But it was too soon, maybe too quick altogether. There was still the stuff waiting in the mast of the Bianca, the moves to be made so it would turn into a suitcase full of money. And there were still the Allisons, the glamorous mother and the beautiful daughters, and they were mixed in with the hermit years, the monk-hood years when the up and coming middleweight had deprived himself and his man's needs.
They were too much for him to turn down, even if Lei was with him, for him, all the time. They were the differences, the candy wrappings of the vaired and intriguing packages of sensuality. Lorna-tiny and golden and knowing of all things sensual. Jan-small and child-like, the constant eager virgin. Cleo-young and worldy and open; what man could turn down such a trio?
Not until they tired of him. Not until the newness and marvels wore off, and it might take a good long time for all of that to erode. He hadn't had the three of them together yet, and he closed his eyes to picture the three in bed together at the same time, all glowingly naked, all joined by the heat of their blood line and their mutual lust for him, for their stud.
CHAPTER ONE
His rod was going to split. Not only the pants made tight by its swollen length, but his prick itself was going to rip itself open. The throbbing of it was like a drum beat, or like the slow hammering of a timing bag. It was killing him.
Rush stared at the tight dress that clung to every line of the woman, at the slit skirt that peeled back to expose so much silken thigh, and thought that two years without a woman was too damned long. His throat choked up as she turned and held out a drink to him. His hand shook as he accepted the glass.
"Hey now," she said softly. "You've got it bad. I never shook anybody up like that before. I mean-I felt that powerful yen of yours at the club, but-"
"You can throw me out," he said. "I hope you don't, but I'll cut on out if you want. Otherwise I-I'll just have to put my hands on you."
Rush gulped the drink without tasting-it. He'd had seven or eight before it, watching this beautiful woman do her strip act in the club. Funny they hadn't made him fly any higher; he'd been two years without a drink, too. The hacks at Soledad prison didn't serve drinks or make women available.
Her almond-shaped eyes were on his, testing him, weighing him. He thought that this lovely Chinese stripper was wondering if he was weird, if she should have brought him to her apartment. Lei was her name, Lei Ng, and she was all the women he'd dreamed of while locked away in the joint. He was damned lucky she'd brought him this far.
She'd made up her mind. Her lips softened and her dark eyes marked him okay. His cock ached as she stepped back and made a sudden graceful move with both hands; her dress lifted up and away, and she stood there proudly naked before him. Her breasts were high and stiffly nippled, her skin smooth and golden, the crisply curled hair of her pussy was black. Black as the wealth of hair that hung all the way down her back to her rounded ass.
Rush's hands tore at his shirt, his pants; he kicked off his shoes and somehow got out of shorts and teeshirt. He couldn't wait. He caught her to him, crushed those nippled tits to him in a frenzy of need that had been building up for a long, long time. He didn't want to hurt her, but maybe he did.
Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue a quickly darting little animal that tried to hide from his. But her warm, smooth body writhed against his, ground and squirmed against his, and she had his hard, pulsing rod in one soft hand.
They went to the floor together, him tasting the flavor of her, the woman taste, the female spiciness of her mouth and her silken flesh. Rush pulled a nipple into his mouth and held himself in so that her questing hand wouldn't blow him off.
Her mound was satiny, the hair tickling his palm, the moist heat of it cupped close and hungrily. He couldn't wait; he had already waited too damned long. He spread her legs and lifted himself between them, aching and shivering all over. Lei helped him, guided him with her soft, warm hand into her soft, warm box.
Then she brought her arms around his neck, and lifted her long, silken legs to seat him better when he lunged into her. Her breasts flattened against his chest and her mouth clung savagely to his, her sharp teeth raked across his as she met his driving passion with her lifting, twisting pelvis and the sure strength of her pussy.
He laid it into her, trying to hold off, trying like hell to keep himself from blasting off at the first constriction of her cunt upon his driving prick. But she was too much for him, and Rush turned loose in a twisting, grinding plunge that buried him to the root inside her. He clutched at her buttocks, dug his fingers into their smooth, hunching roundness as Lei clamped upon his cock.
Rush made some kind of noise into her mouth, some moaning sound that could not tell of the tortured nights of anguish in the joint, that could never speak of the need and longing. He was ashamed it was over so quickly, yet glad it was done in the act of doing-not because of some wet dream or a queen's sly hand upon his prick, or the wriggling invitation of a half-mast's tail pressed into his hard-on in the chow line.
The bastards had never let him alone. For two painful years, they had never let him alone. But they hadn't tried any muscle again-not since he punched out three of them, bang-bang-bang. It didn't take much to rap out jocks and queens; not when a guy knew how to fire the hands.
And not when the hands were good once more.
"Hey now," Lei said gently beneath him, "hey man-you're so eager-"
And that was true also. He was still eager, still hard and powerful inside her caressing box. Her fluids and his, made her hotter, more slippery, and Rush stroked her some more-long, lingering, feeling-around strokes that touched bottom and all sides. He was good for her, good with her, and the magic depths of her were his to explore, to plumb, to seek out in his swollen cock.
Lei's legs lifted once more, but this time to cross with hungry zeal across his sweaty back, to lock her pelvis tightly to him so that her pubic hair became one with his pubic hair.
"Ahh-" and she lifted to him.
"Hey man-" and she drew back, wriggled back only to force herself forward upon his pile driving prick.
"Ooh, baby-" and she ground just as hard upon him as her body would allow.
Good and hot and slippery inside; hairy and clenching and all soft satins along her thighs; shapely and quivering, the cheeks that fit so snugly within his hands.
This one for the long, hot nights with eyes open and seeing all the fine girls on the ceiling of the sweating cell.
That one for the hard-on in the showers, with the bastard queens simpering close by and offering cartons of smokes for it.
This grinding thrust into her box for the jockers that touched his ass in the corridors.
That jamming lunge into her shuddering velvet hole for the sons of bitches all-the hacks and before them the cops and the bastard judge and the stupid jury.
And now-now-with Lei Ng crowding and moaning and shaking her lovely ass-now, this climbing, screaming, booming off load that wet her, drenched her as it shook him loose from his heaving backbone.
This was for the career shot down, the big money kissed off, the one chance Rush Scanlon ever had of being somebody, you bastards. This pumping semen, this spurting stuff was for all the hard work and the hammering, for being a monk when everybody else was screwing all the beautiful, hot girls.
Screw you all.
He rolled from her, and she allowed him to slip out of her, to slide, yet hard, from the enchanted suctioning of her organ. He trailed a track across the impossibly smooth and flawless skin of her thigh, that golden skin that looked as if it had been polished and stretched over some inner light.
Lei put her hand gently upon his cock and rested it there, calmed him there. Her hair spilled over his chest and down his belly, hair the color of midnight in the high mountains, hair that smelled like all the young girls walking sweetly among all the springtime gardens.
This woman, maybe his first real woman, this giving and accepting woman with the almond eyes and the sexy body, lay her face upon his trembling chest and snuggled close to him, not even knowing his name, not giving a damn that he was fresh out of Soledad prison. He was grateful to her and would always be, for this was the stuff of the nightmare dreams in the joint; the hotly beautiful broad who took you for yourself, the classy chick who was a dancer-singer-actress-millionaire-movie star and would screw you until your nose bled, man.
Only, the sad bastards who made it out on the streets, never really found a woman like that. They found the hookers and bar flies and old ladies, and the guys made them do until they got busted again and could go back to dreaming of next time, next time, while they screwed the queens or got screwed by the jockers, and went on seeing how it ought to be, in their heads, and on the black ceilings of the cells.
But look here what happened to Rush Scanlon. Look here at the fabulous body curled up to his, at the shiny nipples, almost black, they were so dark, and look down there at that Oriental princess skin and that damply gleaming patch of hair between her thighs, and tell it around that Rush Scanlon made it all the way.
He still couldn't quite figure it all out. Ten guys-twenty maybe, had tried to make it with Lei Ng that night. It wasn't as if a beautiful stripper ever got hard up and went home with the first guy that asked her.
Some of those Johns had money, too; it showed in their clothes and confidence and the soft grace of them. Yet Lei had chilled them and took up with a guy who could only stare hungrily at her through three shows.
"Vibes, baby," she murmured against his chest, "good vibrations, doll. I knew we'd fit when I saw you watching me like you could spread me on toast. It doesn't happen that way often, believe me. I'm kind of choosy who I bring home to my rice paddy."
Tentatively, he stroked her hair, touched that wealth of deep soft wonder with gentle fingertips. She made purring noises and burrowed deeper into his flesh, her breath stirring the little gathering of hairs on his chest, her tongue flicking out to taste him. She was a lot of woman, proud and eager and knowing. She nipped his skin delicately with her teeth and her hand roamed over his belly and down between his legs and cupped his sack.
Rush drew in a deep and shuddering breath as she slid down to take his nipples in her mouth, and to roll them one at a time in between a sharpness and a wetness that made him gasp. Down his ribcage and his belly, and striking like a hot serpent into his belly button. He reached up and behind him blindly, and caught hold of table legs, one to each hand, so he could try and crush them as Lei probed among his pubic hair and found the slowly rising, slowly stiffening shaft of his sex.
Her tongue touched him retreated, advanced on him again. Warm, damp, exciting, it was teasing him into spasms. It was going to happen to him now, and he was going to let it happen, because this was a woman doing it, and not some simpering queen. It would be different with a woman, with this woman; it would be good.
Lei drew the knob into her mouth, pulled it right on in there and worked it over with obvious pleasure, her fingers busy at root and sack and over his lower belly. Rush clamped down on the table legs, squeezed hard on them and squirmed on the floor, arching his back and heaving with her as she built up a pressure upon him, bringing him to a climax, moaning and groaning.
He'd been right. It was good with this woman. It was something to remember, to treasure as he'd treasured the erotic dreams in the joint, a thing to cling to as he had held onto the bigger dream of the championship.
And the big money; and the thing that would have set him free in the mountains.
Slowly, lasciviously, she kissed her way back up his belly and across his chest and finally into the hollow of his throat. That rich hair sheeted him again, and he thought hazily that a man could hide forever in its scented softness.
Outside the building, a sea bird cried harshly as it lifted in the early morning light; a curious wind fingered the window lightly, and moved on, taking its faint salt odor with it. Lei was warm against him, fitted against him, and the two years of tension was gone, pumped out in the sweet convulsions of sex.
It was right and it was good to lie this way with a naked woman, and Rush kept his eyes closed as he breathed in the warmed scents of her body and hair. He heard her breathing slow itself, and felt the relaxing of her body; Lei Ng was asleep.
Rush let himself drift, let himself slide down the darkening slope of consciousness, his arm around the Chinese girl, his flesh aware of the caress of her flesh. Lucky bastard; maybe finding and making Lei had changed his rotten luck. It was past time for a change. Man-how many guys could claim a score like her, and not be shuckin'?
He had to admit he'd been double lucky, to walk into just that club for his first drink, his first sullen celebration of freedom No tail of Rush Scanlon; no parole requirements to meet, because he'd done every damned day of his time, and the fall had been rough for him. Rush had done hard time, counting the days, the nights, the seasons.
Maybe it was all changing now. First the club, "The Shipwreck", and the blowup pictures outside displaying the charms of Lei Ng, "seductive Chinese Princess who does the dances of the temples." Then the mast built into the mirrors behind the bar itself. Hell, he'd been so wrapped up in the bumps and grinds of the Chinese stripper that he hadn't even noticed that mast at first.
The whole club was decorated with bits and pieces of old ships and fishing boats that had piled onto the rocky coastline of Monterey County, but that mast was special. It was off the fishing boat Bianca; there was a brass plate on its steel column that said so. The plate gave the name of the ship, its captain, and the date of its wreck. There could be no mistake about it.
Rush remembered that wreck, because it had spun him into the icy, rock-toothed surf; because it had damned near killed him.
And he knew that mast, since he'd carefully taken off a small patch plate, and even more carefully put it back into place, re-daubing its screw heads with grey paint and staining the new paint with grime so it wouldn't stand out.
Rush Scanlon had sat stiffly and unbelievingly on the bar stool shaped like a captain's chair, and stared at the mast between the blue mirrors and flanked by a hundred different bottles. He stared at it almost as hard as he'd watched the convolutions of the Oriental stripper as she'd shaken those high, erectly nippled breasts at him, as she'd rolled her silken belly and bumped her sequined crotch at him.
He wanted the stripper, sure-needed her gyrating, sexy body so much that he raised a hard just wishing he could make it with her, and he'd kept that swollen erection until some kind of magic had worked between them and Lei took him home with her.
But Rush also wanted some way to get at that boat mast, that grey phallic erection off the Bianco. He had to find a way. From the first stunned look at it, he felt a sudden lift and surge of hope that everything hadn't been shot down after all, that maybe, just maybe the big dream could come true.
Because that mast held the stuff to make it come true, held the rainbow in its waterproof belly, wrapped in square kilos by oiled paper and sealed with wax.
Heroin.
Possibly two hundred thousand dollars worth of it.
CHAPTER TWO
She rode him up and down, playing jockey to his stud horse, sliding high and plunging low on his upright staff, wriggling joyfully upon his still ready cock. Lei's breasts rocked with the rhythm of her action, and her slim hips rolled from side to side as she pounded it to him.
This time, they had gotten as far as the bed. Behind them on the stove, the coffee pot was slowing its perks, but the fry pan still waited empty beside a glowing burner, eggs and bacon ready beside it, but unused.
Rush put both hands on her hips, enjoying the slide of them between his palms, reveling in the smooth friction of her silken flesh. Lei worked on his cock, moving forward awhile, then back again so that she might have more pressure on her clitoris.
Beautiful woman, first prize woman, she picked up speed slowly, stepped up her pumping degree by degree, and now she weaved her tail from side to side in an ever increasing beat. She loved her job, and he loved her for doing it so damned well.
Digging his heels into the bed, Rush arched his back and lifted her so that her knees were off the sheets. Lei pushed down with her feet so that she could hammer on him better, and ground her pelvis around and around in a frenzy that made her throw back her head and squeeze shut her sloe eyes. He heard the gritting of her teeth and the gasping of her breath, all mingled with the juicy, sounds of their stroking together.
Then he heard nothing but the roaring in his own ears and the pounding of his own heart as he dug his fingers into her waist and gave that final, driving thrust up into her vagina.
He came, and her contractions told him she was coming, too. He pumped into her, packed her with his release, and her own liquids mingled with him, blended with him, hot and squirmy and good, good. Oh man, oh man-he had never had it so good, never in his life.
Lei collapsed panting upon his chest, the pencil ends of her tits burrowing into his chest, that river of black-black hair tenting around him, caressing his skin, covering them both with the forbidden pleasures of midnights in pagan temples.
The years came snapping back at him as he held her on top of him with his rod slowly melting inside her box, all the useless, wasted years when he'd forced himself to stay away from girls because he was a stupid bastard dedicated to his profession, to the life and fortune he was going to bang out for himself with his own two hands.
Yeah-the young hermit sweating his balls off in the gym, playing punching bag to any old pro who'd let him climb inside the ropes. Yeah-the dedicated kid asking all the questions and working out all the answers in front of the mirrors until the guys who owned the gyms threw him out so they could lock up for the night.
While the really smart guys were getting into the nylon panties of girls, girls redheaded and girls golden haired, and young, hot broads with hair like this, the color of a storm cloud turned inside out.
Rush moved his fingers through Lei's hair, and she murmured against his throat. "Man-you are some far out lover. It's like you never had it before, or maybe like you've been cut off a long time. Mind you, baby, I'm not complaining. It's almost-well, almost as if I never was laid before, either."
He thought about her, about the way they'd come together last night. He thought about the joint sitting all wired and towered in, up in that windy valley by Soledad. Then he thought about the mast in the Shipwreck Club, the steel pole hollow in the middle, and there was cold sweat on his forehead as he realized the stuff could be gone, that someone else might have discovered it. He tightened up all over, and Lei moved off him, sliding his rod out of her regretting box.
"Do I bug you, taking so much?"
"No, no," he said. "I just can't get over how damned lucky I've turned, all of a sudden. I-" he stopped, not sure if he ought to tell her, afraid he might lose her so soon after he had found her.
He knew the fear was twofold, that some kind of vague plan was already forming in his mind to use her. It wouldn't be a snap, getting to that mast behind the bar; ginmills were about the best protected places around; that's what the burglars said. Bars had plenty of wired alarms and sometimes big dogs inside, and the fuzz checked them more often than banks, even.
"Hey," she smiled at him, "I feel lucky, too. But I'm also hungry, so if I can fix us some fish heads and rice this time-"
Graceful, smooth and unashamed, she swung off the bed and strode lithely into the bath. Rush watched the play of her butt, the evenly intriguing motions of flexing and unflexing and found it difficult to believe he'd just been up in between those cheeks, that he'd rutted and come between those sleekly whispering thighs.
Everybody was after a stripper; every guy got somewhat heated up by staring at her tits and tail and by seeing her shake it and bump it like she'd really enjoy doing it with a shaft inside her. Everybody dreamed about screwing a stripper, but how many men made it? Rush Scanlon made it-and he couldn't stop; he never wanted to stop. He wanted to stick it to her all the time, in all the ways they hadn't even tried yet. He wanted her to help him make up for the lonely years, the shot down years, the time in the joint.
She could help him get the stuff, too. But how the hell would he go about that? He couldn't just say: Look, doll, I'm a con just fresh out of the joint, and I know where maybe a quarter mill in heroin is, so how about us going partners?
Lei came out of the bathroom, looking scrubbed and fresh, and he got up to take his own shower, feeling a little funny at walking around naked in front of a woman, but a little proud of his flat gut and the heavy shoulders, the ropy arms and good legs of a middleweight. He'd kept in shape in the joint by roadwork and shadow boxing and working like hell.
