked, timidly, I thought.

I didn't understand her for a moment. "What?"

"How are you ... down there?"

I grinned tensely. "I seem to be okay. Want to feel?"

"Yes," she said suddenly, and I felt her hand groping around for my stomach. She found the right place a few seconds later and sighed all over again. "Gee, I like to do this to you."

"Go ahead and do it, whatever you want to, Janey," I told her, my heart hammering hard now.

"Would you ... would you bring it up ... closer to me?"

A bead of sweat appeared on my forehead. "Sure," I said. I moved up a bit.

"Up ... more, Pete," she begged.

I knew what she wanted, of course. I would have been a fool not to. With excitement running through me like mad I moved up still more while she lowered herself until her face was close to me. I waited while she seemed to hesitate. Then I felt her kissing me with reckless abandon, my stomach, my cock, all of me. My heart was really hammering now. I had thought this girl to be reticient about sex when I had first met her. Now I was finding she was anything but that. Her lips touched me again on a certain spot and I heard her moan softly. I lay flat on my back and she sat up on her knees. I closed my eyes and waited some more. Finally, I felt the little nibbling touch of her lips and tongue, very lightly, very soft-like. I was about as rigid as it's possible to get.

I sighed, letting the air out in a long whoosh.

Now I could feel her lips much better. She began to work me in earnest. She kept it up, going far down with each movement of her head. I knew I couldn't hold back long if she kept this up, and almost as if she were reading my mind she ceased and lay down on her back and moaned. "Get on, darling," she said.

I grunted, somewhat disappointed, although not much, and moved over on top of her. She spread her legs eagerly and I went between them. Once again she made the insertion, not waiting for me to do it. This again pleased me. It seemed to indicate a desire for me that was great, and naturally this was inspiring.

"Go deep, Pete darling," she breathed in my ear. "Go very deep."

"Sure," I said, grunting it. I was having a hard time getting enough air.

"I love you," she breathed. "Make me love you more."

I went deep within her and stroked her fast. The hell with this slow stuff they are always talking about. Slow stuff is no good except to under-passionate people who have a need to be brought up to par. Such a condition didn't exist between this blind girl and me.

Again she seemed to be reading my mind. "Faster, darling," she moaned, and lifted her hips a little. She did this in such an eager and passionate way that it really sent me more than I would have believed possible. "Put your hands under me, please," she begged.

I placed my hands beneath her buttocks, holding her firmly in position while I battered her body ruthlessly.

She loved it.

I kept on with it for a long time. I couldn't seem to come as quickly as I wanted to. Perhaps this was a good thing and perhaps it wasn't. At any rate, this was what I did and she seemed to like it very much, if her hoarse, frantic breathing and moaning were any indication. She wrapped her legs about mine as she had done the first time, hooking her feet around my ankles in such a way that our bodies seemed to be cemented together. This prevented me from having as much freedom of movement, but I didn't mind. I still had plenty of movement and the psychology of being "cemented" together more than made up for the diminished freedom.

Finally, I knew it was no longer possible for me to hold back, so with a great long-stroking movement I battered her hard and then it happened. She cried out and thrust her loins up at mine with such intensity that it nearly startled me.

An explosion took place suddenly.

I slowed down the movement gradually the way women like it done, though I was tempted to halt the thing abruptly. She moaned and sighed and even cried a little. Not much, just a little. It was an emotional experience for her, that's what all the crying was about. I was sure of this. I lay limply above her and still her loins moved about as if wanting still more.

But at the moment I had no more to offer. I was tired and wanted to rest. She threw her arms about my body and squeezed me with surprising strength. "Oh, Pete, how beautiful," she moaned. "Oh, so beautiful. I love you so much."

"You're terrific," I said. "Absolutely terrific. Never seen anyone as hot as you are "

"Oh, I love you so much," she repeated, not seeming to hear my words. "I want you again, darling."

I rose and moved off her perspiring body. Her stockings were badly torn. They hung almost in shreds on her legs. I grinned a little. Those stockings had taken a terrific beating. "Sorry," I muttered, breathing hard. "Not right now. I'm pooped."

"I'll wait," she said eagerly. "I just love to see you all worked up this way, darling."

"So do I," said a voice from the doorway. A female voice.

I grabbed for the sheet and yanked it over our nude bodies. Turning my head, I saw the blonde standing in the doorway, her purse hung over her arm, a cigarette in her hand. She was looking at us and grinning. It was the blonde I had woke up with that time in my friend Herb's apartment.

"What are you doing here?" I asked harshly. She laughed. "Watching," she said. "Take her again, man. I like watching you work."

CHAPTER NINE

GLARED AT THE DAME ANGRILY. WHO THE HELL lid she think she was, bursting in here like this? What connection did she have with the Cromar family, with lane? She returned my glare with a grin.

"Get out of here," I growled. "Beat it."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, man," she said, still grinning. "Taking advantage of this poor blind kid."

"That's not true," Jane cried. "I want you to leave, too, Pearl. Daddy isn't home. So please go."

The Giska broad whirled and stared hard at Jane. "Why, you little fool. Don't you know anything at all? This guy is the worst damned sadist in this neck of the woods. He'll end up hurting you, just like he has a lot of other women. You're a stupid fool."

This burnt me up. It wasn't true. I grabbed for my pants, put them on and stood up facing the Giska woman. "You're a liar," I said. "Get out of here or maybe I'll try a bit of this sadism stuff on you."

She grinned at me and walked from the doorway. I noticed my hands were trembling. I shoved them deep into my pockets and tried to control the trembling. It stopped after a few moments.

"Pete," Jane said, the sheet tucked up around her neck, "will you go out to the other room? I want to get dressed."

I thought it a bit odd she didn't want me to see her dressing inasmuch as I had made love to her twice, but I told her it was okay and left the bedroom. In the front room Pearl Giska was sitting on the sofa, her skirt high on her thighs, leaning back and pouring herself a drink from a gin bottle. I hadn't seen a bottle of gin around the place, so she must have had it in her purse.

"Well, man," she said, looking me up and down. "You put on quite a show for me. I enjoyed it."

"Yeah," I said, growling it. "Are you planning on hanging around?"

"Could be, man. What's your objections?"

I ignored her question and glanced at my watch. It was three-thirty in the morning. I couldn't believe I had been here this long; since nine o'clock. Had I passed out for a period of time? I couldn't remember having done so. Where the hell had the time gone?

"What's the matter, man? You look worried."

"Nothing is wrong," I said. "Cromar won't be here tonight. Why don't you cut out like a good gal?"

She sat forward and I saw the lust in her eyes. "Hey, man, you owe me something. You know that?"

"Yeah. What?"

"The morning we woke up together. Thought I was gonna get some from you, but you walked out on me. Hurt my feelings. How about a little now, man?"

I shook my head.

"I see. Pooped, eh? Well, the way you exploded in the kid ... no wonder. Maybe I could interest you, just the same."

I heard a door being slammed then and whirled about to see that the bedroom dOor was shut. I heard Jane lock it on the inside. I strode to the door, trying the knob. "Jane," I called. "What's the big idea?"

"Go away," she said. "Just go away."

"What's the matter with you?" I called.

"Go away," she sobbed.

I stood there momentarily, shrugged, then walked away from the door. I couldn't figure out why she was acting this way. Maybe she'd had enough of me for this night. What else could it be? Pearl was laughing silently.

"Looks like the kid is locking you out, man. Why not fool around with me for a while? I'm supposed to be good."