But it was out of habit, when he thought about it. He knew he'd never get a license to fight again.
Showered and shaved with a delicate lady's electric razor, he came out and ate ravenously. The girl could cook, too; lots of hot buttered toast and good rich coffee, with all the bacon and eggs he could handle. At last he sat back and grinned at her. "Call me lucky."
"You said that. Besides, I get a kick out of watching a man really eat. I-well, I don't get to cook often." She stared at him then, sharp and direct. "Rush-I'm no teeny bopper who falls in love with every guy she lays. And I'm no whore, either; it's not often I make it with anybody, and when I do, it's my choice. Then I might tell him thanks and that's it."
Rush took a last sip of coffee. "And?"
She lowered her lashes, looked away. "And I hope to see you again tonight. I-I never said that to a guy; not for a long time, anyway."
"Hey," he said, "that's great. I mean-look, Lei-I'm no big winner. I've got maybe thirty bucks left, and-now wait. I didn't mean it that way. I'm also-" he hesitated; then plunged ahead, "I'm also an ex-con. I just hit the street yesterday afternoon."
Her dark eyebrows lifted. "Soledad?"
He nodded. "For two years, but I'm out clean; no parole."
"Should I ask what you did?"
Rush pulled the towel closer around his hips. He still felt a little odd, sitting half naked with a woman he barely knew and talking casually. "I beat up a guy, a man from here in Monterey. He had it coming, but his buddies told it a different way, and since I was a pug-"
"A fighter?" she asked. "A professional boxer?"
"Yeah; at least, I used to be. That meant I got busted for ADW-assault with a deadly weapon-my hands. That meant a fall in Soledad, after they ran me through the mill in the reception center at Vacaville. And I stayed my full time because I Kid to fight a couple of times in the joint-in prison. Now I'm an ex-con and an ex-pug, because I can't get a license to fight anymore-not in this state, not in any other."
Her eyes were soft upon his, deep. "That's tough, baby. What will you do now?"
For one crazy second, he was going to tell her about the stuff, the fabulously valuable junk hidden-maybe-in the mast of the shipwrecked fishing boat Bianca. But then he said, "That's okay; I might not have been good enough to make it all the way, anyhow."
He helped her with the dishes, drying while she washed, but he didn't know where anything went, and she had to put the stuff away. She was wearing a loose silk robe, and its material was no smoother than her skin; the robe fell open a lot, and her breast peeked out.
It was a small apartment-kitchenette and bath and bedroom, so they sat on the bed, talking awhile about nothing very important, just enjoying being open and free with each other. Then he kissed her on her full, ripe mouth, and the casualness came apart at the seams. Her tongue found his and raced over it, and her stiff nipples dug into his bare chest.
She pulled her mouth away to gasp it: "I don't know what it is with you, Rush-but I go out of my head every time you put your hands on me."
He ran his hands over her, in between the polished thighs, over the mossy center mouud. "Me, too. I can't get enough of you, baby. And I want to do things for you, to you. Look-I've never been down on a girl before, but I want to do it to you. I want to taste you and eat you and make you freak out, but if I do it wrong-you tell me, okay?"
The noise she made was half-moan, half-giggle. "I'll tell you."
He found her breast as she shed the robe and lay back on the bed; cupping it in one hand while the other played with her mound, he lowered his face to it and drew the hard nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, sucking it. Lei's hands stroked his hair, his cheeks.
Rush slid down her chest to the trembling belly, to the flawless, impossibly smooth skin waiting there for him, for the nipping caress of his teeth and the sliding tease of his tongue. Remembering what she had done to him, and how, he plunged his tongue into her navel and knew the surging response as her pelvis lurched upward to him.
It was exciting; his rod was swollen and once more threatening to split along its length. All the stupid, wasted time-the big no-no the kids made dirty jokes about, the queer thing, the perverted thing-but it wasn't, and now he knew it; now he felt the ancient untruths dissolving in the rising scent of her, the rising heat of her.
Her pubic hair was furry, springy, but delicately layered, piled so cunningly, entrancingly for him, and he went in there between her parted thighs as if it was a thing he had been doing all his life, as if he had always belonged there, and maybe that was true.
He licked his tongue down into that hair, and through it, and discovered the femaleness of her, the beauty there; he went on into her depths, feeling and exploring, while she rolled around and cried out, and used her hands on his head to guide him to that special place.
Rush worked it over for her, with her, knowing all her hidden flavors and all her secret bubblings until she arched suddenly and madly to him, coming as if she would never stop.
He lifted himself back up her squirming body then, and braced his cock to her mound, to that moist center he'd just left with his other end. She snapped him inside her, and they stroked together for a long time that way, fitting so well, wriggling and feeling and reaching for the great, wild thing that would be greater and wilder if they found it and shared it together.
They did; they came together, grasping and raking and slamming in that brutal kind of tenderness that made it all so fine, that made being a man and woman the marvel it can sometimes become.
Rush rolled off her, but she would not let him go. She clamped her thighs and contracted her cunt somehow to hold him inside her. They lay face to face, with her belly tight to his, with his cock slowly lessening in her.
They talked some more, and he told her about the brawl he'd been in, the one that got him busted; he told her it had taken place close by the place she worked, on Fisherman's Wharf, with the tourists scattering and yelling and the three guys coming at him from the fish-gutting joint.
Big bastards, all of them, with the captain at the head, not thinking he really needed the other guys, but playing it safe as always. Rush took the captain out from under his blue peaked cap with the first hook, not bothering to set him up with a jab since he was coming in so wide open.
The left hand felt fine; it didn't come all apart, but held together solid and substantial, and Rush knew then that the long fishing trip had paid off like it was supposed to. Not with money, because that's what the beef was about, but with a thick, salted skin over the knuckles and a layer of new muscle above and below. A real fighter's hands now, and Rush felt great as one of the other bastards got to him with a high right hand. Rush Scanlon's left hand didn't break any more. He slid around and fired the right to see how it was, and it was good, too, on the bastard's cheekbone.
He got in two solid shots on the third guy before that one took off with his buddy. That left the captain getting off the wharf with blood on his mouth-the smartass, tough guy captain of the Bianco who had ridden him and worked him more than any other three regular fishermen.
Captain Geegee Fallo wanted to run, too, but Rush wouldn't let it go; he had too much stored up, so he moved in on Fallo and punished his belly, He put a shoulder under Fallo's chin so the big bastard wouldn't fall again; then he set himself and really went to work-winging the punches, digging his toes into the wharf for leverage, in and out, down and up, glorying in the release of smooth, timed power that had always been his. He liked it even more because of the captain's big, rotten mouth, the captain's attempt to screw him out of the wages.
Maybe he shouldn't have hammered the guy so long. He should have been content to bang him a couple and forget it. Hell, he had good hands again, and what did five months' wages make, against good hands? Rush should have thanked Geegee Fallo for working him so damned hard and toughening the hands.
Instead, he beat the shit out of him, and when the fuzz got there, he didn't realize who they were and slammed one of them, too. They worked him over with a club and a blackjack and put cuffs on him.
In court, nobody'd seen the other two guys-only Fallo and the savage beating he'd taken. The captain showed up with scars and bandages and his head all out of shape. Yeah, Rush Scanlon was a professional fighter, or had been until his hands got brittle and he went tuna fishing to make them hard and usable.
Rush Scanlon's lawyer didn't much care, and Guiseppe Fallo was a hometown boy with a lot of buddies, and after that it was Soledad prison.
Soledad means lonely in Spanish, he told Lei as they snuggled together on her rumpled bed, and it sure as hell was. Maybe now she could help him make up for it.
CHAPTER THREE
He didn't tell her about the junk in the mast; not yet. There was an uneasiness in him, a not-trusting that came in part from the time spent in the joint, where nobody trusted anybody, and with good reason.
Rush sat in the Shipwreck Club, at the far end of the bar, drinking beer and spacing that out so he wouldn't be too high when Lei finished her work for the night. More time, he thought; more closeness with her, and then he might let her know about the big money that was probably still in that grey steel decoration behind the bar. Then Lei could help him get to it, maybe even help him with the place up north.
He could do worse than Lei. She was beautiful and hot, hot as any man could need; she loved to screw, and she enjoyed all the different things. She exuded that feel of sex, that faint perfume of sex; no wonder the guys in the club stared so hungrily at her when she did her strip numbers.
When she came out on the floor in a blue spotlight, spinning and giving weird little yips to the excited backgrounding of gongs and reed instruments wailing high and Oriental. That slit skirt, and tight across the breasts dress, went fine with high heels and her swinging, rippling hair.
When she peeled out of the dress, you could hear the crowd suck in its breath, Rush right along with it. Those high, proud tits stuck out with glittering pasties on them, and her perfect skin glowed in the bath from the spotlight.
Lei shook her tail and made her belly roll up and down; she rode her pelvis right up at a guy at ringside, grinding and bumping her gee-string covered box at him. Rush felt sorry for the guy because he knew how he felt. Hell, Rush was getting another erection just from watchin all that sleek ass, and from understanding that it was every bit as good as it looked.
She wasn't a phony, and her real sensuousness showed; her vital, passionate nature sent out little beckoning tendrils of appealing sex that put tiny hooks into a man's groin and tugged him toward her.
Lei cupped her breasts and peeled the pasties off her nipples, so she could run her fingers over them, cupping her tits and offering them to the men staring open-mouthed at her. The music thumped and banged, and Lei matched the rhythm with her hips, with the clenching and unclenching of her buttocks and the slam of her eager pelvis.
She slid across the floor, undulating and hunching, and finished her act directly in front of Rush, smiling wetly at him and making him a silent promise that she'd follow through later, as soon as she could. The spot snapped out and the music rose to crescendo; riotous applause followed Lei as she ducked through the curtains of the dressing room passage.
Every man felt a little lonely at her going.
The voice at Rush's ear was soft, and its breath stirred warmly upon him: "Seems as if you've made a hit with our little temple goddess."
Rush turned on the bar stool and looked head-on into a face every bit as lovely as Lei's, but in a totally different way. This one was blonde, burnished expensively and more mature; not old, just ripely filled out and softened. Yet there was an underlying something about the woman's face, an anticipation, a kind of evil knowing and waiting.
He said, at the sea-green eyes, at the red-ripe mouth: "Lei is a lovely girl."
"Oh, indeed," the woman said, the eyes measuring him, weighing him, probing into his depths. "Lovely and-talented. I'm Lorna Allison. In a way, I'm Lei's boss. I own the joint."
He told her his name and took the small, warm hand she slid into his. Lorna was in no hurry to take it away. She said softly, "Lei has finally found herself a real man, I see. That's good. It's a shame to waste all that sex."
Rush tried a grin and felt it slipping; he let go the warm hand and offered Lorna a drink. She nodded at the hovering barkeep and refused to let Rush pay for anything. She was small and trim, but neatly rounded and glossy; he put her age at the mid-thirties, but that was only by guess. Loma Allison showed no lines in her face, and no sagging of a well kept body.
Lei's boss? She could make it easy for him to get at the mast behind the bar. One woman or the other, he needed help to take this last big chance.
If that was using somebody, okay it had to be. A lot of things had combined to make Rush Scanlon a has-been at twenty-eight years of age, and the same things had effectively blocked him off from anything but sweat and a third class life.
The junk in that boat's mast could change all that and make him a leading contender-not in the ring, because that was not important, because nobody remembered the prelim boys, only the fighters good enough to make it to the main events.
"How'd you like to join us?" Lorna Allison asked. "At my place tonight. I need a little help, getting ready for a party. I'll fix it with Lei, and she can join us after her last show, okay?"
"Okay," Rush agreed, because that evil just beneath her expensive surface lured him.
She was back before he finished his next beer, and took his arm to walk beside him out of the Shipwreck Club. Rush felt the barkeep's eyes stab him between the shoulders, and looked back to grin at the man.
"Here, doll," she said, and handed him the keys to the big Continental. "I'll show you the way."
She was warm beside him, her rounded thigh touching his, her left breast brushing him from time to time as she steered him across the peninsula to the plush precincts of the Carmel Highlands. He was up again, not worn down as he ought to be after a night of loving with Lei, but ready for more.
It was still part of the prison dream, the big car and the rich blonde, the sprawling house on the edge of the ocean, buttressed by cypress and high walls, but mostly by money. Lorna Allison owned a lot more than just the Shipwreck.
In a huge party room under the house proper, she fixed drinks for them both, whirling around in her bright white dress, with the miniskirt up to the tops of her thighs. A wonderfully constructed woman, this Lorna, all lush and rich all knowing and experienced. And ready?
"Your party room's all fixed," he said over his glass. "You said you needed a little help?"
She put her empty glass down on the bar top and came to him, mouth wet with whiskey, eyes gleaming with purpose. She put her back to him and turned her head over one shoulder, completely woman. "With this damned zipper," she said. "Do you mind?"
He drew down the zipper and his hand shook as it brushed the top of her tight little butt. She wore panties, she had to with that skirt, but there was no bra strap. He heard the slither of the dress as she dropped it over his hips, but he didn't look down. He was staring at her nude back, at the pink and silver skin, at the little curls of her golden hair against the nape of her small neck.
She backed into him as he sat wide-legged on the bamboo bar stool, her hands deft at her waist where the panties snugged. He nuzzled into her neck, biting lightly upon the skin as his hands slid around over her glowing skin to find her tits.
They fit into his hands nicely, small but firm and round, with rigid little nipples standing at attention for his thumbs. He kissed the back of her neck as he caressed her breasts, and she wriggled back into him, pushing against his hard-on. Rush kissed her ear and ran the tip of his tongue into it.
She whipped around then, sea-green eyes blazing, mouth open and wild. She grabbed his cock, squeezing it urgently as she lifted her mouth for his kiss. Her tongue went crazy on his, and her teeth clashed with his.
"Come on," she panted, "come on, damn you!"
She was so small, so tiny that his hands met around her slim waist. Rush lifted her as her hands ripped at his pants and pulled out his organ. He lifted her straight up and she swung her legs open as he slid his own legs out and brought her down upon his upthrust prick.
Lorna was small all over; her cunt was tight and clinging. The curly hairs rich upon it were golden, and the notch resisted the swollen size of him. Her arms went around his neck to pull his face down to her trembling breasts and one of her nipples popped into his mouth just as his cock forced up into her writhing, hot body.
She was greedy; she wanted all he had and more, and she wanted it immediately. Lorna slammed down upon him, rolling her pelvis so she could slip all of him into her, so she could come all the way down to the root. She gasped as he filled her, and rotated her trim little butt to grind him around inside her and across the clitoris.
"Oh, you muscular bastard," she moaned, hunching on him, riding his stick and squeezing his legs between her thighs. "Oh, you big, horny man-lay it to me, doll. Cram it in me until I scream-oh-oh, doll-oh yes, you've got it-you've got it. Screw me, screw me-screw me!"
His prick rocked inside her, slid tightly inside that hot velvet sheathing that tried to swallow him whole, that attempted to eat him up. He held to her hips and sucked away at her sweet nipple as Lorna caught handfuls of his hair and rocked madly upon his erect meat, gasping and hissing.
She came a split second before he did, and he fed his own spurting release into the contractions of her pussy, pumping it up that clenching dewy oven, digging his fingers cruelly into Lorna's cheeks and lunging up hard and brutally against her womb.
"Uuuuuhhhh!" she cried, and sagged forward, going limp and unresisting.
Rush's cock pulsed within her, still stiff and powerful. He stood up, holding her in his arms, holding her tightly to him with his penis buried in her. Carefully, he walked them over to the wide, white couch at the far end of the playroom, and lowered Lorna Allison slowly down upon her back.
He went with her, of course, keeping her pinned with his hard meat, holding her supinely in position for his next assault. Lorna's eyes were closed, shielded by metallic lashes.
Rush used one hand to rid himself of his pants, lifted from her upper body long enough to shed his shirt and teeshirt. Naked with her now, he began to stroke insistently into her.
Loma's breath came from her in little gusts, timed to the long, driving strokes of his rod. Her head rolled loosely upon her shoulders, but Rush didn't give a damn if she passed out. He was going to feed it to her good and solid; he was going to screw that lubricated box until he had enough of her.
Because Lorna Allison was all of them rolled into one-all the fancy girls, all the sweet young things, all the lush ripe ones he had avoided because he was going to be a champion some day.
And when that day came, he'd screw them all one by one, the blondes and the redheads and the ones with coal black hair furring their pussys. The rich women and the tender ones; the long and the short and the tall, because he'd given them all up so he could be something to deserve them.
Whatever the hell that meant.
Rush slipped it into her tightness, into that well trained slot where the goodies were kept, where all the sweet hotness and honeyed froth was stored. He stepped up his pace, rolling her up on her shoulders, getting her knees in the grip of both hands and spreading them wide to give himself room to hammer.
"Ah, you bastard," she sighed, eyes snapping open and staring into his. "Ah, I knew it, I knew it. You're a stud, a real, swinging stud. Do it to me, stud horse; do it to me!"
He closed her mouth with his, but it was a strain in that position, so he pulled back and concentrated upon jamming her full of his strong cock. He laid it up into her, pounding and slamming, and when she came, he didn't let her stop.
Selfishly he built to his climax, rolling her around on that brocade couch as if she was a doll, flipping her legs about and using them like handles to tighten and loosen her on his stroking prick.
The orgasm built up from his feet, raced up the backs of his legs and around inside his thighs, then leaped along his penis to hesitate one long moment inside his glans. Then it exploded outward and into her already wet vagina with a power that would not be denied.
In a little while, she slid her legs down his body and straightened them out beneath him. He rolled to one side, but she hung to him, clamping her thighs hard upon his cock to hold it, to keep it captive within herself.