"I'll bet."

"Come on. Be a nice guy. I'm sorry I made that crack about you to her. I was just trying to get you away from her."

"Looks like you've succceeded, baby," I said, annoyed.

She took a drink from the gin bottle. "Hey, man," she said casually. "How's your friend Helen?"

I was ready for her. "Okay, so far as I know. Why?" I made my tone as casual as hers.

"Just curious. Can't find her around town. She owes me money."

"Tough," I said, wishing I had the bottle in the bedroom.

"Wanna drink of gin, man?" I shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

She passed over the bottle and I took a swallow of the awful stuff. I made a face and handed the bottle back.

"Don't like gin, I see," she said, laughing. "Hey, aren't you even curious as to why Helen owes me money?"

"Why should I be?" I lighted a cigarette and tried to recall what it was Helen had told me about this broad.

She leaned forward again and eyed me carefully. 'Tell you. She hired me to put knockout drops in your last drink that night you were at the Poppy Club. Then I took you to your apartment and undressed you and put you in bed. I called Helen and she came over and...."

"And what?"

Pearl Giska laughed. "Now that'd be telling, man. Let's say Helen is pretty far out sexually. Sheer-played with you while you were knocked out."

"Hard to believe. What good would a knocked out guy be to a woman?"

"To most women, no good, but to Helen, well, beautiful. She's weird, man, real weird."

"So are you," I said, taking a drag.

"Could be." She laughed and began to unbutton her blouse. "I could go for a little from you, man. Wanna try me?"

I had to admit she looked damned inviting. The trouble was I was really fagged out now. "Maybe," I said, "after I've had a few drinks. Pass the bottle over, will you?"

She laughed, revealing her white teeth, and handed the bottle to me. She was a pretty woman, a bit on the tough side, but pretty and sexy-looking. Her figure was great, her eyes brown, her hair blonde but probably helped along by drug store products. The total effect of her was good, and as I said, inviting. I took a drink of her gin and discovered it tasted better this time.

"Like it okay now, I see," she observed.

"It's okay," I said, and handed the bottle back to her.

She put the bottle on the floor and lay down full-length on the sofa, one leg drawn up, which naturally revealed a good deal of the other one in the thigh region. I felt a slight urge, decided to wait a while and let things develop.

"Hey man," she said. "I guess you're set for sex right now. Right?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "At the moment."

"The kid took care of you pretty good, eh?" I nodded.

She sighed and laughed almost at the same time. "Okay, man. I got nothin' better to do. I'll wait till the old pocus focuses again."

I smiled. "What are you, a comedienne?"

"I do some comedy in my act. Mostly it's just dancing and trying to warble."

I looked at her.

"Sing, man. Don't you dig?"

I nodded again.

She sighed and pulled her skirt up deliberately. "Look it over, man. Maybe you'll get all hot and bothered.

I looked at her thighs. They looked great. "Maybe," I murmured.

She changed the subject abruptly. "Hey, you ever heard of the Lust Club, man?"

I shook my head. "What is it?"

"Cromar runs it. Jane's old man. Jane doesn't know about it. Don't tell her." She paused. "If I tell you will you keep quiet about it, man?"

"Sure. Why would I talk about it? What is the Lust Club?"

"Not really a club. Cromar fixes things up for middle-aged people, lonely people, sexy people who can't get it on their own. Lot of weirdos in it, too. Helen was one. She liked fooling with a guy when he was knocked out. Gave her a big kick, she claimed."

"I see," I said.

"I work for Cromar sometimes-his clients, that is. That's how I met you in the first place."

"You told me that already."

"Well ... thought I'd tell you about the club, too."

"Thanks," I said drily. "What for?"

"Get you excited, maybe. Want you excited, man."

"Other ways to do that," I said slowly. "Okay," she said, and sat up. "Tell me how. I'll do it."

"Give me another drink."

"Help yourself, man."

I did so and put the bottle down on the floor again. "Hey," she said. "Tell me. What you want me to do for you?"

"Use your imagaination."

"Okay, man, come close to me."

I walked close to her and she reached out and placed her arms about my waist. I let her draw me closer to her. I knew what she was going to do, of course. Same thing that Helen had done.

She surprised me, however, by laughing and pushing me away from her. She got to her feet, brushed down her skirt, laughed again, spoke to me. "Sorry. Guess I changed my mind."

I was disappointed, of course, a bit angry, too. "Suit yourself, doll." I told her caustically. "You're not my type, anyway."

"Oh yes I am and you know it, too. Trouble is, man, you've just been burying the bean in the kid. Go take a bath."

I grinned. She had a hell of a way of putting things. "Don't know where the bathroom is, I'm afraid."

She pointed at the other side of the room. "Through that door, man. Help yourself."

I laughed. "Okay. I'll be right back." I went to the bathroom, stripped off my trousers and took a quick shower. I dried my body, put on my pants and returned to the room. She wasn't on the sofa. Nor was she in the room. I stepped through the room to the hallway, looked up and down it. I saw her standing near a door. "Hey, where you going?" I called. She turned around and walked slowly toward me. "No place," she said.

We went back into the room together. She looked me over, then smiled. "You really took a bath, didn't you, man?"

"Yes. You told me to."

"All right. Come to the sofa."

She went over and sat down and I walked toward her, stopping in front of her, my heart beating a bit faster now. She touched me on a certain spot, drew back her hand and then touched me again. She shook her head. "Aren't ready, man. Still pooped?"

"Not necessarily."

She lay down on her back and raised one leg as she had done before. 'Tell you what, man. You ever eat?"

Whew! That was putting it pretty bluntly. "No," said. "Not ever?"

"Not so you could notice it."

"You wanna try it?" The lust in her brown eyes was strong.

I shook my head. "Don't think so. Got anything else to offer?"

"What's wrong with that? You afraid the kid will catch you in the act?"

"No."

"She's blind. She couldn't see you."

"I know she's blind. You don't have to tell me." She pulled her skirt up a bit higher. I saw she wasn't wearing panties. "How you like it, man?" she asked. "Nice," I said, and meant it. "Why don't you then?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Oh, come on. You know what I want you to do."

"Sure, I know. I don't do that. Don't care for it."

"All men care for it if they get drunk enough." I smiled. "Well, give me your bottle again."

"It's there on the floor. Help yourself, man."

I picked up the bottle and had another drink. I offered it to her and she took a long one, setting the bottle down afterward.

"Getting so I like that damned gin," I told her. "Never used to."

"Gin's the best for sex stuff, man. Didn't you know that?"

"Nuts," I said.

"No kiddin'. It is. Everybody knows that."

"Not everybody. I don't."

She wriggled her hips about suggestively. "How about it, man? Wanna try it now?"

"You really go for that, don't you?"

"I love it," she said intensely. "Any girl who says she doesn't is either a fool or a liar."

"Yoou seem to know a lot about a lot of things."

"I know about sex, baby."

"You telling me you're a whore?"

Her face clouded. "Don't insult me, man."

"Sony. Just asked what I thought was an obvious question."

"Well, it's not," she retorted angrily, and frowned. I saw her bite her lips hard and glance sharply at me. "Tell me something, man. What happened to the kid's sister, Jennie, and Helen?"

"What do you mean, what happened to them?"

"Just what I said. What happened to them?"

"How would I know? I don't understand what you mean."

She sighed. "Okay, skip it."

I studied her lush body. "How come you like this certain type of sex bit?"

She pursed her lips, frowned again. "I just do. Don't tell me you don't have certain things you like."