"Wow," she said shakily. "You're a lot of man, doll. I know why the Chinese princess went for you, now. She doesn't usually, you know."
He'd forgotten Lei. Ever since he'd put his hands on this vest pocket Venus, he'd stopped remembering Lei. But now she came back, prodding at him, and Lorna saw her, too.
She said, "Lei will understand. I assure you she will. She and I-well, we have an arrangement. Later, I'll let her tell you about that. But she didn't tell me about you. She was greedy, keeping you all to herself."
He blinked. Lei and Lorna? Some kind of lesbian setup? No, he thought; both of them liked male sex too much. But maybe he was being naive. He'd been only an amateur at sex, and now he was learning just how much he didn't know. Well, it wouldn't be his fault if he wasn't a professional from now on, a real stud. He had a lot to catch up on, and no training regimen was going to hold him back now.
Sighing, Lorna eased him out of herself, pulling back with slow and gentle regret. "We'd better get dressed, doll. There really is a party of sorts here this morning. Not a lot of people, but some interesting ones-including our sweet Lei Ng. I'm sure you two will have much to say to each other."
She moved gracefully from the couch, her tight, modeled butt swaying voluptuously as she crossed the large room and went through a door beside the bar, scooping up her soiled white dress on the way.
Rush climbed off the couch and got into his own clothing. He went to the bar and poured himself a big shot, downing it with relish. He didn't quite understand his prowess as a lover, but he wasn't going to fret over it. All he knew was that he dug sex in a way he'd never known it before, and he thought he'd just keep on digging it, so long as his strength lasted.
He had another belt of good bourbon and puzzled for a moment over Lei and Lorna. Then he thought of the mast in the Shipwreck, and he was more confident about what it held. If the stuff had been found, he'd probably have heard about it in prison. Word like that had a way of getting around.
Now that he knew the owner of the club, as well as the star showgirl there, Rush Scanlon should have no trouble getting to all that treasure.
CHAPTER FOUR
Lei was in a corner with him, tucked into a small eddy of the party that had already washed onto the patio and around the pool.
"Rush," she said, "I hoped you wouldn't find out about Lorna. It's-she's difficult to explain. It's not just my job, or the blacklist she could put me on, but it's-well, other things. I-oh hell; I can't explain it to you, and I want to."
"You don't have to," he said. "I discovered how it is with Lorna. She's hard to say no to."
Lei chewed her lips and looked away. "We shouldn't let it matter between us." . "It won't."
"Fine," she said, "that's fine, baby. I have to go mingle, now. Hope I'll see you later."
"Yeah," he said, and watched her flow back into the party.
Only a few people, Loma had said, meaning about twenty guys and girls all sizes and all ages. Funny kind of party, he thought, just getting underway at two-thirty in the morning, when most parties were winding up. There were show girls and musicians and older men who looked jaded and worn; there were sweet young girls who looked as if they should be in bed, alone.
Rush went back to the bar and had a fresh drink. No need to worry about a soft gut and less wind; what the hell for? If by some freakish chance, there was no junk in the mast where he had so carefully sealed it years ago, he was up the creek anyhow.
Out on the patio, a woman yipped, and her squeal was followed by a splash. First in the pool, Rush thought and took his drink outside to see.
Some swimmers had on underwear; some had nothing. There were four couples in the water, sliding around nakedly and laughing it up, grabbing at each other and giggling. Rush stared; he'd never seen anything like it before, and he was getting another lesson in sexual freedom.
A hand touched his, and he looked around at the tiny girl who stood at his elbow. She had on a terrycloth robe and scuffs, and her bronze hair was held back with a white satin ribbon. She looked coppery, burnished; her eyes were dark blue and her mouth was a damp slice of orange. She seemed very young.
"Want to try the pool with me?" she asked. "It's heated, you know."
"Seems that way," he agreed. "Are you legal?"
She grinned up at him. "Everything is legal here. You're Rush Scanlon, aren't you?"
"Guilty, and you?"
"Jan. Are you going swimming or not? Look, if you're fidgety about stripping down in front of everybody, I'll hide you with my robe-"
She spread the robe wide and he sucked in his breath; she was naked beneath it, and she was no child. Jan was built like their hostess, like Lorna Allison-small, but exquisitely modeled. Rush thought she was even smaller than Lorna, and at least as perfect.
The whiskey was racing through his blood, and its tempo speeded at the sight of her erect nipples aiming at him, at the view of her coppery bush gleaming. The hell with it, he thought; if everyone else was going to play games, Rush Scanlon wouldn't be left out. Not this time; not ever again to sit in a corner while the rest of the world went playing by.
He stripped quickly, making a game of trying to stay within the confines of her spread robe, touching her often with hands and elbows and lifted knees, touching her gently and tenderly, but with rising excitement. It was like being surrounded by a feast, by delectable tidbits and exotic offerings, after being so long starved.
Vaguely, he heard the noises around them, the yells and splashing, the music turned high and blasting, the rattle of glasses. Dimly, he was aware of other people, of naked bodies sliding by them, of men and women nude, hairy, smooth. But the attention was concentrated upon the tiny, delicate girl who led him to the shallow end of the pool and slipped into the warm water beside him.
She wasted no time, but floated to him, the water making her skin slippery, tantalizing, as he moved his hands over it, as he cupped small, perfectly shaped breasts and fingered stiff little nipples. Her buttocks were dainty, beautifully modeled and he could almost cover them with the spread fingers of one hand. She seemed ethereal, fragile, but the seeking heat of her mouth was not fairy like; it was direct and hungry, and her tongue darted between his lips to stroke his own.
They drifted in the rippling water, her pubic hair pressing into his belly, his heels anchoring them into position so they wouldn't float away. Rush shut out all else, and his cock swelled in eagerness to know the slim, intriguing creature in his arms.
Jan's hand found his penis and moved up and down on it, stimulating him as he caressed her small, slippery mound, as he felt the marvelous wet velvet of her inner thighs, and the, little round buttocks flexing in pleasure.
He pulled her on top of him, probing for her secret opening, feeling for the hot place hidden in her pubic hair. She squirmed against his tool, slid up and down on it, but hunched back from his efforts.
"Wait," she breathed, "oh wait a little while, Rush. I want to taste you first; I want to take your thing in my mouth and show you how I can thrill you like that."
The liquor, the passion, roared through his brain, numbing him to anything else around them, to sight and sound and presences. He let her have her way, floating back to rest his head on the edge of the swimming pool. His body angled out, and the tiny bronze girl came in between his floating legs to cup his sack in her dainty hands, to lower her fragile rosebud mouth to his cock.
Easily, smoothly, she took it into her mouth, into the warming tickle of her mouth, and he would have thought it wouldn't fit, that she was too small for his big prick. But she wasn't, and she sucked, licking upon it, moving her head up and down, pulling and pumping while she held his buttocks, while she dug sharp little nails into his cheeks to make him lift stronger into her mouth.
Rust let to in her mouth, spasming and grinding his teeth in a blind ecstasy. Jan kept going, kept pulling upon his rod, but gender now, draining him slowly and surely of his semen, taking every droplet of it into herself.
Eyes closed, he floated for awhile, warmed and relaxed, loving and loved. Jan-little good fairy, little magic elf who wanted his cock for the fleshy maleness it was. She let him go and drifted beside him, hand caressing his belly, lips busy at the side of his throat, darting her tongue into his ear now and then.
An expert, this delicate girl who looked so very young, but who was old as sex itself. He opened his eyes and saw bronze hair loose in the water beside him, saw the tiny marble tips of her breasts laved by diamonding water.
Rush stroked her, felt over her cunningly designed body, and slipped a finger into the tight, tight opening he found deep inside her pubic hair. Jan was hot inside, and worked herself twisting upon his hand, still nibbling his ear and throat, and he caressed her clitoris, her cunt, sliding in and out, in and out until she gasped and stiffened out against him.
He needed the rest, and kept his finger in her, let her squirm and grind upon it. So much stuff; so much lovely and demanding sex, all around him. Had it been waiting for him all his monkish life? Had it been here all the time, while he sweated and got punched in the head and watched his belly, his weight, his wind?
What a sucker he had been. What a fool. Always looking forward to the things the title would make possible for him, the big money, the TV money, the tours. And sometime, when he had enough money, and when he was starting to slip a little, then he'd step out gracefully and enjoy all the things he'd put off for so long.
What was wrong with that? Everything. Like slaving his life away in the gyms and on the roads; like taking the gut shots and the hard hooks and coming back for more. Like being a damned hermit who didn't know as much about sex as a ten year old kid.
But he was learning now; he sure as all hell was learning, and he hoped it would be a long, long time until graduation. The title, the big money-who needed it? Look how he was doing without it, without either loot or glory. Three beautiful girls in a matter of days; more sex than he'd had in all his life, and certainly better sex, wilder and more uninhibited.
Jan wriggled on his hand, but she wanted more than that. She wanted his cock, that hard monster she was toying with again, and he was ready now to give it to her.
They changed positions. The girl slid under him, putting her head on the tile, spreading her slim legs for him to come between them. Rush braced his rod against her with one hand, using his other hand to hold her buttocks still, to keep them in place for his shove, his probing that sent him gently into her small, tight box.
He had to struggle to force her wide enough for his entry, had to wiggle and heave and push it into her, slow inch by slow inch. He had never been into a pussy that tight; it was as if she was virginal, but he knew darned well she couldn't possibly be. She was good, though; her vaginal walls squeezed him, rippled on his prick, sucked hungrily on his meat as it worked up inside her to the hilt.
Rush worked it back and forth, once he had it buried in her clenching box, and she loosened just enough to allow his strokes. Great; she was great; she was blazing hot and fist tight, and her sweet little buttocks clamped and unclamped with increasing fervor and fury.
Jan was a miniature screwing machine. She pumped on him, hunching and grinding, rolling her tight little butt and heaving her smooth belly. She laid it to him hot and heavy, moaning and gasping in pleasure, with the lascivious joy of riding his big, pulsing cock.
She shuddered and cried out, and her tight cunt clenched on his prick. He felt the flood of her release, the liquids of her love, and slammed a few more swift thrusts into her to reach his own orgasm He came savagely into her, pumping and pulsing, filling her little organ with the violence and abundance of his semen.
Water splashed around him, but he barely felt the waves of it. He clung to Jan's hips, to the trim little waist, and her legs caressed his lower rib cage. Her face was wet, her eyes closed. The tip of her tongue protruded between her lips.
He needed a drink. He glanced around him, still inside the girl, melting a little now, softening a bit. He saw a couple making love on the edge of the pool, the man atop the woman and pumping furiously, her legs waving in the air.
He saw another man going down on a woman, the man in the pool and the woman sitting wide-legged on the edge with her feet and legs in the water.
Rush needed the drink more than ever. He gently took his cock out of the girl's pussy and moved back from her, straightening in the water that came up to his belly button. Jan stirred and opened her eyes, smiling at him.
"That was wonderful, Rush. Will I see you later? Upstairs, maybe?"
He pulled himself out of the pool. "If I can make it."
Her smile grew wider. "Oh-you can make it. You're a strong man, Rush baby. You've got a staying power, and that's the greatest there is."
He left her drifting in the pool, coppery girl all shined and polished, sliding through the sparkling water like a sea nymph at home in her breeding grounds.
He went to the bar, deserted now by the barkeep, bottles piled carelessly behind it and among half filled glasses. Rush found the bourbon and drank, gulping, from the neck of the fifth, feeling the warmth of the stuff course into his belly to give him strength.
What a hell of a party. He glanced around, and saw three people tangled into a naked mass on the big white couch he'd used earlier with Lorna. The rest of the room was empty, and he recalled Jan saying something about upstairs, about rooms upstairs.
Some of the guests were making it in the pool, and some on the couch. The others had taken to more private beds. Suddenly he realized that it was almost dawn, and that he hadn't seen Lei since their talk earlier. Neither had he seen their hostess, the eager Lorna Allison.
Were they shacking up with somebody now, or were they making it with each other? Funny, but that idea didn't bother him as much as it would have, some years ago. There was plenty to go around, enough for everybody. A guy would be stupid to play jealous and probably spoil it all for himself. He had no kind of string on Lei, and she had none on him.
He could use her help, and would probably get it. If he didn't, there was always Lorna, the boss lady with all the money and the hot, hot pants. Rush didn't know just how he'd go about telling either of them that he needed to get to the Shipwreck bar when the club was closed. He didn't yet figure on telling either of them why.
Two hundred thousand dollars waiting there for him, maybe a shade more. The stuff was almost certain to be pure, uncut heroin, carefully weighed into kilos. It wouldn't rust or weaken, and it would buy Rush Scanlon, onetime hotshot middleweight, all the freedom and all the time to do things like he'd been doing lately.
He couldn't expect to move in a really wealthy set, but he wouldn't need to. Land and a house, clear of debt; money in the bank and some tucked away the feds wouldn't know about. Time to hunt and run a few cows and maybe some blooded horses, back in the mountains where nobody would bother him. A woman or two, maybe more; move them in and out as he damned well pleased. Screw all he wanted and when he wanted, with sexy chicks like Lei and Lorna and Jan.
This evening, he thought, and took another shot of bourbon from the bottle. His lips were turning numb and he thought he was getting high, maybe even stiff. This evening, he'd have to make some kind of move toward the stuff hidden in the boat mast.
Not that he wasn't getting along fine, just as things were going, but this sensual paradise couldn't last forever. Somebody would get tired of the games someone else played, and that would be that. So Rush Scanlon had to set up his annuity, because just getting the stuff wasn't enough. He still had to peddle it, and that meant laying himself open to some rough people.
Rush had one more, the nightcap, and thought he'd find a place to sleep it off. He made unsteadily for the stairs, and a small hand took his elbow. "Need a lift, Rush?"
Jan, looking hopelessly young and impossibly new. "Hey, Jan," he said to her. "You never told me your last name. If we're gonna' be all this intimate, we oughta be properly introduced, right?"
She grinned at him. "Thought you knew, since my mama brought you here. My name is Allison, darling-Jan Allison. Lorna is my sweet and understanding mother."
CHAPTER FIVE
When Rush woke up, he was on the edge of the bed, a big and satin sheeted kingsize bed. There was only a light throb behind his eyes, nothing that could be called a real hangover. Still, his mouth was dry and he had to find a bathroom; so he eased out of bed and padded silently across the carpeted room to the John and used it. Then he had two glasses of cold water from the tap and felt fine.
Damn! He tried to remember what had happened after Jan crawled in bed with him, but couldn't. He'd been about knocked out of his skull when she helped him up the stairs, but he recalled asking her last name, and what she'd told him-Allison, Jan Allison.
He'd had one hell of a day with the Allison family, laying the mother in the game room and the daughter in the pool, and playing a few variations with both of them. Rush washed his face and hands, found a new toothbrush in its clear wrapping, used it, and felt still better. Thinking about screwing both the Allisons turned him on again.
Rush didn't know where his clothes were. The terrycloth robe was on a chair beside the bed, and some cigaretts on the night table. He got one going, and wondered about coffee, then about a mother and daughter that were so hot, so casual about sex that they evidently didn't give a damn if one knew about the other.
He drew in smoke and shook his head; he'd sure been missing a lot, but there was nothing to keep him from making it all up now.
When he reached for the robe, his hand paused in midair. There were two heads on the other pillows-one a tumbled mass of golden curls, the other was long and burnished copper, a bronzed cascade of hair he remembered. Jan and Lorna, in the same bed with him?
The coppery head was nearest. It turned to him, and her blue eyes opened lazily, slowly, to focus on him. "Hi, man," Jan said. "You're up early."
He motioned across her, to where her mother lay beneath the satin sheet, the small, tidy body outlined by the clinging material. Jan turned to look, came back to him and grinned.
"Yeah," she said, "it's Lorna; only not like you're thinking, baby. Not yet, anyhow, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if it came off before breakfast. Hit the house phone button there, Rush-and you dig Bloody Marys, order three of them, okay?"
He found the phone and mumbled the order into it, then sat down on the side of the bed to finish his smoke, while Jan bounced bare-assed out of the sack and walked gracefully into the bathroom.
After the houseman brought a tray to the door, which Jan snaked out an arm for, Lorna woke up and took her turn in the John. It was all very casual, Rush thought, and sipped his eye opener, enjoying its crisp flavor and freshness. He eyed Lorna as she came back to the bed and reached for her drink. They were much alike, when seen together, Lorna and Jan; they were modelled along the same lines, small but trim and shapely, lithe and sensuous. Jan wasn't quite a younger edition of her mother, though-she had an individual way of moving, a personal look about her.
But there was an identical hungry, lascivious gleam in their eyes, and it drew him Rush felt a like a bug must feel, impaled on a researcher's pin, skewered through the middle and helpless, because he knew damned well he was going to do anything the girl and the woman wanted him to do.
There was a lot of time behind him, most of it wasted-time in the joint, time on the road, in the gym, in the ring itself; all the hermit time. Now Rush Scanlon had to make it up, live it up; no more being stupid.
"A lot of man, Lorna," Jan murmured. "A lot of stud. You have an eye for them"
Lorna smiled, her lips damply red. "And you have a letch for them. Well, dear-there's no better time, I suppose."
Lorna was on the opposite side of the bed, Jan on the edge with Rush. The girl slid to him, and the smooth curve of her thigh felt fine, all warm and sleek. She turned her face up to his, and her eyes said it plainly: do it to me, man.
Her mouth was sweet, fresh, young; her tongue darted into his lips, and his hands went involuntarily up to cup and fondle her shapely breasts, to thumb their rising tips and to know the satiny textured design of them.