"Of course I do."

She regarded me strangely for a moment. "Such as what?"

"If I were in the mood, I'd show you, doll."

"What's it take to get you in the mood?" I grinned. "Rest, mostly."

"You mean that kid took you that hard?"

"Something like that."

She sat up straight. "Hell, I might as well go home."

"Suit yourself, baby."

She lay back down and drew her leg up again. "No. Think I'll wait and see if you come back to life."

"I'm not dead."

She gave me a quizzical look. "Anybody you know that is?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just talking, man."

"You seem to do a lot of talking."

"Yeah. So do you. Not much action, though."

"I told you. I need a rest."

"Okay. Lie down beside me and take a rest."

"What's the matter, you hard up?" She sat up quickly, frowning hard. "Hell no, man. Thought you were a man. Found out you aren't."

"How would you know?"

She bit her lips and lowered her eyelids in what she probably thought was a seductive manner. "Fact is, I don't, do I? I got turned down by you that morning when I was in your bed. Now you're turning me down again. So ... maybe you aren't a man. Never knew a man to turn down a girl the way you have."

"Maybe I don't like you. That ever occur to you, doll?"

"Bosh. Men don't have to like a girl. They just have to have access to her."

"You flatter yourself, baby. I've got something a hell of a lot better in the next room."

Her face clouded again. "How would you like to kiss my...?"

"Under ordinary circumstances I might not mind it. Right now you bore me."

She got to her feet, her brown eyes flashing. "I got you figured out. You go for helpless kids, kids that are hard up. Some guy."

I laughed. I knew that I had her going now. 'Tell me more about the Lust Club," I said, deliberately changing the subject to infuriate her.

"Go to hell, man," she snorted.

"Okay," I said, laughing again. "I thought you just made that up. Now I know you did."

She frowned and sat down again. She bit her lips once more and flopped down on her back. "I wasn't lying about it. It's true. Lot of money in it. These middle-aged people love it; lets them release themselves with a young person."

"How many middle-aged guys have released in you?" I asked bluntly.

"You don't have to talk smart. I hate a smart talker."

I picked up her bottle of gin. "May I?"

"Do as you please, smart guy. Drink it all if you like."

I took a small drink and offered the bottle to her. 'Take the bottle," I said. "Have a drink of your gin."

"Don't want any."

"Drink it anyway."

Her eyes grew large. "Don't get tough with me, man."

"I'm not. Just take a drink. It's your stuff."

"Told you, I don't want any."

I capped the bottle and dropped it to the carpet. "You couldn't stand any more of it. You're half-drunk already."

Her cheeks flamed. "I'm not drunk. Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Didn't know I was."

"Well, you are. You're trying to make me mad."

"Okay, get mad. Who cares? Why don't you go home?"

"I'm waiting right here until Cromar comes home."

"I told you he won't be here tonight."

"Who said so?"

I gestured toward the bedroom door. "Jane did."

"What does she know? Nobody ever tells her anything."

I reached down and grabbed her arm. I was getting mad myself now. I yanked her to her feet, grabbed up her purse, thrust it in her hands and propelled her to the door. I pulled it open and shoved her into the hall. "The front door," I said firmly, "is that way." I pointed at it. "Use it. I don't want you here right now."

"Don't push me around, smart guy."

I deliberately shoved her toward the door. She stumbled and almost fell. She tried to hit me with her purse, but I just laughed, caught her blow, took the purse away from her, carried it to the front door and flung it into the street.

"Now," I said. "Go and get it."

She cursed me but left hastily. Just as she had said to me, I can't stand a smart guy-smart girl, that is. They bore me. And when I grow bored I become ... Well, the hell with saying that.

CHAPTER TEN

CONTRARY, I THINK, TO WHAT MANY GUYS believe, there's something extremely pleasurable about being able to turn down a sexy woman when she practically begs you for it. I admitted to myself that I had a great deal of help from the mere fact that I was temporarily spent sexually, but just the same there was, as I said, something pleasurable about it. All women seem to have the idea that a mere man cannot resist their charms, ever. This is pure nonsense, but women apparently don't realize it, or if they do, don't admit it to themselves. Don't get me wrong. There's usually more fun to be had by taking the gal in question and letting her think she seduced you at will. There's seldom any point in disillusioning her in this regard. However, this time ... Well, this time I had turned a chick down, had thrown her out of the apartment house, and the act of doing it, of being able to do it, pleased me tremendously. I suppose this was because all my life I had jumped at the chance to lay a willing gal, but now I had done an about-face.

Variety is the spice, not of life, but the ego. Something like that.

I returned to the front room of the apartment and found Jane standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She had removed her stockings and was wearing white panties, nothing else.

"Pete," she said. "Thank you."

I walked toward her slowly. "For what?"

"For not letting her take you away from ... me," she said hesitantly.

I grinned.

"Are you grinning, Pete?"

There it was again ."Yes. Are you sure you have no sight?"

She nodded, smiled. "Quite sure. Thank you again."

I rubbed my chin. "She's an arrogant woman," I said.

"Yes, she is. I'm sorry I slammed the door on you. I was jealous, I guess. I thought you were interested in her."

"You didn't help matters by shutting the door on me," I said slowly. "You practically pushed me into her arms by doing that."

She ran her hands over her breasts nervously. "I haven't had much experience in handling ... things, Pete."

I smiled at her, went close to her and put my hands on her bare shoulders. Immediately, she pressed her body against mine, burying her face on my naked chest. Her face felt cool and nice against my skin, and I wasn't at all surprised to notice I had an erection again. I picked her up and started to carry her to the bed.

"No, Pete," she said. "Not the bed. The sofa. I want to lie where ... she was."

"Okay," I told her, wondering how she had known the Giska broad had been on the sofa. This kid was damned sharp. "To the sofa we go, baby."

"Please don't," she said.

I was taken aback. "Don't do what, Jane?"

"Don't call me 'baby'. That's what you called her."

"Oh ... okay. I'll try not to."

I carried her to the sofa and lowered her to it. She lay flat on her back, her eyes "open" and seemingly staring at me. It was an uncanny feeling, knowing that she couldn't see and yet ... Well, it almost seemed that she could.

"Kiss me, Pete," she said simply.

I bent down and kissed her mouth wetly. She flung her arms about my neck and tried to draw me down on top of her, but I wasn't quite ready for that. I wanted to fool around a bit first. I disengaged her arms and lowered my mouth to her pointed pink breasts, taking one of them between my lips and tugging on it gently. My erection became even more rigid, if that were possible.

"Pete," she whispered, "did you lock the door?"

"No. Doesn't it lock automatically?"

"Oh, yes, I believe so, but maybe you'd better check it."

I went to the door and found it locked. I returned to her, annoyed at having to leave her for even that brief span of time. I stood over her for a moment and leaned down to kiss her. I didn't realize this at the moment, but she must not have heard me return-the carpet was quite thick and muffled footfalls easily, especially mine because I was barefooted-for she suddenly brought her knee up hard and cracked me in the mouth.

Blood spurted from my lips. I swore angrily. I can't stand having my own blood running. I'm funny that way.

"What's wrong?" she inquired, stupidly, I thought. She should have known she hit my face with her knee.

"What the hell do you think?" I cried. "You damned near knocked my teeth out."

"I'm so sorry," she said, her face looking troubled.

I drew away from her and looked down at my hands. They were shaking like hell. I knew one thing. I knew it immediately. I had to get out of here and fast. I went to the bedroom and put on the remainder of my clothing hurriedly. I returned to the front room, unlocked the door to the hall and stepped out of the apartment.

"Tete," she called, her tone sounding frantic. "Are you angry, are you leaving me?"

"Yes," I said tensely, and slammed the door.

A moment later, after making certain that I couldn't reopen the door later (because it was locked), I stalked out of the place and into the street. I began to walk fast. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between that place and myself.

I didn't know at the time how far or how long I walked the streets. It began to rain sometime later, but this didn't deter me. I kept on walking until after dawn. I considered, going to the hotel but didn't want to-I was too much up in the air. I needed to settle down before going to bed. It was perhaps seven o'clock in the morning when I noticed a guy unlocking the door of a bar. I waited for him to enter, then followed him inside. He turned and looked at me as if I were a drunk, apparently deciding I wasn't. He grunted, closed the door and walked into a back room. I waited for him to come back out and when he did I ordered a short beer. This seemed to surprise him a little. He set the beer up and I paid him. I sat there drinking till ten o'clock, and finally left the joint. I still didn't want to go to the hotel-I seemed to be afraid of going to bed. By chance, I saw the sign on his office.

Dr. Freeman.

On impulse, I entered and found no one in his waiting room. The door to his inner office stood open. I peeked around it and he saw me.

"Hello, Mr. Harmon. Come in. Didn't know you had an appointment."

"I haven't. Just dropped in on impulse."

"Good," he said, rubbing his hands and peering at me and looking more like a young Spencer Tracy with glasses than ever. "Always, or almost always, obey your impulses."

"I want to tell you something, but I don't think I can, Doctor."

He rubbed the end of his nose. "The first time you came to see me I suggested hypnosis. You refused. Remember?" I shook my head.

He looked at me steadily. "Are you sure you don't remember, Mr. Harmon?"

"I don't think I do."

"Come over here and lie down. Well give it a try ... if you want to, that is."

"Why not?" I said, and went to the couch and lay down. I didn't know then-I don't know now-exactly what he did, but I began to talk. Something like the following:

I walked into the Poppy Club that night (I told the doctor) looking for I don't know what. I felt uneasy. Maybe I was looking for different luck. I wanted something. It wasn't sex. At least I didn't think it was, not especially. I had always been a lucky guy. But it was an odd type of luck, though good. Look at the things I'd gotten away with, even a murder. The police had given up on solving it in a hurry, it seemed. No one ever connected me with that tramp. I just left town and that was that.

When I entered the club the headwaiter got me a table over by the bandstand when I told him I was a friend of the band leader, Sam Hoffman. Sam's band had been here for some three months now. I had read this on the theatrical page of the Clarkston Evening Standard the day before.

The band wasn't on the stand at the moment. I looked around. This was strictly a clip joint and the suckers hadn't come yet in any quantity. In fact, the place was nearly empty. That's why I got the good table so easily.

I sat there alone all evening. Three different shills came over and sat down with me, but when I told them I wasn't interested, they left more or less in a huff. There wasn't a large crowd that evening, so the management apparently didn't press the matter and ask me to beat it.

Too bad they didn't.

I got up and left the joint about two o'clock in the morning.

The woman was standing by the front entrance, strong back for this. He has to support the female, you see. He puts his [text missing in the original hardcopy pocketbook]

She smiled thinly. "You looking, man?"

"I'm looking at you," I mumbled.

"All right," she said. "Wait till I get my wrap."

I took her to Herb's place in a cab. I went to bed with her. I laid her. It was all right, but I was too drunk to really have a ball with it. She finally pushed me off and told me to go to sleep, man. That's how she put it. Everything was "man this,"

"man that."

I woke up during the night to find her standing in the doorway of the bathroom. She had a hypo needle in her hand. She tried to hide it from me, is to it. She does the work. He just supports her. Like I say, he has to have [text missing in the original hardcopy pocketbook]

She saw me frowning. "Well ... what about it?" she said, giving me a belligerent look. "You a pure, man?"

"Doesn't bother me, baby," I said, my voice still pretty thick. "That's your business."

"Want to try it, man? Make you feel better. Take that awful hangover deal away."

I mumbled something or other and started to fall off to sleep. The sudden jab of the needle in my forearm brought me around quickly.

I sat up. "What the hell you doing, you goddam bag?"

She laughed. 'That won't hurt you, man. Do you good, "Hey," I said, "a guy can't even go to bed with a dame these days without getting stuck."

I watched her while she put the thing away in her purse. Then she came over and hopped into bed.

"Wait a little while, man," she said. "You'll have the craziest sex urge you ever knew. That's why I did it. I need some real good sex, man, not that feeble crap you gave me."

"Hey," I said. "You're a nut."

"I'll show you something, man, something you never even heard of. This deal will fix you, but real."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the Morka, man."

"Morka? What the hell is Morka?"

"It's an ancient sex deal, man. The Indians in South America knew about it. Long, long time ago. Wait and see."

"Crap," I said, turning over and closing my eyes. "You're a nut. That's all."

"In the morning, man, you won't remember a thing. That's a part of it. Can't remember anything. Not until you've done the Morka a lot of times will you be able to recall what happened. That way, man, you see you won't have any damned silly embarrassment."

"Is it that bad, for God's sake? I don't want any part of some crazy deal like that."

"How do you know you don't? You don't even know what it is, man. Wait. Just wait. You'll find out, man."

"Do you have to say 'man' all the time? What are you, a musician or something?"

"Singer, entertainer. Used to be. Not so much now."

"How do we do this Morka thing? What the hell is it?"

She tried to explain the deal tp me, but I was too foggy to pick up on it.

"Look," she said, "the man has got to be very strong. He needs a strong back for this. He has to support the female, you see. He puts his head on, say, the edge of a sturdy chair, just his head and neck. Then he brings his feet up and puts them, spreading his legs far apart, on another chair or the bed or something. Then the female gets on top of him. That's all there is to it. She does the work. He just supports her. Like I say, he has to have a strong back. Little weak guys can't do it. You, man, ought to be terrific at the Morka."

I felt like laughing. It sounded so weird it was funny. But I didn't laugh. There was something in her eyes that told me I'd better not laugh.

"Why should such a position as that do anything for the people involved?" I asked, my head clearing up somewhat.

"I don't know exactly. It has something to do with the strain it puts on the man's spine. That's what they told me."

"Who told you that?"

"Oh ... some people."

"What people?"

"Well, a woman named Helen Whipple is the one who told me."

"Never heard of her. It can't have made her famous."

"Go ahead and joke, man. When you experience the Morka you won't be joking about it. You'll thank me for showing you. That is, you will if you're a real man."

"Has the morphine you gave me anything to do with it?"

"No," she said. "That wasn't morphine, man."

"What was it?"

"I won't tell you. That's none of your business."

"I should think it is. It's in my veins."

She wouldn't tell me what it was. I didn't care much. I was feeling fine now. I was feeling alert, full of energy. I was ready for anything.

I wasn't quite ready for what happened next, however.

How could any man be ready for such a thing? She yanked her slip up over her head and began to sway her hips about like a burlesque queen. I lay and watched her, the sex coming on me slowly. She contorted about for several minutes, her breathing getting faster and faster.

"Can you get situated, man?" she gasped. "I'm getting hot. Draw the chair over a few feet from the bed."

I shrugged. "Why not," I said, and moved the chair over.