Jan pulled at him, and he went down to the bed with her mouth locked to his, with her eager hands feeling over him, between his legs, on his cock, sliding up and down in his crotch.
Rush forgot that Lorna was watching avidly, forgot there was anything or anyone else in the world except this writhing, passionate girl with the humid pubic hair crisply against his palm, with the damp lips opening for his finger.
Her teeth raked his, and her tongue worked around inside his mouth while her breath blended gaspingly with his. He moved his finger into her clenching hotness, and was surprised again at the narrowness of her vagina, the tightness of it. Jan could screw forever and not loosen up.
They squirmed together on the satin sheet, moving around until they lay lengthwise on the bed, pressing tightly to each other, caressing and exploring. His rod throbbed, anxious to find that slot his finger was sliding in, eager to probe into that bronze hair and set into that hotly suctioning grip of her.
She rolled him over, so that he was in the middle of the bed, and her leg eased up on his hip. He felt her position his prick to her mound, knew the heat and dew of it, and then drove it home himself. It slipped into her, pushed into that tight, hot cleft and Jan wriggled to pull him deeper inside herself.
So narrow, so clinging; like silk and a pulling that held him firmly in her pulsing vagina. Good, she was, and hungry, grinding her pelvis like that on his, rolling her small, rounded haunches in his hands and flattening her tits to his chest.
He stroked her, thrust grindingly in and out of that marvelous box, and Jan met him stroke for stroke, kissing at his cheek, his throat, his collar bone.
Then he felt the other set of breasts against his back as he lay pumping upon his side; he felt the other warm belly tight to his rump, and the heat of another pussy on his skin. For a startled moment, Rush stopped screwing. He was held between them, knew the feel of four tits, of two mounds, and so many hands over him, on him, caressing and sliding. There were so many legs mixed up that they became a silken trap for him, but he never wanted to be free.
Jan moved on his meat, and he laid it up into her again, reveling in the sensation of the two women, in the abundance of warm and scented flesh, in the availability of so much tail. Slippery and tight, easy and strong, working into her and almost out, so that just the end of it stayed caught by her, then driving it firmly back home.
But she suddenly pulled away, snapped right off his cock, and he didn't know what the hell. Until she rolled him, pushed him the other way, and he turned over to come nicely against the rounded buttocks of Lorna Allison.
Lorna was ready for him, clutching with desperate eagerness at his cock, pulling it to her from between her thighs, pushing back against him and spreading her legs. She guided it to the place, and he rammed it to her from the back, grasping her sleek butt in his hands to drive it in solidly.
Lorna's slot was slightly different; it wasn't so virgin tight, but it wasn't loose, either. Hot and good, trained, hungry for his meat. He laid it into her, sliding one hand around over her squirming belly, down over her mound and finding the clit with one finger as his prick hunched in and out of her.
She moaned and began to ride him with a wild power that brought her swiftly to an orgasm; he felt her vagina tighten on him and hold it for a second, then let go and lubricate it with a juicy release that was hot and frothing.
Jan was against him from the back, rubbing her breasts into his shoulder blades, hunching against his rear, fondling his chest and belly. He didn't stay with Lorna then, but pulled out and turned over as Jan lifted her leg over him to take him into her eager cunt once more.
This time, he screwed her steadily until she came, and came again, gasping and clawing at him. He felt his own orgasm rising in him, and crammed the meat to her narrow slot, to that hotly clenching box lined with satins and silks and gobd-feeling liquids. He came, and her mouth latched to his to ride her tongue over his, to mix her panting breath with his in that ultimate fulfillment.
Lorna was against him from the rear again, her hands searching for and finding him where he was buried in Jan, and her lightly touching fingertips caressed them both as they lay quietly melting together.
It was as far out as Rush had ever been, and the whole thing kept him rigid, held him ready for more of the crazy mixup. He got to Lorna next, mounted her as she lay waiting upon her back with her hot bitch's eyes staring up into his, and her hot smooth thighs open for his entrance.
He pounded her good, stayed solidly with her in an almost vicious power as he got his second wind, and Lorna met him in a maddened response that turned him on stronger. But when she came, when he felt her constriction and release, he withdrew from her relaxed vagina and crawled over on top of Jan.
It was the damndest lay he'd ever had, the two of them spread like that for him, the pair of Allisons, mother and daughter, and he wished crazily that he was two men, so he could screw them both at the same time.
But he was only one man, and stirred so much by this weird newness that he could stay with them both for a long time. He did just that, on his second leg of the morning. Jan hit, and he pumped it hard to her until she came again and went limp beneath his driving body as her legs slid down off his sweaty back.
Rush pulled out of Jan and moved over to Lorna, who lay watching him. He fed it into her mound once more, and she met it with a wetted fury, with a lubricated violence that made him clench his hands roughly upon her heaving butt and try to screw her harder and meaner than she had ever been rammed before.
Loma made it, and ripped his back with her nails. He pinned her to the bounding mattress and stuck it to her deep and pounding, laid it to her until she kind of broke against his belly and turned softer, easier around his cock. Then he stepped up the pace and stiffened out from head to toe as he came, as he made it into her cunt and pooled his discharge with her creamy wetness.
"Man, man," Jan breathed in his ear, her soft hands going over his back, down over his flinching buttocks. "You are some far out stud. You are something else, Rush."
Suddenly tired then, he lifted from the woman sweat belly that rose and fell beneath him, took it out of Lorna and swung himself to the far side of the bed. He braced his bare feet on the thickly luxurious carpet and drew some deep breaths to settle himself. It had already been one hell of a day, and he hadn't even had breakfast yet.
The girl and the woman murmured things to each other, and while Lorna made the John again, Jan brought him a lighted cigarett, kissing him lightly on the mouth before giving it to him.
"Lover," she said, "we'll never let you go."
"Then you'll sure as hell have to feed me," he said.
She straightened up and grinned at him, totally unconcerned that she was naked. "Sure-rare steak and about three eggs over easy, hash browns and toast, juice and coffee. Sound okay?"
"Sounds perfect," he said. "Do I have time to shower? And Jan-I lost my clothes down by the pool last night. Maybe you can find them for me?"
She gave him another bright smile and covered herself with a white terrycloth robe before leaving the room. Loma came from the bathroom and he saw she had a matching robe; the pure whiteness of it set off her golden skin and the witchery of her eyes, the bruised ripeness of her lush small mouth.
"Well, Rush Scanlon?"
"Just call me lucky," he said.
"No scruples, no timidity?"
He shook his head. "Not any more. Anything you say, anything Jan wants."
"We'll hold you to that," she said. "Move in today; I can send a driver for your things, if you'll j tell me where-"
He laughed and stood up. Her eyes clung to his chest, slid approvingly over his hard, flat belly. He said, "Wait a minute, Lorna. It's a great idea, a fine idea. But I have a couple of things to do first. If Jan feeds me that big breakfast she promised, I'll do what I have to and come back soon as I can."
Lorna lifted a burnished eyebrow. "Lei Ng?"
He shrugged. "I have to tell her a thing or two! and pick up my suitcase."
He didn't mention the bar, the mast behind it, and the stuff that was still hidden inside it. That was for Rush Scanlon's annuity, and he didn't think there be any problem getting to it now. It was there for him, any time he wanted to collect it.
"You're not curious about Lei?" Lorna asked.
He shrugged again, sensing something but not knowing quite what. "She's a good kid, and a lot I of fun."
Lorna smiled and came close to him. "She's all of that. She's-cooperative, too. She left here about dawn, with a good looking man from San Francisco. He has a thing to do with liquor licenses, and a thing for Oriental girls."
Rush felt a twinge of jealousy. He kissed Lorna and then moved easily past her and into the I shower. "See you downstairs, baby."
He felt big as any heavyweight as he scrubbed and rinsed himself in the marble stall with the cold water cleaning his hide and making him draw up his belly muscles. It wouldn't take too long for a guy to get soft, at this kind of work, he thought-then laughed aloud around a mouthful of bubbles. What damned difference did it make?
Rush stepped from the shower and towelled vigorously, pinking his skin and skipping lightly on his toes in a pattern set into his reflexes by skipping rope. Then he came flat footed and grunted; no need for that, either. Except, if he was going to hold up under all this screwing, he'd better be in some kind of shape for it.
He thought of Lei Ng as he put on his robe and went down to the big kitchen for breakfast, and wondered why.
He ate hugely, and relaxed in the informal, kidding atmosphere. They were alone in the kitchen, just Rush and the two Allisons; it seemed the rest of the party had cleared out, or hadn't awakened yet. It was nice, being part of a family, even if the family itself was a bit weird.
Or was it his thinking? Had he locked himself too tightly into a square, moralistic outlook? It didn't really make any difference who screwed whom, or what kind of sharing went on, so long as nobody pushed anyone else around. And with the Allisons, nobody was pushing, nobody was bitching, so who the hell was Rush Scanlon to put them down for sharing a guy-especially since the guy was him?
His shirt and pants had been pressed, and he put them on after breakfast. Lorna told him to take any sports car in the garage, and he kissed her lightly before leaving for downtown; then he kissed Jan, and grinned at his hesitation, at the old hangups that were so difficult to kick.
In the garage, Rush stopped and looked around. The place looked like a big parking lot; there was a Rolls, a Bentley, a Ferrari, a Jag-Cad and Continental and a gang of small cars. Numbed, Rush picked an MG near the front doors and keyed the ignition. The engine purred softly, beautifully, but with the hint of latent power.
He drove the red MG out of the garage and along the winding drive, out through the big gates and onto the roadway that led in a few minutes to another set of gates where a uniformed deputy waved him through.
It was nice to be filthy rich, Rush thought, then laughed into the wind and tooled the bright little car along the ocean drive, taking the long way into the city.
He went to his room and took his clothes; not much to carry, but his personal effects helped fill the suitcase. He put that in the car and drove over to Lei's.
She wasn't home, and he was halfway glad about that. He hadn't wanted to walk in on her and the new boyfriend. Okay, so it was business between her and the guy. That didn't make Rush feel any better about it.
He pointed the little red car toward the wharf area, thinking sauce for the goose and all that jazz. He didn't have a damned thing to offer a girl; no career, no big money future, nothing. Except maybe that two hundred big ones, if he could pick it up and turn the stuff quickly and smoothly, with no problems.
That much stuff could sprout problems in a hurry, and he realized that. But he'd be cool and careful about it, play it slow and easy, so nobody would get hurt-especially Rush Scanlon.
Parking the MG in the city lot, he walked along the seawall to the wharf and turned in. The Shipwreck was open, and had already picked up a few passing tourists. Rush sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The barkeep's ugly face was familiar.
"Lei been in?" he asked the man.
The barkeep grunted and moved away to fill an order at the other end of the bar. When he came back by, Rush asked him again, politely.
"No," the man said.
Rush decided against trouble, finished his beer and left. The ship mast was still there, undisturbed.
CHAPTER SIX
Okay, he thought, parking the MG back in the Allison garage and nodding at the chauffer-mechanic. Okay, if Rush Scanlon was going to be kept for awhile, it might as well be top drawer. He was miffed a bit at missing Lei. She had been so easy to talk with, to be with, and the sex was only part of it.
He carried the suitcase in through the kitchen, and saw a cook who ignored him as she busied herself at an electronic stove. Passing through the living room, he saw no one, and for want of better directions, took his luggage up the stairs and into the room he had shared with Lorna and Jan.
In the bathroom, he ran his cordless razor over stubble and patted lotion onto his face. In the joint, no shaving lotion was allowed; too many guys would drink it.
It shouldn't be tough, getting to the mast of the wrecked Bianca. If Lei couldn't get him into the club after hours, he could volunteer to go for booze-maybe during one of Lorna's orgies, after seeing to it that the stuff ran out.
He opened his suitcase on the bed and took out his other pair of slacks, his other shirt and some clean underwear, and thought he'd have to do something about some new clothes. Maybe they went with the stud job here?
He'd just drawn on the new shorts when the woman's voice froze him into position, hands on his flat, hard belly, chest shoved out in a habitual breathing exercise.
"I like that," she said, stepping into the room.
"And you look like more than just pretty, you look efficient. Are you?"
"I used to be," he said. "Name's Rush Scanlon."
She was a striking looking woman, not too tall, but so leggy she made anyone think she was tall; willowy, slim and graceful. Her hair was worn hip-fashion, loosely down her back; it was a rich brown, like pale chocolate. Her eyes were hazel, shielded by long, curling lashes the color of her hair.
"I'm Cleo Ramsey," she said, her eyes licking over his body. "Nee Allison; I was stupid enough to get married."
Her breasts were high, small but proud, and her hips rolled slightly as she advanced upon him. A' full mouth smiled at him, but the gesture was more like a hungry grimace, he thought; the teeth were small and sharp.
"Hi, Cleo. I didn't know there were any other Allisons. I've already met your mother and sister."
"I'll just bet you have." She was almost touching him now, and he caught the musky scent of her perfume, her woman smell. "Lorna and Jan are out on the Bay. Now I'm glad I flew in early, Rush Scanlon."
She was so direct, so much the feline in heat, stalking him. But he wasn't a rabbit. He said, "Hell-I'm glad, too." And pulled her to him, not roughly, but so she would realize there'd be no nonsense, no teasing around.
Her mouth was mobile, warm, and her lips moved avidly over his as her tongue accepted the lance-thrust of his; her breasts snugged to his chest.
When she pressed her pelvis to him, he could feel the cushion of her pubic hair and the outline of her thighs. Her hands slid down the small of his back and cupped his buttocks; she slammed him savagely into her body and ground her crotch violently across his.
Rush found the zipper in her dress and whipped it down. Cleo shook her hips and the dress puddled about her feet. She wore no bra, no panties, and she kicked her dress away. But when he would have picked her up and carried her bodily to the bed, she resisted him.
And dropped to her knees before him, sliding his body while she clasped him about the buttocks, then the upper thighs. Her naked breast passed down his belly, then over his rod, and she was kissing his upper chest, his belly, and running her tongue into his navel.
Cleo was murmuring endearments into his flesh and licking his skin, while her fingernails moved up and down his thighs, over and around his buttocks. He spread his feet and stood solidly for her, taking her long, golden brown hair into his hands and rubbing it across his trembling belly as she at last took the head of his staff into her lips.
Tenderly then, all the violence gone from her, Cleo tasted of him, found his flavors with her tongue, with the inside of her mouth and just the slightest caress of her teeth. He moved slightly, stroked gently into her mouth and she took him deeper, deeper, suctioning upon him now.
She loved it, he thought, craved it in her head as other women yearned for it in their cunts. She pulled on it and rolled it, and as he stroked steadier, deeper into her mouth, Rush could feel the clinging velvet of her throat.
Cleo held to his legs, pressing her breasts against his knees, swinging them back and forth across his knees, one at a time because now his feet were planted far apart.
And he clung to her hair, to her head, bracing it for the driving rod he was feeding into it and out, into it and out. Man! The pressure was terrific and the suction was bringing him swiftly to a release. The good feeling raced up his legs, swelled along the insides of his thighs, then moved on to his scrotum, to his pelvis, and he gasped as it made his cone leap.
She knew he was coming, and held even more tightly to him, refusing to let him back it out of her frantic mouth, her fevered lips and tongue. He let it go, reached far back into her throat and let it spurt freely, powerfully. His knees went weak and his buttocks clenched, and he held to her head for support, for the ecstasy she was still bringing him as she drained him of every droplet, of all his power and all his maleness.
When she had it all, she took her mouth away and came back up his belly to his chest, nipping and licking, and rose slimly to her feet to press against him, to fit her mobile, still hungry mouth to his and urge him with gentle nudges backward toward the big, inviting bed.
He couldn't mount her right away, and he owed her something. When they reached the bed, he put her gently upon her back and crawled over her, but only to kiss the delightfully rigid nipples on her small, lovely tits, to suck them slowly and with a lingering pleasure. Cleo's body writhed beneath his, and her hands were never still; they raced over his flesh, found his half-limp cock and clung to it for awhile, until he worked on down her silken belly.
He moved on into her nest, probing with his tongue, knowing he was good at this now, plunging between the humid lips, reaching first into the passageway and passing over the shuddering walls. She heaved up at him, her lithe body snaking from side to side, but with her pelvis lifted to him, her slender thighs spread wide for him.
Her clit was long, nubbled and nearly rigid; he tongued over and around it, and pulled it into his mouth to bite gently, to suction first lightly upon it, then with more power and more strength.
"Ooh!" Cleo gasped. "Oh, man-how you can do it! Go, darling-oh yes, like that-just like that. Oh, you're killing me-"
Her thighs clamped around his head and her legs swung up to cross over his shoulders. Her pelvis heaved and bucked on his mouth, and she gyrated lasciviously there, wiping the wealth of her pubic hairs across his chin and cheeks.
Rush stayed with her, feeling his cock lifting, coming back to life. When she hit an orgasm, he did not let her go, but continued to pull upon that shivering clitoris, to let it go only so he could lave her passage for a moment, then to come quickly back and nip that long nub into new spasms of ecstasy.
She was sweating and arching her back; turning damp down the insides of her clenching and unclenching thighs, but she hung with him, hitting two more bucking releases before she suddenly went limp and passive.
Rush wiped his mouth on her belly, and nuzzled back up to eat tenderly of her nipples again, all the while his hands were setting those sleek hips into position beneath him. He got the head of his rod against her damp cleft and with one driving thrust, buried the entire length of it into her.
She flinched; he felt a ripple contract the walls of her pussy, and shoved that tiny bit farther up inside her body, so that her vagina locked him in like an oiled satin glove.
Then Rush laid it to her, slipped it strongly and deeply into that clinging passage, and still Cleo Allison lay there as if she'd dropped dead. But he knew better than that, for he could feel life stirring within her cunt, and slowly, sweetly, the motion, the aliveness, spread down from her womb, out across her haunches and her belly and her pelvis.