"Lie on it like I told you, man. Put your head and part of your shoulders on the chair. Here, take the pillow; that'll make it softer for your head."

I got on the chair as she directed me. I put my two feet up on the bed, my legs spread far apart.

Carefully she lowered her body to mine. We made the correct contact with her doing everything that was necessary.

I thought my back was going to break in two when she placed part of her weight on me. She held herself partially up with her hands and knees, my rear being close to the floor but not touching it.

She worked.

I thought I would cry out from the pain for several moments, but I managed to hold it back. This pain was terrific. Then, suddenly, it all went away and I felt loose, relaxed to the extreme. Her body on top of mine began to gyrate easily. It went on and on. A long time passed. Then the release came like the Mississippi overflowing its banks. I guess I must have passed out for a time. When I came to I was lying on the floor beside her. Her eyes were closed. She was out cold, apparently.

Later, we talked about the sensation while lying on the bed together. I asked her all sorts of questions about the Morka, but she wouldn't tell me much.

"You won't recall any of it afterward. Not for a long time," she said. "So what's the use?"

"Why will I forget it?"

"I don't know. The man always does until he has been doing it for quite a while. Don't ask me why, I just don't know the answer."

"That sounds like rubbish."

"Yeah, I know. But it isn't, man, it isn't. Wait and see. We'll go to sleep now and in the morning you won't remember."

"I don't believe that," I said, but she was, of course, exactly right. The next morning I didn't recall a thing about it, but you know this.

"It's true," she explained. "One thing you have to watch out for. After a guy experiences the Morka he's liable to go out and kill some unsuspecting female. So ... be careful, man."

Dr. Freeman was moving my arm about when I opened my eyes. "You're okay," he said. "Sit up straight. You told me some of it."

"Oh, what did I tell you?"

"I'll tell you ... later," he said. "Not right now."

"So ... what do I do now, Doc?"

He grinned, offered me his pack. "Have a smoke, Mr. Harmon. Relax for a time. Those large hands of yours are shaking very hard. I'll give you some pills for it."

There appeared to be a hell of a lot of lust in his lousy eyes and I wondered why.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I WAS BACK IN THE HOTEL NOW, LYING ON THE bed. I had taken two of the pills the doc had given me and felt very relaxed, even sleepy. I wondered what Janey must be thinking about me. I put her out of my mind, glad that I had gotten out of there when I did. I didn't want to ... to ... no, not this one. It was unthinkable-she was too nice a kid.

The thing about the so-called Morka came to mind briefly. I snorted. That broad had been giving me a line-there was no such thing as the Morka. I was sure of this. The dame was just nuts, or she had tried to plant in my mind something about harming some woman or other. I couldn't understand why she would want to do this, but she had, apparently. One thing I knew for sure-the Giska broad was crazy. Even the way she had acted in Jane's apartment suggested she wasn't all there. No girl throws herself at a guy the way she did. She went at it all wrong. The way she did it had turned me against her, not toward her.

I wasn't sure then if I dropped off to sleep and dreamed it or if I was in a sort of half-sleep and was going over it in my mind, but a portion of my past flashed into being:

The head coach looked at me. "I'll tell you this, Harmon," giving the medicine ball a toss across the gym floor, "I can't stand a liar. Anything I can't take, and especially from one of my own athletes, is an out-and-out lie. Now I'll ask you once more and tell me the truth this time. Were you drunk the night before the game?"

I put my shoes in the canvas bag and tossed it to one side. Then I walked over to the spot where the ball was resting. I knew he was watching me closely. I knew there was a look of something close to hate on his ugly face. I hated the bastard, the sanctimonious hypocrite who had paid me under the table more than one time and who talked out of the other side of his lousy mouth all the rest of the time. Coach McClaren, big shot. Best in the Middle West, they said. Ail-American in his playing days three times. In my book he was an All-American bastard.

I drew back my foot and kicked the ball hard. Then I turned around and looked over at him. He was still sitting on the rubdown table staring at me.

"One more chance, Harmon," he barked. "Are you going to tell me the truth or aren't you?"

"You're a great coach, McClaren," I said easily, "but what I do off the field i my own business. That's the way I feel about it."

He slapped his fist down hard on the table. "Get out, Harmon. I mean get out and get out right now. Change your clothes and get out of here. I don't want to set eyes on you again. This school has no place for a guy like you."

"Okay, Coach," I said. "Nothing could please me more than to get out from under your phony two-faced crap."

His face was a mottled red. I thought he was going to burst a blood vessel. I hoped he would, the louse.

I saw this girl, Clara, walking along a side street on the campus. She was carrying a few books and I sneaked up behind her and grabbed them out of her arms. She whirled about and tried to slap me.

"Damn you. You frightened the life out of me. Why do you always do such crazy things?"

"Cool down, doll. I just wanted to tell you something."

She looked me up and down. Her gray eyes were laughing even though her lips weren't. "I love you, you big ape. What do you want to tell me besides you love me?"

I looked at her. "I don't love you, baby. Where'd you pick up that idea?"

"You said you did, last night you said you did."

"Last night was last night. I'm quitting school. I'm getting out of here right now."

"Pete," she said, looking alarmed. "You can't do that. What are you talking about?"

"Skip it. Don't want to talk about it. I want something else. I want you, baby, and right away. Come on. I'll get the car and we'll drive out to Jimmy's. He'll let us use the back room. I-"

"That's all I am to you, Pete. Just a damned lay. I don't mean anything to you but that."

I looked at her blonde loveliness. "You're a dame, aren't you?" I said. "I'm a guy. What the hell else would you mean to me but a lay? Don't be a fool."

"Why you-" She slapped me across the face.

I walked away from her. The hell with her. I'd go out to Jimmy's and find another piece of meat. I did, too.

He unlocked the door and let me in when I rapped and he saw who it was. Jimmy was a big barrel of a man, about sixty. He ran the worst dive off campus. All the guys and gals-the ones who were interested, that is-came here to Jimmy's place. You could buy anything here, anything at all.

"What's eating you, kid? First time I ever saw you in the afternoon. Usually you're here at night."

"Got any dames around at the moment, Jimmy? I got hot rocks like mad."

He grinned. "Man, you always have. Sure I got a gal around-somewhere. How will the redhead do, the one you were looking at the other night-the night before the game?"

"She's all right. She here now?"

"Wait till I lock the door, kid, and I'll go hunt her up. I think she's taking a nap or something. You want a drink, kid?"

"Sure I want a drink. I want a whole damned bottle of it. With some ice, too. Then I want to be left alone-with the redhead."

He gave me a quick, crafty look. "You got any dough on you, kid?"

I pulled out my wallet. "I got three hundred bucks. Will that be enough?"

"Hell yes, kid. You're okay."

"Let me in the back room, Jimmy. Unlock it."

He took me back, unlocked the door and I went inside the room. There was a cot there, a table and a chair. That cot got used more often than any cot in town. He brought me the bottle and five minutes later a sleepy-eyed redheaded girl came in. She was dressed in a short nightgown. Nothing more, not even slippers on her feet. Obviously, she had been hitting the sack.

"Hi there," she said, stretching her arms above her head and blinking her eyelids. She yawned, too.

"Why don't you go to bed nights?" I asked. "Then you wouldn't have to sleep all day."

"Yeah ... sure," she said, yawning again. "Who do you think you're kidding, man? Last night was a whopper. Half the guys in school were here."

"Close the door, doll," I said, "and have a drink with me.