Cleo started to screw him back.
Hesitantly at first, with a sort of fluttering motion, an off rhythm beat that threw him off stride; then she picked up the swing of it, came vibrantly awake and twisting upon his staff, on the pistoning strokes of him.
With a flip" of her sleek ass, a gyrating motion of her mound, she was with him and of him, meeting him with an arching of her back and a strong hiking of her belly. Cleo had inherited her mother's lust, her mother's adeptness at making love. But she was different, as Jan was different, yet somehow of that racy blood, that blaze of breeding.
She was great; she stayed with him, mounting to a nicely graduated pitch of concentration that turned into a controlled frenzy. Rush poured it to her then, pulled out all the stops and hammered his prick into her as if there was only one thing in all the universe, and the secret lay deeply within her vagina.
"Ahh, you beautiful bastard!" Her breath pumped hotly at his ear, and her arms were beside his body, supine except for the hands that had found his buttocks again, and were hooked into the cheeks.
"I'm coming!" she called out. "Ah, I'm coming!"
Cleo shuddered, and the inner sheathing of her pussy spasmed; her entire body stiffened out beneath him as he continued to drive it up her, and just as she started to collapse, just at the very moment she began to sag, Rush stabbed her deep and mean.
He fired his own load, pinned her helplessly to the bed and pulsed it into her trembling slot. His weight held her, and his rod impaled her. Cleo crumbled under him, fell slowly and gently apart beneath him, dissolved around his stilled piston and oiled it generously with her juices, with the attars of her being.
By the time she was able to move, to struggle from under him, his rod had softened, and he allowed it to slip out of her without a contest. Rush rolled off her, rolled over onto his back and breathed deeply, with great contentment. Lorna and Jan, and now Cleo; he had screwed his way through the Allison family, and found them all jewels of passion. If there were any more Allison girls, he'd be happy to meet them.
"Wow," she murmured. "You're a lot of hombre, Rush Scanlon. My husband should only be so good."
"Your husband is a lucky man," he said.
She found cigaretts on the night table and lighted two. Drawing on hers, she said: "Thanks for that, but dear Kemp doesn't think so. He's too interested in a boy; a fag, dammit."
Rush was silent, lying there smoking. Cleo lifted herself on one elbow and said: "He's not really queer-Kemp, I mean; he just plays both sides of the street."
"But you don't like it?"
"Not like that. If he just dug other women-and he does-it would be okay with me. I mean, I play around, too, and that doesn't get me up tight. But fags do. Dammit, I don't like getting aced out by a lousy swish."
Rush blew smoke at the ceiling. "People will have names for me, too-like gigolo, or kept boy, or pimp, or whatever."
"I like stud," Cleo said. "What the hell; it's honest."
He liked Cleo, and grinned at her. "More or less. It's also temporary, and I understand that."
She smiled back. "I hope you last a long, long time, mister. Meanwhile, what would you say to a late lunch, or early dinner, whichever?"
He went with her to the now deserted kitchen. It seemed that Lorna Allison liked her help to be out of the house before the games started. There was a steam table along one wall, and Cleo led him there. There was a plentitude of goodies for them, and they both piled their plates with a variety of meats and vegetables and seasoned rices.
They ate, and Cleo told him Lorna and Jan ought to be back soon, that the sailing on the Bay had been a spur of the moment thing, and Jan's idea. "They don't expect me this weekend," she continued. "But it won't shake them any to see me. This time, I might just stay. I mean-Kemp and his damned fairy love. It's too much."
Rush kept eating, and topped off the good meal with coffee, pouring a cup for Cleo also, as she mused about husbands and fags. She had a good face, he thought, an open and interesting face. She had a hell of a sex drive, too; he doubted if any one man could keep her content. That probably went for her mother and sister, too. A powerhouse family, the Allisons, and the money backed them up, made it easy for them to do just about anything they wanted.
Rush Scanlon might be able to do a lot, with just the two hundred big ones, the gravy from the heroin. It would be good to see how far that would go. It wouldn't be spent on big cars and booze, but on more substantial things; like a ranch up in the mountains to the north, where nobody would bug him, ever.
Cleo shifted in her chair, and he looked at her again. She really had a pair of legs, so long and lithe, and her thighs were beautiful, exposed the way they were by her robe falling back. His own terrycloth robe bulked on him, and he was barefoot, rubbing his toes into the kitchen rug. Carpets in the kitchen, yet.
Cleo snapped her fingers. "Yeah, Scanlon. Of course! I don't know why I didn't pick up on your name when you first said it, but you're that Rush Scanlon-the fighter. Oh man, I used to get all hot and bothered just watching you in the ring."
He felt funny, that anyone would remember him. He said, "You have to be a real fight bug. That was awhile back."
"Not so long. Hey-why'd you stop fighting and-oh, oh yeah, I remember that trial bit, too. They socked it to you, Rush."
"Two years," he said. "I did every damned minute of it in Soledad, the hard way-counting the seconds. So much for the title and everything that goes with it."
"I'm sorry, Rush."
"I'm sorry, too. More coffee?"
They were sipping coffee quietly together when a car pulled up behind the house, and he thought, Lorna, Jan; then he wondered just what the hell he could do with a third woman. The idea excited him, because that kingsize bed could hold them all, and wouldn't that be a real last, Lorna and her two girls?
The back door opened and he turned his head lazily in that direction. It wasn't Lorna and it wasn't Jan.
"How about that?" the big, handsome guy asked. "Told you she'd run straight to mama. Only mama isn't here and she's showing her ass to this character."
The fag hipped on by and picked up a fork to explore things on the steam table. His hair was long and he wore false lashes, and his pants were skin tight. "Oh doll," he said, "don't bother with her; she's such a bitch."
Cleo said, "Kemp, you bastard. Let me alone."
The big man grunted. "I'm not bothering you, sweetheart. The weekend will be more fun with your mother, and possibly your little sister. They're not so square."
"Cubist, doll," the fag said.
"Besides," Kemp said, "you have a character here, Cleo. Not too cute, and kind of small, but a character."
Rush set his feet in the carpet. It was a little like bracing on the stool in the corner, looking across the ring and waiting for that first bell. But the situation was different here. Cleo reached the table and put a hand on his arm.
"Don't, Rush. Please don't."
"My, my," said the fag, from the far end of the steam table.
Kemp Ramsey laughed. It was a big, confident laugh, to match the man, and Rush gauged him, looked him over for fist tracks around the eyes, or the puffiness of lips that told of scarred over cuts inside. He didn't find anything, nor did he see an off center nose, or a folded over ear.
Besides, the big man was heavy around the gut, and walked wrong, kind of leaning back off balance. One good, solid shot would knock him flat on his big, confident ass.
"Hello, dear," the fag said, insinuating himself between them, putting his filled plate down on the table. "Nobody ever introduces me; I'm Giles Griffith, and if I eat all this, my figure will just be shot."
Rush grinned and broke the tension within himself. The big slob could wait, but he probably wouldn't. Kemp would no doubt push it some more, lean some more, and sooner or later Rush might have to take him apart-but carefully, carefully. Soledad prison wasn't all that far up the highway.
The kitchen door slammed open and Lorna bounced in, followed by a windswept Jan. They yelled things at Cleo and Kemp, and Lorna even kissed the fag on the cheek, but Jan came straight to Rush. She sat on his knee and kissed him hard.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kemp strode across the kitchen and poured himself a big belt of scotch from a reserve bar tucked against the wall, under the buzzer board. Rush watched him toss down the drink, watched him over Jan's shoulder as the girl snuggled to him.
"What do you know?" Kemp said, mostly to Lorna, who stood watching him also. "The character has the kid locked up, too. He has gotten into all of you, hasn't he, Lorna? Well, hell-he's only one up on me, at that."
Lorna said, "You're drunk, Kemp-and uninvited."
"I don't have to be invited. I'm one of the family, remember? That's my wife there, showing her ass to the character." Kemp walked back to the table, but it wasn't Cleo he touched. It was Jan.
He reached down and put a hand on her butt. "I'll get a little of that."
Jan flared at him: "The hell you will!"
The fag said, "Oh come on, Kemp; you know I'm not the jealous type."
Kemp got a good grip on Jan's cheek, the cheek of her ass shown so well by her jeans. He shut down on it and lifted her off Rush's lap; she let out a small scream, then bit down on it, trying furiously to pull away from him.
Rush stood up and glanced at Lorna. "Enough?"
"Damned right!" she said. "More than enough."
Smirking, Kemp shoved Jan away and started a clumsy, big fist at Rush, a high, overhand right. Rush slid under it and hooked a winging left into the big man's belly. Then he pivoted his feet and brought up a tight right chop that caught Kemp under the chin.
The fag screamed. Kemp let out a whoosh! of air and tried to wrap his flailing arms around Rush. Rush stepped out and struck the big bastard twice in the right eyes, and the second stiff jab brought blood.
Kemp staggered back, grunting and still trying to suck for air. Rush moved left and hooked him hard alongside the head, then fired the right as the big man stood hurt and stiff. The right caught him good, just below the mouth and slightly left of it. Kemp fell like a redwood tree suddenly sawed off at the stump.
The fag hit Rush on the head with something-a coffee cup, or a plate. Rush spun and dug both hands to the slender belly, whipping the punches in with his weight behind them. He didn't have to hit Giles Griffith again; the fairy fell over the body shots and lay shuddering on the floor.
It was quiet until Cleo Allison said, "No use starting the count; neither one of them will make it."
Lorna put a hand on Rush's arm. "I-thank you, Rush. Kemp can be nasty. Nobody has been able to handle him before now."
Jan grinned down at the men on the carpet, then up at Rush. "He never met Rush before. Oh, beautiful, beautiful!"
"My pleasure," Rush said, and wiggled the fingers of both hands, spread them and made fists again. The hands were still good, solid, not at all brittle. His hands were in great shape, now that it was too damned late to do anything with them, except maybe rap big, clumsy slobs and slender queers.
In a moment or two, Kemp sat up, shaking his head and patting ineffectually at the thin ribbon of blood from his slashed eyebrow. Giles sat up, too, and began to cry.
"Oh hell," Lorna said, and took Rush's elbow. "Come on; the girls can handle them now, get them out of here. Kemp won't be any more trouble. I'll buy you a drink in the playroom."
She'd just tilted a bottle of bourbon over a glass when the phone rang, and she picked up an extension from the bar top. "Yes. Oh yes, dear. Just a moment." She handed the phone to Rush. "It's for you."
He took it. "Hello? Lei? Sure, sure-"
Her voice sounded small, contrite, but the throatiness was in it, the good level tone that was something special. She told him she'd left the party with a guy, and he said he knew. Lei hesitated, then went on to say it was something she almost had to do, and she hoped he'd understand.
"I'll be back at work tonight," she said. "Will I see you there? I mean, if you aren't committed to something for Lorna Allison."
He looked at Lorna and she handed him his highball, smiling. "It'll be late," he said into the phone.
"Okay," Lei answered. "See you, Rush."
"See you," he agreed, and replaced the phone. Loma said, "She's a sweet girl."
"You don't care?"
"Of course not. Everyone's life is his own-mine, yours, the girls, Lei-everyone. Kemp Ramsey can't understand that; he wants to lay anybody he gets a yen for, but he doesn't want to grant that same privilege to Cleo. I think I'll have to do something about Kemp."
Rush eyed her over the rim of his glass. Small, golden woman, but with steel in her, and a power born of money, a lot of money.
"I'll have to go out," Lorna said. "I'll clean up and see to some things, business. I'd appreciate it if you'd stay with the girl until Kemp is gone."
"Sure," Rush said.
She kissed him tenderly on the mouth, and hurried out of the playroom. Rush thought she'd have things to say to people, things to arrange, and he understood a little bit of Lei's awe of Lorna Allison. Kemp may have had it, and it couldn't happen to a better slob.
"Fun time, fun time!" It was Jan, skipping into the room like a schoolgirl, holding a more reluctant Cleo by the hand. "Mom off to see the wizards?"
"Something like that," Rush said. "How about the fighters?"
Jan giggled. "Oh, they helped each other a bit. Kemp swore at us-me especially-and threatened to get even with you. He said we set him up for the beating, that you must have used a blackjack-oh, he was funny."
"Not that funny," Cleo said. "Kemp is vicious; he'll try to get even. Lorna may not be able to stop that."
Rush shrugged. "I'm a big boy now. Anybody else for a drink?"
"I'll mix," Cleo said. "I need something."
"Me, too," Jan said, "but I swing on something else. Like Rush here. Of course, I'll have a little blast of gin to help things along."
She meant it. Rush saw the excitement in Jan's eyes, the eagerness that some women get from seeing violence. The short brawl she'd witnessed had given an added fillip to her already sensuous personality, and now she was ready to make love They all had a drink, and another one, and Jan pushed a switch that activated a hidden hi fi; the music was primitive, a drumbeat rhythm, a cymbal and flutes background that was voluptuous, insistent.
Jan peeled out of her jeans and sweatshirt, and once more Rush was immediately drawn to the bronzed perfection of her, the little girl look that was at once all female, too. Her breasts stood high and proud, the little nipples stiff.
"You've grown up," Cleo said from behind the bar.
"Just enough," Jan said, and began to swing her sleek hips from side to side in time with the throbbing music; light gleamed from her smooth belly, from her thighs, and from the bronzed curls of the pubic hair clustered over her mound.
"Hey, Rush-you dig this music?"
He smiled at her, and felt the rising of his staff beneath the terrycloth robe. "I dig you, Jan."
"Show me, man. Cleo won't mind waiting."
Rush drained his glass and stood up, dropping the robe off his shoulders and letting it drape over the bar stool. It was a natural thing for him now, an easy approach, and not only didn't he care that the girl's sister was watching them, but he welcomed the on-looking.
Jan moved sinuously to him, her small body rhythmic and graceful, her mouth opened redly for him and her arms reaching to him. She came against him softly, warmly, and the feel of her was again new, a tiny flaming, a sweet eagerness; her nipples bored low into his chest, and her pubic hair caressed his thigh.
"Pick me up," she suggested, and he did just that, lifting her by the tiny waist, off the carpet and tightly to him so that he could kiss her.
Jan put her legs around his hips and clung to him that way, her mouth hotly demanding, her tongue slipping in and out of his lips with a tremulous searching. Her nipples were now crushed into his chest, and her mound rubbed his belly, wetly appealing.
Locked to his mouth, Jan reached one arm down and around, and took hold of his stiff rod. Holding to his neck with the other hand to support her weight better, she maneuvered her trim ass until she managed to get the head of his staff inserted into her slot. Sighing then, she slid down upon it until it was stuck full length into her tight, narrow vagina.
It was a wild way to screw, Rush thought, and carried the girl the few steps to a wall. He pushed her shoulders against it as a brace, and began to stroke into her while Jan wiggled and turned on his rod.
No matter how often he laid her, it was always like a first time, always like getting into a cherry, but not quite. There was no real struggle, nothing to distract from the joy of screwing her, no membrane to battle through. But the tightness was there, the squeeze upon his swollen prick, the clenching of her vaginal walls upon it.
He pumped it slowly to her, and she writhed on the long thrusts, with her legs locked around his waist, with both hands clinging now to his shoulders. Up and down, she rode him, and made the little, swinging side motions that gave him such kicks. Her tits raked softly back and forth across his chest, and Jan sought his mouth, to dart her tongue into it, in imitation and timing of the moves his rod was making inside her pussy.
Suddenly, Cleo was there with them, her hazel eyes gleaming, that wet, avid look on her mouth. She had stripped, and her sweetly slender body pressed lightly to both of theirs from the side. Her hands went below their joining, and found his scrotum, the root of him, holding there while Jan slid up and down on the length of it.
It was wild and crazy and good. Rush turned his head and Cleo fastened her mouth to his, while he pumped it faster into the younger sister, while the wild, crazy feelings shot up his legs to his belly and came tearing out through the head of his rod.
Jan came a heartbeat behind him, shutting down hard on his tool as she turned hotter and slicker inside, and the silken undersides of her thighs quivered around his waist.
"Ahhh," Cleo said into his teeth, as if she had also felt the orgasm of them both, and her hands continued to gently fondle him and the girl.
He backed her away from the wall, stepped carefully with her to one of the big couches that were spotted about the play room, and by bending his knees, lowered her and himself to it.
Jan tried to hold to him, to make him stay within her tight box, but he needed a break, and besides, there was Cleo waiting. He pulled out of her and she sighed, then brought her thighs together as if to assauge a loneliness now inside her, where his cock had been.
He lay back on the couch and Cleo brought him a drink. He drained it gratefully and accepted a cigarette she held ready for him. Relaxing, he watched the smoke drift, blue above him, and listened to the girls talk.
"Yes, you've really grown up," Cleo was saying. "When did you start, dear? Not before I was married?"
"No," Jan said. "Just after. There were these two boys at school-"
"Two boys?" Cleo laughed. "You were always a little greedy."
"I had to practically force them into it, as it was. All the tumblings and clumsiness; they'd have never done it one at a time; I mean, boys are always brave when there's another boy to be brave in front of."
Rush nodded to himself, and Cleo said something about being careful, and Jan came back with the pill and seeing that her lovers were clean, and all that. Rush closed his eyes for a minute, not hearing the words any more, only the rising and falling tidal waves of the sounds, the light girlish voice of Jan, the older, throatier voice of her sister.
Not a single con in the joint would believe this; it was in line with the lonesome, erotic dreams they all had, but they wouldn't believe it had all come true for Rush Scanlon. He'd made the fantasies turn real, and known the sharp pleasure of them, the matchless intimacy of carnal love, all of it made double by doubling upon itself.
First with Lorna and Jan; now with Jan and Cleo. Or soon there would be Cleo. She was touching him lightly upon the belly, drawing her fingernails teasingly across his skin and down into his pubic hair, stimulating him, slowly reawakening his sex drive.
This time, Jan brought him a highball, and he drank it slower than his first one, savoring the flavor as well as its effect, his body warm and good. Cleo kissed his throat as he sipped, and licked tantalizingly down his chest, moving from nipple to nipple to feed on each for awhile. Rush finished his drink and put down the glass just as Jan crawled down beside him.
She helped Cleo work on him, kissed him and nipped him, used her small, knowing hands to fondle him and tease him.
Man! It was like being caught in a small whirlwind, like being caught between two delicious traps he couldn't break away from, even if he'd wanted to. And Rush sure as hell didn't want to. He lay back and enjoyed.
Cleo got her mouth on it then, and worked it tenderly, rolling the softness of it around between her teeth, curling her tongue over and around its head, making it glow, bringing it ever more erect, ever more ready.
Her long brown hair fell over his thighs as her head worked up and down, and the wondrous suction built upon him. His cock stiffened, swelled, turned hard once more, and he was ready for action again. But not her kind of beginning action, not another complete blow job that would drain him of energy and leave him too flat to do anything but sleep it off.
He forced her head away with his hands and knew with a quick lift of raw desire, what he wanted to do to them, to both of them.
"Roll over," he said to Jan, who still lay squirming beside him. "On your knees, baby-that's right; yeah-that's right."
"Hey," she said over her shoulder as she posed there, "like bow-wow?"
"You, too," he told Cleo, and she moved eagerly, obediently, to take her position beside Jan.
They looked great together; they looked nothing short of wonderful, and a thrill shot through him as he stared at their shapely rears, one bronze and one with the tufted brown hair.
He crawled up onto the wide couch behind them, and stroked their buttocks, feeling the texture of their skin and the warmth of their flesh, feeling the delicate insides of their thighs and the humid hair of their mounds.
Cleo moaned and swung her tail in slow, hungry arcs; Jan swayed there on hands and knees, little ripples of desire running over her flesh. They were ready, and so was he. Rush moved forward to Cleo, and mounted her from the back, his rod slipping easily into her cunt, sliding nicely into her body as she gasped and wriggled on its length.
Holding to her haunches, he hunched slowly to her, reveling in the caress of her cheeks, the swing of his scrotum against her. Cleo backed to him, primitive and animal, and he pumped it to her firmly, solidly, with long, impaling strokes.
She'd been heated for a long time, stirred by the action between him and Jan, and she came quickly, cresting with a little shiver of passionate pleasure and a clenching of her haunches. Rush pulled out of her and moved quickly to Jan.
He set it against her, guided it by hand up between her sleek thighs from behind, and found the hotly damp lips. Jan hunched violently back to him then, and drove his cock up into her pussy with one wild movement, packing it tightly inside her sheath and clenching him there. Tight; she was always so tight and hot.
He worked it in and out of her, withdrawing to the head, only to pause there and drive it back inside, as she met him with a backward, desperate lunge.
Rush pounded her then, rammed her good, hammered at her vagina until he felt the flutter inside, the involuntary clamping down of her sphincter muscle as she came.
"Ooh!" she moaned. "Oh, you beautiful bastard! Oh, you lovely stud."
Rush backed out of her and climbed back on Cleo, finding that damp slot swiftly, burying his meat into her and fondling her slim buttocks, then bending over her arched body as he sank it home, so he could reach both hands around and play gently with her dangling tits.
Then he found himself using her pendulum breasts for handholds, for grips as he stroked her faster and faster, rising feverishly toward his own climax, toward the delayed orgasm he had held back so he could let it go inside Cleo.
He came, grunting and heaving, and Cleo cried out a second later, shuddering and bucking beneath him, as if he had touched a magic button buried in her womb. She flooded him with a honeyed hotness, with a bubbling goodness that glued him to her, inside her, and he shook with the fierceness of his release.
They panted together, and Jan ran her little hands over them both, rose to her knees to kiss Rush's cheek and Cleo's back. When he backed lingeringly out of Cleo, Jan took him by the staff and held him tenderly for awhile, then allowed him to sit back and stretch his legs.
They separated for showers by the pool, and Jan turned on the underwater lights so they could see each others' bodies as they swam awhile. It was beautiful Rush thought, gliding through the cool, sparkling waters, this end of the pool pink, that end yellow, their bodies beautiful in the symmetry of motion, floating without effort in the changing colors that changed them.
And in time, he climbed from the pale ruby waters, from the golden diamond waters, to dry himself with a deep-fluff towel and wrap his pampered body into a clean terrycloth robe. He thought that a robe would be about all the clothing he'd ever need around this house, just a temporary cover that he could shed quickly when the need arose. And the need arose pretty damned often.
He watched the girls climb lovely from the pool, dripping from the adoring water, and stretched himself like a big, contented cat; he'd purr if he knew how, but since he didn't, Rush made a relaxed yawn do.
They snacked in the kitchen. Cleo made sandwiches while Jan brewed coffee and put together chocolate milk for herself. The steak sandwiches were great, and he said so to Cleo between bites. He drank half a pot of coffee and shared a slab of cake with Jan.
It was amazing how young and sweet they both looked, their skins clear and their eyes bright, fresh from the pool and tucked adorably into snug swim robes, their bare feet peeping.
But what the hell; because they both enjoyed a good lay, a good blow, did that mean they were supposed to turn into hags? Not this pair, and look at their mother: Lorna was almost as youthful appearing as either of her girls. Correction, Rush thought: one girl and one married woman.
No doubt Cleo was soon to be unmarried, though. Then her big mistake could go on playing around with his queen. Rush shook his head over his final cup of coffee, his last crumb of angel food cake; far out sex was okay, but he couldn't see Kemp putting down a piece like Cleo and a connection with Lorna, for some hang up with the swish.
"Penny," Jan said.
He blinked at her. "I'm thinking how full I am, and how great you girls are. The guys wouldn't believe it if-"
He stopped, but Cleo said, "The guys? The guys where?"
Rush found a cigarette and Jan held a tiny lighter to it. He pulled in smoke and blew it out again. "In Soledad prison, Cleo. You were talking earlier about the judge socking it to me, and I told you how long. Jan might as well know, too. I did that time alone and lonely, for beating hell out of three guys. Only the jury didn't believe there were three; they thought there was only one, and because I was a professional fighter, they burned me good.
"I was lonely in the joint-in jail-because I couldn't play games with the queens there, the fags like your husband's friend. I waited and suffered, and damned if it wasn't all worth it, because here you two are, and the cons wouldn't believe you even if they saw you. You're that wonderful."
Cleo said, "That's nice, Rush."
Jan said, "It sure is. I feel like somebody special."
"You are," Rush said. "Both of you are special somebodies, and I'm grateful for you."
He stood up and stretched again, feeling just a shade logey from the food, an edge tired from all the action with the girls.
"Beddy-bye?" grinned Jan.
"Nope; have to go into town again. I may not be back until late. Okay if I use the MG again?"
Cleo eyed him. "The man has a date. Would you dig that? A date, after the workout we've given him. Sure, take the MG; just make sure you can drive it all the way back home, after your date. You're an amazing man, Rush Scanlon."
He smiled. "I had a few years to make up. I'd better get dressed; the fuzz might frown on bathrobes in town."
His one sport jacket was tight across the shoulders, but it didn't matter, since he didn't button it anywhere, even though the peninsula nights were chilled by wind off the Bay. Rush wondered what it would be like to just sail out across all that dark water, just keep going until he landed in Hawaii, or Japan, or maybe even Korea.
A guy would need money for that, a lot of bread. There was a lot of it waiting in the Shipwreck Club for him, but the stuff secreted in that old mast had to be turned, first. That might take connections, but there were a couple of cons in the joint who'd furnish those for him.
He drove the purring little car across the peninsula, aimed it loosely for the wharf area, for the city parking lot there, and watched the light traffic as he thought about that angle. It was easy to get a message inside the joint, and just as easy for one to kite out. But once that started, he'd have to go through with the deal in a hurry, protecting the stuff and himself, because there were people in that business who'd burn him in a second over so much stuff.
No gun; he wouldn't have a gun on him. That wasn't his bag and one might get him hurt. He'd have to play it by ear, figure the angles as they came up. Once he had the cash, he'd flee this town and head north where the winds were clean and the mountains high.
Parking the red MG in the lot, he climbed out, locked it, and walked along the seawall for the second time that day. Lei would be at the club this time, and it was funny how that thought gave him a lift. With so many plush, ripe chicks handy for him, why should one sexy stripper turn him on so much?
Rush didn't know the answer to that. He walked on to the club and found a seat at the far end of the bar, blinking at the smoke and noise. The barkeep was a different man, and brought Rush's beer quickly. He sipped it and looked around the crowded club; Lorna wasn't there, although he'd thought she just might be. He didn't see any familiar faces.
It looked as good as Lei did, when the emcee called her name.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was three in the morning, and they we having scrambled eggs in Lei's apartment. H showgirl makeup was washed away, and her long, thick hair was tied back by a simple red ribbon.
Lei Ng didn't look like a stripper just then, but more like a young girl, country clean and country fresh. Or a wife, but with an exotic slant to her eyes, an Oriental planing of her cheeks, and a richness to her full mouth. How many men had wives like that?
"See, baby," she said. "I don't burn the eggs, either."
It was weird, how she grabbed onto his thoughts. "Meaning you'd make a good wife?"
Lei looked down into her plate. "Something like that. But don't let it bug you. I mean, it's a lot of jazz that two can make out on the same grocery list-unless you dig fish heads and rice, that is."
"You'd make any man a hell of a wife, Lei," he said. "Me, especially. I guess I've been thinking about it."
Her eyebrows went up. "Even with all those-all that-I mean, Lorna and the girls-"
"Even with all that," he said. "Somehow, it's all different with you."
"I know," she said. "I--well, hell, I buttered my bread last night with this guy Lorna wanted to keep happy. Okay; so I got my kicks along with him, but it didn't mean the same. I-maybe you understand what I'm trying to say, Rush."
He nodded, thinking about that, about her, and how she'd fit with the ranch up north. There was a strength to her, a solid thing, and they'd work together, he knew. But could she enjoy the lonesomeness, the distance from town, the not having people around?
He watched her as she washed the dishes in the tiny kitchen alcove, saw her standing tall and slim, but rounded in her translucent dressing gown. Exotic, yes; sexy, yes, but also a comfort to be with, bringing a calmness with her and a serenity that got into a man.
Lei turned then, and caught him watching her. Her sloe eyes flickered, deepened, and the serenity broke itself into little pieces. Wearing half a smile, she moved toward him, sway-hipped toward him with her stripper's walk, an exaggerated thrusting of the pelvis and a conscious lifting, thrusting of the high, firm breasts.
She leaned to kiss him as he sat in the chair, moving her mouth softly over his, giving him a small taste of her banked fires, a hint of flavor, a wisp of texture. Then she was gone, moving gracefully to the bed, where she paused and shed her thin robe.
Pirouetting, she faced him, standing proudly and straight, as she'd posed that first time she brought him here, when he'd been so terribly in need of her, or any woman. High breasts, stiffly nippled, skin all sleek and golden, and the furry curls of her mound were midnight black, crisply black as the wealth of the hair that hung all the way down her back to kiss the top of her lushly rounded tail.
Rush stood up, too, and peeled out of his own clothing. The look of her, the waiting eagerness of her, hit him in the belly like a good left hook. It was almost as if he'd never been wallowing in females, as if he'd just heard the big gate at Soledad clang behind him after two long years.
She was lovely, achingly lovely, and he went to take her in his arms, to hold that beauty against him and make it even more real. She was warm, smooth; her mouth raced over his, her open lips drew in his tongue, and her butterfly fingers found his prick.
Sensuously, Lei rubbed it against her belly, moved it between their bellies while she ground her pelvis lightly into him and darted her tongue into his mouth. The banked flames of her burst forth, fanned into a fury that he could taste in her mouth.
She leaned back and they fell together on the bed, mouths still fastened, bodies snaking over each other, writhing and pushing and knowing the tingling buildup of need, of sweet pressure. He cupped her mound in his hand, held it between his splayed fingers, and worked one finger into her lips, moved it searchingly inside the wet satin of her vagina. He found her clitoris and teased it, slid caressing over it until Lei moaned and hunched swiftly upon his hand.
She broke her mouth from his then, and bit his throat, his upper chest; her warm mouth slid over to fasten upon one of his nipples, and he stroked the long, rich cascade of her black hair as it covered his chest and belly. Her hands held his rod, fondled his scrotum, and her mouth dipped to his belly, to the prowling of his navel.
Down on him she went, pulling the head of it into her lips, so that he could feel the gentle grating of her teeth and the quick curling of her tongue. But he would not allow her to do this alone; he wanted to share with her, be with her, combine with her. Rush turned slowly, changing position upon the bed, moving lengthwise of her and carefully on top of her as she clung to his prong with her mouth.
Instinctively, he went to her lower groin, using his hands to part the wondrous sleekness of her thighs, and buried his face into the depths of that abundant pubic hair. She was soft and sweet, and her legs opened wide for him, her labia spreading, swelling for his caresses.
He tongued into them, pulled the clitoris into his teeth and rolled it tenderly. He felt Lei gasp around his prick, and felt her tongue stiffen for a moment before it again took up the tantalizing licking, the eager suctioning that was making him hump and wiggle.
This was good; this was the intimate, mutual sharing of sixty-nine, and he dug it. He pulled upon her clit and sucked on it, and Lei began a slow, steady stroking up against his mouth and back down again.
He lifted and rolled his own rear, sliding his rod up and down and around in that great suction, that adoring pull she was exerting upon him. Her fingernails bit into his buttocks as she pulled him back down to her, and it was like screwing but different, as hot and as ecstatic, but exotic, titillating in its strangeness.
Rush worked on her clit, loosed it to thrust his tongue rapidly into the vagina, out along the labia and back again to the little boy in the boat, centering her pleasure and bringing her more swiftly to her climax. He felt it coming, felt the quiver that began deep within her vagina, and pumped in quickening strokes, drove it into her mouth, into her velvet throat, hurrying to match her approaching orgasm.
They came together; he let go with a massive throbbing, a spurting ejaculation that she took gladly, gaspingly, and Lei hunched her mound violently to his face, ground and shook as the waves of release exploded within her.
Good; it was so damned good, just to lie there with his prick holstered by her loving mouth, to keep his face hidden between the opulence of her thighs, in the juicy ripeness of her pussy. He enjoyed the feel of her hair, her skin, the wetness of her.
She let go first, murmuring endearments to his scrotum, his lower belly, stroking his cheeks. Regretfully, he lifted from her mound, and rolled from her body. They lay head to foot for awhile, until Lei turned about and moved down to kiss him deeply and with a lingering pleasure.
She found cigaretts for them, and they lay smoking quiety, warmed and gentled by what they had shared. In time, Lei said, "Rush? What was it like-your first time?"
"Sex? My very first time?" His eyes were closed, and he had been floating, drifting. He knew why she'd asked, why she wanted to know all about him, everything concerning what he thought and what he did. It seemed a natural thing, her wanting to know all that.
Rush remembered clearly, the first time out; he supposed nobody ever really forgot it. He began to tell her about it, sensing that she really dug the talk, the intimate revelations. There was something voyeuristic about her enjoyment, but that didn't matter.
The girl had been sixteen, he said, and tried to describe Sherry-Sherry Something, because now he couldn't even remember her last name. But she'd been the glamorous girl at school.
He'd lucked into it, because he'd been working in the yard of her house when she was bored, or got turned on by someone else, or whatever her reason had been to seduce the skinny kid. Sherry had to make all the first moves, because he was scared pitiless and a cherry besides.
Sure, there'd been whispers around school about Sherry, and some of the older guys bragged that she was a hot piece, but there was always a lot of that kind of talk, and Rush hadn't really believed it.
Sherry had blonde hair, so blonde it was almost silver, and she was wearing a pair of tight, red shorts, and a halter the same brilliant color. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, because she had these big tits and he could make out the shape of her pussy, those shorts were so snug.
When she came out on the porch and lay on that lounge chair, he was working in the back yard, trimming around the flower bushes and edging the lawn he'd already mowed. She disturbed him, and he kept sneaking looks at her as she lay there, taking a sunbath.
Sherry got up and walked back into the house, and his eyes clung hotly to her tail, to the wiggle of her cheeks as she disappeared into the darkness of her home, the coolly inviting shadows. His heart sank, and his erect rod throbbed in his jeans. Of course, she hadn't said anything to him; she was the glamor girl of the entire school, and he was just Rush Scanlon.
"Hey," she called from the kitchen. "Want a coke?"
He dropped his edger and clippers, and his knees shook when he climbed the steps and crossed the porch. He tried to be casual, though, tried to be cool and uncaring.
Her fingers touched his when she handed him the frosty bottle. He was glad she asked him to sit down at the kitchen table, because he damned near fell down, and he wanted desperately to hide the big hard-on that was bulging his jeans.
"My folks are gone for the day," she said, her red tongue licking out to collect a few drops of coke from her bee-stung lips. "They said I had to stay home and take care of the house, dammit. That's why I'm not out at the beach with the rest."
He felt he had to answer something, so he said, "I'm sorry."
"I was, too," she said. "Until I saw you working in the yard. The day's not a total loss, now. I mean, since you're about done out back, you and me can-kind of get to know each other, right?"
"R-right," he agreed, and gulped noisily on his coke. His rod was so hard it was painful, and he kept his legs crossed under the table, trying to ease it and cover it up.