She kicked the door shut with her bare heel. "Goddamn it," she said, "that hurt." She came over and sat down on the bed next to me. "You're kind of early in the day for this, aren't you? You sure you want a girl, man?"

I looked at her. "Take off your deal," I said.

She lifted it over her head and sat there without a stitch on. I looked at her pretty breasts. They were not large, but they were well-shaped and inviting. I bent over and took one in my mouth.

"Hey," she said. "You don't waste any time."

I straightened up, got the bottle, took a long drink. I gave it to her, but she shook her head, I took another one. And then another.

"You trying to get drunk in a hurry, man?"

I ignored this. "You know what I want, doll?"

She gave me a suspicious look. "No, what do you want?"

I gestured.

"Boy!" she said, looking away. 'This early in the day. I have to be half-high for that."

"Drink some of this then." She took the bottle and swallowed quite a bit of the whiskey.

"Want another? You'd better have another."

She took another longer drink from the bottle.

"You ready now?" I asked her, feeling the excitement within me.

"All right," she said. "Lay down, man."

I lay down on the bed and she began. After a moment she straightened up again. "Take your trousers off, man. I can't. They bother me."

"You do it," I said hoarsely. I was trembling all over, my hands especially.

"Okay."

She unfastened my belt and tugged the trousers down until I lay exposed before her eyes.

"Brother," she said. "Are you ever built. Whew!"

"Hurry," I said, gasping. "Good grief, gal, hurry up."

"Sure," she said. "I'm with you, man."

I thought I was going to go completely crazy for the next couple of minutes. She knew her business, that redhead did. Her mouth burned the hell out of me. I got mad when she quit too soon. I guess I went crazy and tried to cool her off.

It was six months later when I ran into a blonde chick in Detroit. I met her in this dump of a place and got her to take me up to her room. She wasn't much of a looker, but I had to have more of the same deal the redhead had given me.

This girl was mad as hell when I told her what I wanted.

"If you think I'm the type of girl who does that, mister, you're nuts. I won't and if that's all you want you can get out of here right now."

"Please," I begged. "Please."

"Hell no. You'd better beat it, buster. I ain't built that way."

I blew my top at her. I grabbed her and forced her down. She fought like a wildcat. She started screaming her head off. I don't know just how it happened, but my hands are too big, I guess. I got them around her throat just to shut her up.

The next thing I knew she was dead. At least I thought so. I began to scream my head off.

I found myself lying on the floor of the hotel room. I must have fallen out of bed during that damned dream, or whatever it was. I got to my feet and fell over on the bed.

The light was on and I looked about the room trying to focus my eyes. Everything seemed to have a film over it. I blinked my eyelids, but this only made things worse. I went to the bathroom and dashed cold water on my eyes and head and neck. After a time the film seemed to disappear.

"Man," I muttered. "What a lousy dream. Hell, I thought I was actually killing that blonde girl."

I was astonished to discover that I had a tremendous hard-on. "What the hell?" I muttered.

I got dressed hurriedly, left the hotel, grabbed a cab and went directly to Jane's apartment house. The front door wasn't open as it had been the other time. I pressed the button, heard the buzzer a moment later and pushed open the door. I strode to her door quickly and knocked loudly.

The door came open and I saw her. She was fully dressed-the time being about one o'clock in the afternoon.

"Is it you, Pete?" she asked.

I entered and closed the door. "Yes. I came back, Janey."

"Oh, I'm so glad."

"Is your father here?"

"Not yet. He won't be back until later."

I didn't know why this next thing occurred to me, but it did, so I put it into words. "Jane, what do you know about the Lust Club and the Morka?"

Her face grew instantly pale. "Nothing," she said, turning her face away.

"Okay," I said. "You don't want to tell me. Right?"

"No, that isn't it, Pete. I just don't know ... anything."

I shook her by the shoulders. "Tell me the truth. Your father runs this crazy deal, doesn't he? Isn't that the way he makes his living?"

She was silent.

I shook her again. "Tell me, Jane."

"I guess so," she said, "but I don't know anything about it."

I released her. "Okay. I believe you." I didn't, not really, but the erection had come back and this was no time to be asking questions about something I wasn't much concerned with anyhow. I pulled her close to me and she must have felt the hardness. She moaned softly and put her arms about my neck, her stomach pressing against me more tightly.

"You want to, Janey?"

"Yes, Pete. Very much so." I saw her bite down hard on her lower lip. "Pete, why did you run away last night?"

"I don't know," I said.

"You acted like you were afraid of something. Were you?"

"No. I'm ... just a screwball, I guess. I do funny things sometimes. Don't ask me why. I guess I drink too much, something."

"The Giska woman was here this morning talking to me."

"Did she tell you I might know something about your sister?"

"Not exactly. She was questioning me about you."

"What did she want to know exactly?"

"I don't ... remember."

"Shall we skip it?"

"Y-yes. I'd rather you ... loved me, Pete." I grinned. "Okay."

"Pete, the Giska woman told me what you look like. You must be very handsome, so big and strong. She said you had the strongest hands she ever saw." I was silent. "Pete, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. What makes you think there is?"

"I just had a feeling."

"Well, get rid of it."

"You speak so harshly. Are you in some kind of trouble?" I was silent.

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

"I came here," I began slowly, "because I wanted to see you. I didn't come to talk nonsense."

An odd look came over her face. She pulled away from me. "Oh ... I'm sorry, Pete. Guess I'm taking too much liberty with you."

I was instantly contrite. Hell, I didn't want to hurt this nice kid's feelings. I went to her and put my arms about her and drew her close to me. She gave a little cry and buried her face on my chest.

"You don't have to be sorry," I said. "I'm the one who's sorry. I apologize for speaking so roughly."

She began to cry a little but stopped it almost immediately. She dried her eyes with her fist much in the manner of a small child. "Gee, Pete," she said in a small voice. "You're so nice to me."

I had no opportunity to reply, because the door came open and her father stood there, a briefcase in his hands. His cheeks reddened when he saw us together. "What are you doing here, Harmon?" he barked.

I released Jane. "I came to see Jane," I replied evenly.

"Get out of here, Harmon. Don't want you around her."

"Daddy," Jane said sharply. "Why are you talking to Pete this way?"

"I don't want him around you. That's plain enough, isn't it?"

I patted her arm. "I'll leave now, Jane, but I'll be back." I patted her arm. "I'll leave now, Jane, but I'll be back tonight."

"Don't go, Pete ... Daddy, I think you're awful, talking to him that way."

Cromar walked across the room and put his briefcase on the sofa. I wondered why he carried a briefcase. Did it contain a list of sex-hungry people wanting a thrill? Middle-aged women needing a young guy? Middle-aged men wanting a young girl? He turned about. "Beat it, Harmon. Right now. Don't come back."

"Good-bye, Jane," I said, ignoring him. "I'll be back tonight."

"Good-bye, Pete."

"Don't come back!" Cromar yelled, but I was already closing the door. I went to the front of the hall and stepped out into the street.

I walked for more than a block before I heard rather than saw the car pull up at the curb alongside me. "Pete," she called. "Come on. I'll give you a lift." I turned and saw Pearl Giska behind the wheel of a green Ford. "Come on. No Use walking. It's gonna rain again."

I don't know why, but I went to the car, pulled open the door and climbed in beside her. She wore a very short skirt, as she always seemed to do, and it was almost up around her hips. Her nylon-clad legs looked extremely appealing. I forgot all about the nice kid in the apartment. I could think only of this woman now. I had an immediate erection and realized she was aware of it by the sudden look of lust in her eyes.