"Finish your coke and let's go in the living room and dance," she commanded, regal as any princess.
He hesitated, partly because he wasn't much of a dancer, but mostly because of his hard. Rush had never been so shaky in his life, never so embarrassed.
Standing then, staring down at him with those pale blue eyes, Sherry said, "What's the matter? Scared I'll make fun of you? I saw your peter sticking out while you were still working on the lawn. That's why I asked you in here."
Rush reddened, swallowed, and was miserable. He wanted to drop through the linoleum, to get up .and run away. He really didn't know what the hell to do, or say.
She came even closer, so that her big, round tits were right in front of his eyes as he sat stiffly on the chair, still clenching the empty coke bottle. He could smell her perfume, and the faintly musky odor of the fine sweat that was beading her bare arms.
"You're a cherry," she accused. "That's how come I haven't seen you around with the gang.
Look, Rush-you don't have to be scared. I'll show you how to do it. I've showed other boys."
"Okay," he mumbled. "Okay then, show me."
She took his hand and he got up and followed her into the cool shadows of the living room, where the drapes were drawn to keep out the summer sun. At the couch, she let go of him.
"You're nice," she said, "real nice, account of you admit you never screwed before. All the other boys say sure, sure they have, and then they fumble around and pop off before they even get it in. You won't do that, will you?"
"I-I guess not," he said.
"Undress," she said, "and don't worry, the gate to the back yard is locked, and so is the front door. Nobody will come in."
He was slower than she was, getting stripped. She did some movement to her halter, and her round tits popped right out; she wiggled her hips, and the shorts peeled off. The hair on her pussy was the same color as the hair on her head, a silvery paleness that was long and silken and so damned beautiful he wanted to cry.
"Come on," she said, "come on."
He somehow got out of his jeans and shirt and shoes, and she pulled him down to the couch, telling him to kiss her, to feel her tits and her thing. That's what she called it, her thing.
After the first tentative caress, he was all right. He cupped her tits and rolled them around in both hands, feeling the stiff nipples, flinching as she took hold of his prick.
He was a little clumsy, fumbling over her arm and hand to get to her pussy, her thing. It felt wonderful, just as he'd dreamed one would feel, if he ever got to touch it. It was soft and tickly and the hair on it drove him crazy, it felt so damned good. It was warm, too, and when he found the slot, the lips hidden deeply within the silky hair were sticky.
"Put your finger in," Sherry panted. "All the way in-now another finger; yeah, yeah-that's right. Move 'em around, sweetheart-feel around-higher, yeah, yeah, yeah. Faster, sweetheart, faster, faster!"
He realized he was jacking her off, that he was doing for her what he did for himself, when the pressures got too much to bear and he relieved himself by masturbation.
Rush was glad she turned loose of his prick, to grab both hands on his hips. If she'd held on much longer, he'd have let go all over her arm. As it was, he felt the end of his rod going all hot and sticky, like the lips he was feeling.
"Uh!" Sherry grunted then, twisting her belly, hunching on his hand. "Uh-uh-uh!"
She sat very still, with his fingers inside her, buried in all that hotness, with the silky hair curling down around them. After awhile, she said, "That was pretty good; you're going to be pretty good, too. Now, sweetheart-take out your fingers and let me lie down on the couch. Take that pillow, yeah-slip it under my butt-"
And he stared at her femaleness, at the steamy pussy, the soft thighs, the shape of her ass.
"Come on," she said, "come on, Rush. Get on top of me-in between my legs, yeah-I'll take your peter and put it-"
He shivered when he made contact with that hairy, warm mound, shuddered violently when she placed the head of his aching rod into those sticky lips, and she didn't have to tell him anything else. She didn't have to say anything more, because he was shoving it hard into her, shoving it as far up her hot and slippery pussy as far as he could cram it.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "Oh yeah, sweetheart-oh do it to me good, Rush; stick it to me good and deep-oh yeah-"
He laid it into her, using his ass like a hammer and his prick like a nail, driving it home and glorying in the slick, hot sensation as it slid in and out of her vagina, as it pounded in and out of that wonderful hole.
He tried to hold back, sensing that she was hunching and heaving to bring herself to come again, but the feeling was too much for him, and he came for the first time inside a girl.
It was terrific. His semen pumped out in spasms, in big, spitting releases, and he felt her clench on his rod, felt Sherry heave and buck beneath him. He realized that she had come, too, that he had succeeded as a screwer.
Man, it was good in there, where it was so bubbly and hot. It was good to lie there on top of her smooth belly and feel his balls snugged there in the crack of her tail, feel all that long, pale pussy hair wrapped around his root.
"You did real good, sweetheart," she told him. "You did just fine. I got your cherry, and you'll never, never forget me for it."
A span of years later, Rush Scanlon lay naked and sated on the bed beside a beautiful Chinese girl, and said that Sherry Somebody had been right. He had never forgotten her-only her last name. And he was still grateful to her.
He nudged Lei Ng to be certain she was awake. Across her upright breasts, he could see dawn easing in the window of her apartment. She rolled the softly angled planes of her face to him, and her black eyes smiled on him
"You know something funny?" he asked. "About Sherry, I mean. She never even went out with me again, and pretty soon stopped talking to me on the phone. She said I was too young for her, and I guess she was right. But that wasn't the strange thing. After I got home that day, I got to thinking it all over, and realized that she had never kissed me-not even once."
"I'll make up for that," Lei murmured, and lifted enough to cover his mouth with hers, to slip the little animal of her tongue into his mouth. But she wasn't pushing him, just letting him know she was available again, that she was ready if he was.
He cupped her breasts, rolled over to put his belly against hers. "You liked hearing about Sherry?" he asked. "About my first time with a girl?"
"Yes," Lei said, "because that's an important part of Rush Scanlon. It excites me, too-I can see you as a young boy, all frightened and desperate, and I wish the girl had been me, that I could have been the one to teach you about sex."
He stroked her belly, dropped his hand down between her thighs where the deep black hair was fluffy and spiky at once. Lei sighed and kissed him again, her tongue going deeper and more active, her teeth raking lightly across his.
His organ grew harder. It had been lifting slowly all the while he'd been talking, telling the story of his loss of virginity. Or did only girls lose their virginity? He grinned at that, and gave her his cock to hold, to play with and massage fully to erection.
When it was hard beneath her fingers, Lei put a leg over his hip and kind of snuggled down on the head of his rod, slowly wiggling until the staff was seated into her hips. She slid on it, wriggled on it, and pulled it happily into her warmly eager entrance. They screwed tenderly for a long time, until they both came and fell asleep.
CHAPTER NINE
It was part of the hours, Lei said, part of the business. Most people had breakfast and lunch, but showgirls usually had two breakfasts. So they had pancakes and little sausages this time, for the second menu, with pats of butter and real sorghum molasses bought from a little import shop on the wharf.
Over coffee laced with a good brandy, they talked again, wandering bits of information at first, small disclosures about themselves, their early lives, little glimpses of the dreams they'd had before the dreams got bruised by realities.
They took turns in the shower, then, and Lei had a safety razor he used to clean up the stubble. It was two in the afternoon then, and Rush thought it was time to call the Allison house. For a moment, it was as if he was punching in, or asking their permission, but the idea faded after Jan Allison giggled at him and said Lorna had flown up to San Francisco, and only the sisters were available, if he was in a hurry.
He laughed with the girl, and asked about Kemp and the fag. Hadn't been seen, Jan said, probably still running. Okay, Rush said, he'd see them that evening, probably.
When he hung up the phone, Lei's face was a little sad. "Want me to move out?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not-not unless you want to."
He hesitated. "Lei, there's something I have to do, something that's very, very important to me. Lorna Allison may be a part of that."
"Money?"
"Not her money." He wanted to tell her everything, but the warning bell rang softly in the back of his head, or maybe it was something left over from the distrust of prison. "I-there's money involved, all right, a lot of money. Enough so it can mean that place to be free I talked about, that spread in the mountains. Right now-it could be dangerous, and about all I can say is that maybe Lorna will have to help me. That's the reason I'm out there in that palace."
"One of the reasons," she said.
"Okay, that, too. I dig those wild scenes. Nothing like them ever happened to me before, and I get some far out kicks with Lorna, especially when Jan and Cleo mix in. And along that line, what makes you so cooperative, as Lorna says?"
Lei passed him a smoke, and lighted one for herself. "It's a little bit that way with me, too. I mean, digging the wild scenes. Lorna can do that to people-to me, anyhow. She's the only woman I ever made it with. But that's not all. Lorna Allison can pull strings all up and down this coast. The Shipwreck Club is just for kicks. She has pieces of companies in a dozen different businesses, and people listen when she says something."
He waited awhile, but she didn't follow that up. He had the picture, though. A stripper would have a tough time finding work on the coast, if Lorna said no.
"Okay," he said. "Let's leave it for now, then. But you still owe me something."
"Oh? What?"
"The story of your deflowering, that dark day when you became a non-virgin. I made my confession, now it's your turn."
Lei leaned back in her chair and stretched, her arms up over her head. The movement pushed her breasts up and out, so her nipples made bulges; they were soft now, but he could look at their outlines and remember how dark they were when they turned erectile, how they were shiny and nearly black.
"My story was different," Lei said. "No two kids making it together, no dream fulfillment. It happened to me before I knew what the hell it was all about. Hang loose, Rush, and I'll tell you the sad tale of the Chinese chick, or how the fortune cookie got turned into a stripper."
And she told him, slowly at first, haltingly, and he knew she'd never gone through this with anyone else, that she'd never gotten the story out before now. He also knew why she'd asked for this, so she could take a turn, so she could open to him all the way, and show him how it was with her.
She was fourteen, she said, and knew about sex the way most kids her age knew-third hand and all goofed up. Her family was kind of old country, and she wouldn't get to go out on dates until she was seventeen, so any real know-how was a long way off. She'd experimented a little, of course, tickled herself with her finger, and stuff like that.
He was forty years old, and some kind of professor. A round-eye, a Caucasian, and someone the family respected because all Chinese respected education. He was good-looking and attentive, and a fourteen year old girl thought he was just the most because he listened to her and looked at her.
Lei could tell, even then, but she had no idea she was playing with something explosive. She liked being looked at, for her breasts had started to bloom, and her legs were slimming, and her thighs made a funny tingle when they brushed against each other. And for a grownup man to stare slyly at her when he thought she didn't notice-well, that was something.
A new book she'd like, he suggested over the phone one afternoon. She needn't take long, just a stopover on the way home from school. She could tell her people a day ahead of time that she had to stay a little later, an hour or so. It was like having a big secret, a conspiracy, so of course Lei agreed.
Because she carried her schoolbooks into the hotel, nobody even noticed her, and she wished she'd had something to change into, something besides a goofy middy blouse and pleated skirt and sneakers. She still had the pink bow in her hair, and that made her feel gawky, too, so she slipped it out and put it in her pocket before she knocked timidly on the numbered door.
He smiled her inside and gave her a coke and a cream puff and said how very nice she looked. And when she finished eating the cream puff, he went over and locked the door and told her to take off her clothes.
"W-what did you say?"
He advanced on her, a long black leather belt somehow in his hand. "Don't scream, little girl. If you scream, I'll choke you and throw you out of that window. You'll die on the sidewalk down there-five floors down. Take off your clothes, you little Oriental bitch!"
She was so afraid she couldn't breathe. He didn't look handsome any more, but terrifying, like someone out of a horror movie. She fumbled at her blouse, afraid not to, and he jerked off her skirt.
"The panties," he ordered, and she saw him getting out of his bath robe. "The little bra, my dear. Ah, that's it-such lovely skin, you little bitch-oh, what an adorable little cunt."
Lei was trembling and cold, but there was a weakness in her knees, in her belly. She recoiled a step when she saw his organ, all huge and red and swollen. She had no idea one could be that big.
He sat down in the big chair, with his legs stuck out and spread apart; there was a jar of salve on the table at his elbow, and he lubricated himself with it. Still shaking, she came to stand over his big penis when ordered, and he used the greasy stuff on her, too.
All the time, he kept talking to her in his modulated, educated voice, calling her beautiful, and in the next breath a sex trap, a nymphet who'd been teasing him for months.
All the time, Lei kept thinking this was a kind of movie, and nothing would really happen. But he kissed her young tits and rubbed his. soft, deft hands over her ass and made her rub up against that great big thing of his, that monster cock that stuck up so thick and long out of his nest of thick brown hair.
He kissed her and tongued her, and she had to admit that she liked that a little bit, but being naked with him, and feeling that ugly staff against her belly-all that kept her frightened so she could barely think.
So when he put both hands around her small waist and lifted her up tippytoe, and stuck the gleaming head of his thing up to her little box, Lei still didn't feel much, only fear. Until he wiggled it around and got it somehow between her tight lips and then pulled her entire body down, so that his prick came up and her virgin pussy came down on it, with her thighs spread and the slippery salve making it possible for him to squeeze into her an inch.
It hurt. It hurt like hell, and she was going to scream anyhow, even if he choked her and threw her five floors down out of the window. But he clamped one hand over her mouth and the other over her ass to force her farther down on his stiff organ, and the thing worked another inch up into her agonized pussy, spreading the lips and tearing her, hurting her.
She tried to bite his hand and she beat at his head, but he kept right on jabbing up, hunching it into her, and pushing her thin, twisting body down harder and harder. Then something broke, something gave way, and he rammed it all the way. She felt that huge prick inside her, stuffing her, filling her torn pussy; she felt her cheeks come down on that curly hair, on his wrinkled up sack, and she was suddenly belly to belly with him.
He stroked her then, rolled her dainty ass between his hands so that she made small gyrations upon his rod, and she realized that he had let go of her mouth. But Lei didn't scream; she didn't feel like screaming. She found herself moving with him, her belly sliding across his, her young cunt was loosening, tingling, and all of a sudden, the pain was gone.
"Ahh, you sweet little bitch," he said to her, and heaved up as she wiggled on his staff, as she reveled in the size and length of it, and the slidy feeling got better and better.
She moaned and held onto his shoulders and kind of jumped up and down on him as he stroked it into her, as he fucked her strong and well, and when she felt him spurt thick and hot inside of her, she felt like a woman, a woman, not a kid. And she proved it by hitting her own orgasm, by coming with a mad, wild, quivering series of spasms that shook her inside and out.
That first orgasm changed her life. Because she loved it. She went back to the professor again and again, and did everything he told her to do for him and to him, and she loved everything he did back to her.
When the professor suddenly left town and the state, Lei was heartbroken, for she had somehow believed the ecstasy would last forever, but then she was only fourteen, and a romantic.
Lei lit another cigarette and got up to refill their coffee cups. A breeze off the Bay came probing through the window and fluttered the curtains, smelling of kelp, tasting of salt and far places. Lei said: "At sixteen, my family caught me laying a boy in the basement of our home, and my lather threw me out. Three weeks later, when I got hungry enough, I lied about my age and became an exotic dancer, which is the agency tag for a stripper. I'm just a little tired of stripping, Rush, a little tired of cigar smoke and drunks and doing favors on any place big enough to lie down on."
"Hell," he said, "your family should have given you at least another chance."
"They didn't," she said. "But that taught me to separate romance from sex, most of the time. I liked doing it, but I learned not to fall in love with every man I laid. Love doesn't have to be a part of it.
"But it helps?" Rush asked. "It helps," she said, and looked down into her coffee cup.
He went over to stand behind her, to lean and kiss the top of her head, his hands lightly upon her shoulders. He said into her hair, that blackly lustrous hair. "We'll make it, Lei; you and me and the hell with the rest of them. In a little while, in just a little while."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears when jShe stood and turned to him, and there was a special softness to her lips when she kissed him. He held the length of her firm, lush body pressed to him, and she felt good, warm, throbbing.
"Take you down to the club and buy you a drink," he suggested.
"Later," she said, "after. You think I fed you and let you use my shower and told you my sordid story, just to have you walk on out of here with your honor intact?"
She'd made the switch with an effort, but changed her mood from depression to upbeat, blinking the tears from her eyes. Rush loved her for it, for the try, the change, the reason. He kissed the end of her nose, her eyelids, and suddenly her body was fierce against him.
She gave him her mouth, a warmly mobile pair of lips, a tongue that searched hungrily for his, the small and perfect teeth that clashed with his, and the gusting breath that was an essence of her.
She walked backward, hands on his cheek and neck, and drew him with her to the bed. They fell across it together, and the translucent dressing: gown fell open across her thighs, her shapely legs flashed, and his hands roamed that lovely body,: those modelled hills and succulent valleys that would never become too familiar to him.
"No," she murmured, "no, Rush. Get thaw damned robe off-lie back. Let me do it all, baby-all. Don't even move."
He pampered her, gave in to her whim, lying flat on his back with his legs spread and his penis standing high. Lei fondled his body, kneeling there with the black tent of her richly profuse hair spread over her shoulders and down her back. Her soft hands slid over his shoulders, his chest, down to his hips, his belly; she bypassed the rigid organ and caressed his thighs, his knees.
Coming back up the same way, this time she ran her fingers lightly over his staff, into the hair, down around the scrotum. Leaning, she kissed thej head, touched it quickly with her tongue, and! moved on before he could thrust it at her.
Placing one rounded and silken knee on each side of his body, and poised for a long moment rstaring down at him, her pelvis high and shining black, the flawless skin tinted by a deep golden color, with ivory highlights.
Lei reached down between her legs and took hold of his cock. She bent it just so, positioned it properly, and lowered her body toward it, coming down upon it slowly and tantalizingly. He felt the first touch of her pubic hair, the first hint of dampness at her labia, and a tremor moved along his rod to his belly. Smiling down at him, her eyes hotly dark and almond, she roated her tail just a bit, and his glans slid across the dewy lips.