"You're ready, aren't you, man?" she said, pulling the car away from the curb. "We'll be at my place shortly. Only two blocks."

I just stared at her enticing legs, moistening my lips repeatedly while she drove around the block and parked behind an apartment house. We got out without speaking and entered by way of the rear. She took me directly to her apartment and locked the door. I stood in the middle of the room watching her as she practically tore her clothing off. She stood naked in front of me, even her shoes and stockings having been removed.

"Want me to undress you, man? Might be fun."

"Yeah," I said thickly, excitement running through me. "Do that, will you?"

She dropped to the floor, removed both of my shoes and socks. Then she gestured to me to sit down. When I did she unbuckled my belt and pulled my pants down and off me. She threw the pants aside carelessly and tugged my shorts down. Seeing me, she sucked in her breath and, before removing my shirt, lowered her head and placed her lips about me wetly.

I thought I was going to flip from the sheer pleasure of the feeling.

"Just sit still, man. I'll do it all," she breathed, and applied her mouth to me again.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I DIDN'T REMEMBER GOING TO THE SOFA AND lying down. This came later. I lay there for some time without any clothing. Pearl had left the room supposedly to take a shower. I kept turning over in my mind the immense thrill of the way she had taken me so lustfully. Taken me all the way, no hesitation, no backing off, no quitting, nothing of the sort. This broad was about as lustful as any woman I had ever seen. She made no bones about what she wanted, when she wanted it. I liked this. All the time she had been working me I had thought about how I had turned her down the night before. I felt slightly sheepish for having done so. What did I care about Jane? She was only another woman. The thing to do was to take any desirable woman whenever she offered it and to hell with the ego bit about being able to turn them down.

Pearl came into the room abruptly then and I glanced up at her. She was still in the nude, but her hair was wet, so I knew she had been showering. She had something in her hand, but I paid no attention to it.

"Hey, man," she said. "Dig this." She came to me and I felt a quick pricking sensation. I saw the thing she had in her hand now. It was a needle, a syringe.

I sat up quickly. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't you wanna try the Morka, man?"

I remembered that strange deal again. "Oh, so that's what it is, the needle bit. What did you shoot into me?"

"Don't worry. It won't hurt you," she said, and grinning, walked from the room only to return a minute late. I rubbed my arm where she had injected the stuff.

"What is that stuff you gave me?" I asked. I wasn't worried, just curious.

"Forget it, man." she said, and no matter how much I tried to pump the information out of her, she wouldn't talk about it. I finally gave up and lay down flat on my back. In no time at all I had fallen asleep.

When I opened my eyes-the stuff must have been a sedative of some kind, though that hardly seemed reasonable if it were intended as a sex stimulant-I saw that Pearl Giska wasn't alone in the room. Jane was with her. I felt suddenly very guilty and grabbed for my pants. They were out of reach, however, and I got a pillow and put it over my nudity. I guess my cheeks were a bit red. I felt silly, even though Jane was blind and couldn't see me.

"Hello, Pete," she said, her tone sounding odd.

"Hi," I said nervously. Then to Pearl. "What's the big idea?"

"You mean bringing her here?" The Giska broad laughed.

"What the hell else whould I mean?"

"Don't worry about her," Pearl said. "I gave her a shot, too. She won't remember about it afterward any more than you will. By the way, I gave you a second shot, a sort of booster. You went to sleep on the first one."

I heard a sound and glanced toward the doorway. I was only mildly surprised to see Dr. Freeman enter the room.

"Hello, Pete," he said. "How you feeling?"

Funny thing-I was feeling great. I saw nothing strange about his being here. I looked at Janey. She was naked and sitting on a chair nearby. There was a certain lust on her face, but otherwise she appeared to be unperturbed. Actually, she looked extremely calm even though the doctor was standing near her and she would have known, of course, that she was exposing herself to him as well as to Pearl and me. They must have given her a big shot of the stuff, whatever it was, for her to appear so nonchalant.

"Pete," Dr. Freeman said. "Hope you don't mind. We want to try a little experiment. That okay?"

"So you're in on this Lust Club thing, too, eh, Doc?"

He grinned. "Sure, Pete. Have to make a buck, you know."

"Quite a coincidence, your being in on it, too."

He shook his head. "Not at all. Helen arranged in the first place for Pearl to take you home from the Poppy Club. Pearl put you through the wringer, so to speak, and while you were in another state of mind, shall I say, implanted the idea of coming to me. You see, we had to know a bit about you. Physically and mentally, I mean. I examined you and found you an ideal guy to experiment with."

"What sort of experiment?"

"The Morka thing. Jane's going to do it with you while we observe the reactions of both of you."

"The hell she is," I said, but my tone wasn't convincing even to me. The truth was, I didn't care what they did. I was in a weird state of half-euphoria and half the opposite, whatever that would be.

"You see, if this thing works like we think it will, we can make a lot of money selling it to certain people. People who need wild sexual relations. Do you understand me, Pete?"

I laughed somewhat wildly. "Sure. I'm not that dumb."

I wet my lips. "The way I understand it, it takes a strong man to withstand this so-called Morka bit. So how will you be able to sell the ... thing to middle-aged men? Hell, they couldn't take it."

He laughed. "What you're talking about is not the Morka. That was just a bit of nonsense I told Pearl to plant in your mind."

"You mean I don't have to lie between a bed and a chair?"

Again he laughed. "No, of course not. That's all baloney."

"Then what is the Morka?"

He frowned. "It's a sort of a cult sex thing. Very weird, but we think it works for people ... who can't get satisfaction any other way."

"What do I have to do?"

He shrugged. "You won't know anything about it. That's why we gave you the second sedative. You'll be sleeping soon."

"Why," I asked slowly, "don't you want me to know about what I'm doing?"

"Because if you know you could start your own lust club thing and sell the information."

"Sorry. I'm not interested in starting such a deal."

"Good. Glad to hear that. Just the same we don't want you to know what happens to-er-Jane?"

"Will it harm her?"

"No. Don't worry. She'll be home in a few hours."

"Does her old man know about this?"

He worked his mouth around. 'That's enough talk. Now close your eyes and go to sleep, Pete."

From somewhere I gathered the resolve to ask the next question. "Suppose I won't go through with this thing. Suppose I fight off sleep and ruin your whole bit."

He laughed mirthlessly. "You won't. You see, we have looked into your past very closely." He paused. "We know what you did to Helen and those other women."

I studied him without too much interest. "Oh ... and what is it I'm suppose to have done to them?"

"Don't you know?"

"Let's say I don't."

He frowned heavily. "You strangled them. So ... you must do as we say or we'll turn you over to the cops."

I don't know how long afterward it was that the doctor stood over me looking down into my eyes. It may have been ten seconds, it may have been a day. At any rate, he spoke to me.

"Sleep, Mr. Harmon. Sleep and dream, just as you have been doing."

My eyes were closed. I think I nodded slightly.

"Good," he said, sounding as if he were a long way off. "Sleep hard and dream hard. You won't remember anything when you wake up. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I said thickly, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

"Good," he said, and repeated the word several times.

I seemed to be about sixteen years old. I was lying on my bed reading a comic book. She came in. "Petey, what are you doing?"

I didn't look at her. I knew what she was going to do again.

"Answer me, Petey."

"Leave me alone."

"I won't leave you alone. You're a very wicked boy. I know what you did to your poor old father. You hated him for whipping you so much. When you got your driver's license you took him for a ride in the car. You knew his heart was bad and you deliberately drove a hundred miles an hour, taking curves recklessly. Your father died in the ear from sheer fright. Then you slowed down and took him to a doctor, but you took your time about it, didn't you? You wanted to be sure he was dead, Petey."

"So what about it? You hated him, too. All those women he had. You're just as glad to be rid of him as I am.""

"In a way, Petey, but only in a way. You see, you took my man away front me. I need a man, very, very badly."

"Go away," I said. "I won't do it again. You make me sick."

She grinned. "No, I don't. You like it. The girls your age don't need to know about it. You can have your fun light here at home."

"Leave me alone, damn you!" I yelled.

She removed her blouse, revealing her large breasts. I looked the other way. "Sorry, Petey, you have to. I need it."

"Goddamn you, you slut. You're my mother. I won't do it."

She grinned. "Oh, yes, you will, Petey. You'll do it every time I tell you to. Otherwise ... I'll tell the police."

"You're an evil old woman."

"I'm only thirty-nine."

"Damn you. I hate the sight of you."

"Just the same you have to please me, boy."

I threw the comic book aside. "All right, damn you. Lie down and I'll give it to you. Buy you know something? Someday I'll kill you, too."

She laughed coarsely. "No, not me, Petey. What you'll do is take it out on other women ... later in life. Wait and see."

"I hate you. You're a foul, sick, old woman."

"Make me well then, Petey. Hurry, boy." I made her well, damn her.

I saw Jane walk over to me, lean down and kiss me. At least I thought she did. I tried to sit up to see if the others were in the room. My head felt strange, fuzzy. I was fairly certain that we were alone.

"Jane," I said. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," she said. "What do you mean?"

"Where are they?"

"Gone."

"What about this Morka thing?"

"There isn't any such thing. They just made that up."

"Who made it up?"

"Dr. Freeman. His idea. They made me leave the room."

"Why would he do a thing like that?"

"Dr. Freeman is a member of the Lust Club."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Dr. Freeman," she said quietly, "is a homosexual."

"You mean...?"

"I guess so. You were out at the time, I guess." I felt like throwing up. "How much did the Giska broad charge him for the use of my body?"

"I don't know."

I sat up now and looked around. I wasn't in the Giska apartment but in Jane's bedroom. "How did I get here?"

"I asked them to bring you here afterward."

"Crazy people. They're all nuts."

"I guess so."

"I had the craziest dreams. My ... past life flashed before me. What was the stuff they gave me?"

"I don't know."

I noticed for the first time that I was fully clad. "Who dressed me?"

"I did."

She walked away from the bed and sat down on a bench in front of a mirror. I watched her pick up a brush and comb and do things with her hair. Her hair looked somewhat better than it usually did, was neater, something.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Combing my hair."

I thought she was acting very strangely but shrugged it away, got up and walked into the front room. I found a bottle and had a couple of drinks. A thought hit me with surprising suddenness.

"Jennie," I called out loudly.

She came to the door. "Yes?"

"That's what I suspected. You aren't Jane. You're Jennie posing as Jane. I thought it was damned odd you could part your hair with a comb and get it so straight. Jane is supposed to be blind," I added sarcastically.

"No such person as Jane," she said calmly. "It's been me all along. I work for the Lust Club."

""Really. Your father hires you to lay guys? Is that it?"

"Why not? A girl has to make money, too, you know."

I took another drink. "Of all the damned phony deals I ever heard of. Telling me I had killed you. All that nutty stuff. What for?"

"Ask the doc."

"You tell me, Jennie."

"No," she said. "How about a drink?"

"Help yourself." I paused, took a deep breath. "Then Helen isn't dead, either?"

"How would I know? You were with her last."

I changed the subject. "Why did you pose as Jane?"

"Two reasons. The doc insisted he have something on you. You had attacked Jennie, in case you've forgotten, as well as Helen. I guess his idea was to frighten you into thinking he had something on you. Then, if you found out he was a homo and had fooled around with you, you couldn't give him away. Doctors have to think of their repuations, you know. A doctor can't just indulge in weird sex without the public ... well, raising hell about it."

"That damned fiend," I said melodramatically.

"Yeah," she said. "Tough."

"Why did you make believe you were blind?"

She didn't answer.

I repeated the question.

"I like to kid people," was her explanation.

"You sure had me fooled," I said, and meant it.

"Yeah. That's where the fun comes in."

"You're quite an actress. You should go on the stage."

"So they tell me. I got a better deal. More dough."

"When I first met you, you posed as a virgin. I really thought you were, the way you acted."

She smiled cynically. "I'm pretty good, like I said."

"Those crazy dreams, or whatever, I had. What caused them, do you know?"

"Doc gave you some psychedelic stuff, don't ask me what."

"You mean like LSD?"

"I don't know. Ask him."

"Funny thing," I said, more to myself than to her. "It wasn't just dream stuff ... it was partly true."

"Yeah," she said, suddenly looking strange. "I heard you muttering about not wanting to lay your mother. Was that ... did that really happen to you when you were a teenager?"

I nodded but didn't look at her. The hell with her and her damned questions.

"Tough," she said sarcastically. "So you've been feeling sorry for yourself ever since."

"If it had happened to you, you might understand a few things."

She broke into a derisive laugh. "And what do you think my old man has been doing to me since I was thirteen?" I was taken aback. "Is that true or are you putting on another of your famous acts?"

"It's true. It's true as hell." I was silent.

"Hey," she said at length. "Was that true what you were muttering about killing your old man?"

I stared at her hard. "What do you think?"

She shrugged. I couldn't get over the difference in this girl. She was certainly one hell of an actress. "Don't have any thoughts on it. You want to tell me, then tell me. If you don't, forget it."

"I didn't kill him. He just died."

"I see." She took a drink.

"One thing I don't get. Why did you let me make love to you? There wasn't any money in my lovemaking."

"Maybe I liked it. Ever think of that. Besides, I told you-I like to kid people. What else have I got, the kind of life I've had to live?"

"Oh ... so now you're feeling sorry for yourself, too."

"So what if I am?" she flared. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing."

"Lousy damned men. I hate 'em, all of 'em. Pawin' you over and wanting a piece of you for nothing."

I moved toward her. "You don't like men?"

"Only for what I can get out of them."

"What would you like to get from me, baby?" I asked, moving closer to her.

"Nothin'. I can't stand the sight of you any more."

"You aren't going to have to look at me for long, you know."

"Good. Does that mean you're going to clear out of here?"

"Yes, in a minute. I'll have to clear out, you see." She turned and looked at me steadily. "Why are your hands shaking so much. Are you sick?"

I laughed. "So I've been told. The first one to tell me was my mother. She said I'd end up taking out my revenge on other women."

She moved back, fear in her eyes. "Now wait a minute, man. Don't try rough stuff on me 'cause your mother seduced you."

That was all she said.

I had my shaking hands fastened about her slender throat. I squeezed and kept on squeezing until there was no life left in her stupid body. I let her fall to the floor a minute later. She lay very still.

My mind spun slightly. "There you are, Mother. You were right, after all, damn you. I got my revenge on you, didn't I?"

Nobody answered me. Nobody at all.

THE END
The Frenzied Flesh ....(69k)    by J.X. Williams





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







.....7762 home .....7764








---

	"Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!!"™ A MrDouble Production: mrdouble

Page Design Copyright � 1998-2011, Mr Double, ALL Rights Reserved    
Stories Copyright respective authors.