Back the other way she came, teasing, playing with him, still clinging to his rod with both hands, using it as she might toy with a dildo, prolonging the moment of entry. Back and forth across her dampening lips, she rubbed him; up and down in the tingle of her crisply curled pubic hair. He was more than ready by the time she inserted the head into her grasping labia and lowered her weight slightly more upon him.
His rod went an inch up into her sheath, or rather she came down an inch upon it, for Rush fought himself not to move, to do exactly as she wanted him to perform, battled to keep his hands from those flaring hips. Lei came down some more, and his staff slid past the clinging labia and into the narrow passageway of her hotly thrilling pussy.
Lei gasped, and a pulsation ran the length of her vagina. She couldn't play any longer. She came down upon his rod with a single, twisting surge, with a driving movement that seated him full length into her and they were belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, their pubic hair mingling, turning dewy.
She rocked upon him, sliding her tail back and i forth, then swinging slowly from side to side, and she screwed him so gently, so blissfully.
"Hey, baby-that's so good. Oh man-I can feel it all the way up me, real tight in me. Darling, darling-you're so sweet and hard, and how I love your prick in me like this. When I grind you this way, and pump you that way, I can feel the head of it rub the walls, and the stem rub my clit. Oh, doll-this is where it's truly, truly at!"
Tenderly then, she stepped up the rhythm, turning the cheeks of her trim and delightful ass at an angle, then back, then to the other side. She stroked him up and down, and her pussy was a steam box, a lubricated slot that tightened and loosened upon his rigid, throbbing organ, that warmed him and fondled him, and began to pump him up and up.
Dammit! He couldn't take it any longer, not another second longer. His hands came up of their own volition and caught her twisting hips. He pulled her down violently upon his rod, and arched his back to try and drive it just that impossible fraction deeper into her flexing vagina.
She came, frothing and bucking on his upright staff. He hit a split second behind her, fired it high and furiously into the upper reaches of her box, pumped it out against her shivering womb.
Panting, she fell forward upon him, and her hard-nippled breasts swung flat against his hairy chest. Her breath stirred gasping against his throat, and all that luxury of scented hair spread over both of them, covering and blessing their oneness.
After a long, slowly melting while, Lei whispered, "You cheated."
"Okay," he said. "I lost. I owe you a drink."
"And a rematch," she said, kissing his mouth. "Don't forget the return bout clause."
She climbed off him, and went in the bath to clean up. He lay for a while thinking about her, smelling the scent of her that hung about him, a sidue of her being with him and loving him. Rush pretty sure of that much-Lei loving him, all id completely with her mind as well as her flesh.
But it was too soon, maybe too quick altogether. There was still the stuff waiting in the mast of the Bianca, the moves to be made so it would turn into a suitcase full of money. And there were still the Allisons, the glamorous mother and the beautiful daughters, and they were mixed in with the hermit years, the monk-hood years when the up and coming middleweight had deprived himself and his man's needs.
They were too much for him to turn down, even if Lei was with him, for him, all the time. They were the differences, the candy wrappings of the varied and intriguing packages of sensuality. Lorna-tiny and golden and knowing of all things sensual. Jan-small and child-like, the constant eager virgin. Cleo-young and worldly and open; what man could turn down such a trio?
Not until they tired of him. Not until the newness and marvels wore off, and it might take a good long time for all of that to erode. He hadn't had the three of them together yet, and he closed his eyes to picture the three in bed together at the same time, all glowingly naked, all joined by the heat of their blood line and their mutual lust for him, for their stud.
"Hey now," Lei said. "Here I am all dressed, and look at you."
He grinned and sat up. "Just thinking."
"That was obvious," she said. "You're about at half mast. You must be some kind of sex maniac, and don't ever stop."
Rush laughed at her and took his turn in the bathroom. The one sport jacket was looking a little sad, but his shirt was clean, and there were no ', stains on his slacks. He'd have to do something before long. The thirty bucks left from the generosity of the penal authorities wouldn't buy much in the way of new clothes.
"Drinks, then," Lei said. "At the Shipwreck, naturally. Then we can grab a bite on the wharf before I have to go to work and you have to-do whatever."
They walked the few blocks, and the afternoon was kind, the sun warmer than usual for a Monterey summer, and the fog less. Gulls wheeled and piped overhead, and Rush thought that the smell of the sea was good, but not as good as the mountains, with wind off the snowcaps and down from the high fir trees.
"I'll go back for the car," he told her, and took her elbow to help her along the uneven wharf, where her spike heels might catch.
Three flower-shirted tourists sat together at a table in the Shipwreck. The barkeep said hi to Lei and nothing to Rush. He was the same dark, sour individual who'd grunted at Rush the day before, and he was beginning to rub the wrong way.
But the mast was there, set about by bottles, and Rush smiled at it.
CHAPTER TEN
The barkeep nailed Rush as he came out of Lei's dressing room and walked along the short, dark hallway leading back to the bar. Rush caught a flash of the guy's face just after the club hit him, and he went to his knees wondering why the hell. The lights flashed on and off quickly, like a neon sign, and his head buzzed, but Rush shook it off and started to climb back up. He'd been decked before, and knew about getting back up in a hurry.
But he only got part way, and realized this wasn't a ring, that the man who'd hammered him one was waiting with the club raised for another shot. So Rush went in low, head down, legs driving him forward to catch the barkeep in the gut and slam him backward into the wall.
Somewhere off behind him, Lei yelled something. Not a scream, but a shout of anger, and he was glad for the difference. The club slapped his shoulder as he came up inside the man's arms and butted the guy under the chin.
Head clearing, Rush dug a combination to the body, then slid back to shift it to the head. The bartender went down. The club rolled over the floor and bumped hard into the far wall.
Lei was there then, eyes blazing, fingers clawed, the tigress ready to attack. Rush pushed her back and watched the guy on the floor. After awhile, the guy moved, rolled over, but slow and disjointedly. He wasn't faking, he'd been stiffened.
"You son of a bitch," Lei said down at the man. "Frankie, you bastard-"
Rush touched her arm. "Frankie who?"
"Lamana, Frankie Lamana," she said. "Let go. I'll stick that damned club in his ear."
Rush grinned. "You might at that. Does he have a thing for you, or what?"
She was still glaring. "He made a couple of passes, but I let him know a long time ago I wouldn't play."
"So it probably isn't that," Rush said. "Which makes the reason something else. Go watch the front of the place, Lei; shut the door, maybe. I'll find out what the story is from Frankie here."
She went by him quickly, stepping over the legs, and Rush waited until the man sat up. Then he said, "Those were clean shots, man. Nothing to break you up, but I can do that, Frankie. I can screw your head and collarbones and your ribs so you won't ever be the same again. Then I can kick your crtoch until you don't have anything left but jelly."
"H-hey, man," Frankie Lamana said, mumbling, trying to get his head clear. "Look, I wasn't-"
Rush slapped him, slapped his head back and; forth, back and forth, leaning down to reach the man, winging the slaps full armed, making them hurt like hell.
When he stopped, he said, "Why, Frankie?"
"Oh damn," Frankie mumbled, holding his head in both hands, sitting up against the wall. "Damn-I never figured on anything like this. You were such a smartass with the Chink doll, and he said-he said you were bothering the family, and for a hundred-"
"Who, Frankie?"
The man shook his head. "I never been hit so damned hard in my life. My head feels all funny, like. Who? That Ramsey guy, and he's married into the Allison family, and I thought-"
"A queer with him, a real swish?"
Frankie Lamana nodded. "Look, man-I think I'm gonna' be sick."
Rush picked up the club and walked into the bar. Lei was just turning from the door. He said, "Cleo's husband put him on me. A hundred bucks, he said."
"Go back and beat his head off," Lei suggested.
"Pull the shades on the door and hang up the closed sign. Frankie won't bother us for awhile, he's busy being sick."
She stared at him. "What do you want behind the bar? Not money, Rush-not like that."
"No," he said, and found a short slicing knife under the bar. "Pull the shades, girl." He drove the knife point into a cutting board and snapped it off to make a screwdriver.
He shoved bottles to each side of the decorative mast of the Bianca, because there was no time like the present to get the stuff. Damn the barman, he wouldn't know what happened until it was too late to do anything about it.
There was heavy paint over the screws that held on the patch, and Rush chipped at it, scraped at it until he could get his makeshift screwdriver to work. Grunting with the effort, he forced the screws to run, got two of them out, then a third, and with his fingers under the irregular shape of metal, pushed it around until there was room for his hand.
He reached into the mast, half his arm's length, and-it was there.
It was there in its oiled paper wrappings, snug and safe after more than two years hidden. Rush found a bag full of lemons under the bar, emptied it, and began taking packets of the stuff out of the mast. There was a good weight to the sack.
Lei said, "That's what you meant?"
"I'll tell you all about it," he said. "But we'd better get the hell out of here first."
They were out the door and a few steps along the wharf when Frankie Lamana said from behind them: "I know you now. I know who you are, you punchy bastard. You're the guy tried to kill Geegee Fallo here on the wharf a couple years ago. He's gonna' be glad to know you're back in town-and what you got outa the mast of his old salmon boat."
The door slammed and Rush heard bolts snap into place. So much for that. Frankie would be on the phone now, and soon every hood on the peninsula would know Rush Scanlon was back.
"We ought to hurry," Lei said, and they walked swiftly along Alvarado Street toward her place, where he'd left the MG. They made two blocks, when the Lincoln swung over to the curb beside them.
"Lift, mister?" Cleo Allison was behind the wheel, and Jan Allison was beside her. "Hi, Lei, Rush."
He opened the back door, helped Lei inside, slid in after her. "Better this way," he said. "Easier. There'll be guys looking for me now, and for you, too. Maybe it's better we don't go to your place."
Cleo said, "Mystery?" and slid the Continental easily into the light traffic.
Rush said, "You might say I'm hot. Your husband put a bartender on me, paid him a hundred to work me over. One thing led to another, and there are some people who now know I'm around-people a lot rougher than your husband."
"The cabin," Jan said. "Not on the beach, the one up the canyon. It'll be groovy, hiding there."
Cleo pointed the big car toward Carmel Hill, cruised up and over it, and right on by the traffic light at the town entrance, keeping south on the coast highway. She said things about her husband, about Kemp Ramsey and his tame fag, and Jan embellished the names, gleefully.
"Your mother?" Rush asked, the brown paper bag on the floor between his feet.
"Still in San Francisco. She called today and said she'd try to make it in late tonight, asked about you." Jan was playing a game, acting the gun moll, tough and daring.
Feeling loose and light, exhilarated now that he actually had the contraband in his possession, Rush played along with her, but told them no more than he had to. Even Lei didn't know what was in the bag, although she might suspect.
Cleo tooled the big car along the coast, over the hills and along the high rocks until Rush said, "Stop here, please. Just for a minute or two, Cleo."
Obediently, she pulled over off the road and let him out. The bridge approach was just ahead, and the sign reading Wildcat Canyon. Rush trotted to it and turned down off the highway, half-slid down the suddenly steep incline that dropped angling toward dizzy depths below.
Carefully, he climbed along the concrete abutment and found a convenient girder. Not looking down, he inched along the steel span to a joining, and there he wedged the sack of heroin packets, out of sight to anyone standing on the ground and staring up, out of sight of anyone foolhardy enough to lean out over the bridge rail.
He climbed back down the girder and back up the steep bank, slipping on the concrete blocks, using rooted ice plant for a handhold. He was panting when he rejoined them in the car. Cleo drove for another five minutes before turning off into a canyon lined with redwood trees and walled by green banks. The narrow road twisted and turned, and she followed it to a branch off, took the left and climbed to a small plateau hidden in the trees.
The cabin was solidly built of stone and logs, and there were two bedrooms off the main room, a fireplace, kitchen and two baths. Cleo unlocked the door and opened a full larder, a freezer, pantry filled with canned goods and a liquor closet.
"There's a caretaker," Cleo explained. "He patrols the area by day and night, with dogs. Nobody breaks in around here."
Rush nodded. "Does your husband know about this place?"
"Yes, but he won't think of it for awhile. We don't use it much. In fact, he's only been here once before. Let's all make ourselves at home. Martinis?"
"Fine," he said, and felt a weight slide off his shoulders. The stuff was well hidden, and even if the girls told someone the general area, it would stay hidden until sombody got nerve enough to climb that girder. This cabin was tucked away, with a watchman of sorts, yet. It was the best he could do for now. He'd talk it over with Lei, and they'd try making some contacts, maybe in Salinas or San Francisco.
"Hang loose," Jan suggested, and skipped off while her sister made a pitcher of drinks.
Lei took hers and downed it immediately. Without looking at Rush, she said something about needing to clean up, to rest awhile. He watched her stride off, and thought she'd be okay when he gave her the full story. He had another drink and stretched his legs.
"Is she jealous?" Cleo asked.
Rush shrugged. "Says she isn't, but I don't know."
"She shouldn't be," Cleo said. "I've seen Lei uround our place a few times, and I think she and Lorna have a thing going."
Tall, slim almost to the point of being lean, Cleo stood near him, and her closeness made him clearly remember the supple mobility of her long, graceful legs. Out of sight, he heard a shower going. The gin lay warm in his belly and put quick little bubbles in his blood.
Cleo's smile was slow and knowing. "Why not?" she asked, and whipped the dress off over her head. He watched her shed bra and panties, but she kept on the spike heel shoes, and her tanned, sleek legs had never looked better, never longer.
Soft brown hair, feathered over her mound, deep and rich, sending out tendrils that curled cunningly along the joining of her thighs, a line of individual hairs that marched up to her navel. Cleo's skin was smooth, gleaming with health and warmth, and she ran her hands over her body, her hips and belly.
She lifted her hands to her breasts, cupped them and thumbed the nipples while smiling down at him, while rolling her hips and swaying back and forth. She was beckoning him, tempting him, and it didn't take much pleading. He felt the old tool rise, gorging itself on his racing blood, ready to burrow into that shining, piled hair again, eager to try that hidden slot.
There was a special bitchery about all the Allison women, a lascivious thing that pulled a man, drew him to them, for they always backed up their appeal.
His head told him that Lei was in the next room, that Jan was somewhere about, but his body said: now, man, now! Jan would probably join them soon, anyway, and Lei-well, she knew what was going on with the Allisons; she had been part of it for a considerable length of time.
He piled his own clothing on a chair and stood before her naked and tumescent, hands going out for her, for the touch and feel of her on his palms, under his fingers. Cleo came into his arms, up against his body, catching his rod in both softly caressing hands as she did so, lifting her red, parted lips for his kiss.
Her tongue found his, fondled him damply, and her tits made warm, half-mounds against his chest. She kept rolling her hips, and sliding her belly across his, kept playing with his tool, and whispering into his mouth.
"Beautiful stud prick," she whispered. "Hard and long, and thick. Veined and pulsing under my fingers. Lovely prick, strong and hungry, wanting to be inside me, in my cunt. I love your prick, Rush Scanlon, I worship your prick."
She drew him back and down, and they were on the floor together. Her body was supple under his, bending and arching, and she caressed him with the insides of those long, exquisite legs, with the satiny touch of her symmetrical thighs.
Glowing and anxious, twisting and turning, hunching against him, Cleo tired of the foreplay and as he slid both hands under her slim buttocks, she suddenly used her hands to cram his rod into herself.
Hard, she shoved it, and hard it was, stuffing up inside that clinging, hot passage already turning dewy from her oils. Cleo raised her long, sleek legs, and wrapped them about his body, crossed them over the small of his back at the ankles. As he stroked it into her, she would squeeze him between her thighs, then let go as he withdrew for most of the length of his staff.
Her hands roamed over his shoulders, his throat, they fondled the back of his neck, his hair. He thrust it deeply into her, and she arched her back to take it, quivering and lunging in return, trying to get more of it into her vagina.
Feeding it into her, grinding and hunching between those beautiful legs, he leaned to kiss her, and she bit his lips, raked her teeth over his and sucked on his tongue. Her pelvis rotated against his, and the walls of her vagina caressed his prick at every lingering stroke.
Then Cleo tore away her mouth, contorted her heaving body so that she could turn her face under his chest. Her sharp teeth were at his nipple then, her sucking, hungry mouth and the darting caress of her busy tongue. Her nails raked his back and her pussy convulsed upon his rod.
She came, and her entire body shuddered with the force of her orgasm, with the leaping joy of it. He felt her hot juices bathe his prick, and hammered it steadily into her, even as her mouth moaned and she fell away from his nipple, even as those lithe and shapely legs fell away from his pistoning back.
"Oh stud," she cried out, "oh big man! Lay it to me, screw me some more, do it to me strong, Rush!"
He kept going, building the lift in her vagina again, making her rise to meet his strokes, forcing her to once more lift and meet him as he drove it home, as he buried it in her flexing sheath and drew it back for another twisting stroke.
Cleo cried; Ahh, and came again, the sweat shining on her smooth flesh, beading her face and puddling with her juices in the forest of her pubic hair.
Only then did he let his own good feeling build, and give in to the pressures that were growing in his loins and in his belly. He thrust into her as she lay flaccid beneath him, as she lay broken upon the strength of his ramming prick, and because she was helpless, beaten, he got a bigger kick out of it. He fired his load into her, and Cleo only quivered as the release bathed her womb.
Crawling off her then, Rush looked down and saw her eyes closed, but there was a faint, sleepy smile upon her mouth. He left her supine upon the floor and stood up to walk over for another martini, his rod still pushing out in front of him.
He poured his drink, and reveled in the cold bite of it. If he'd run into a girl like Cleo Allison a long time ago, he would probably never seen the inside of a gym, much less a ring. She put heart and soul into her screwing, and when she recovered from this bout, she'd be ready for another.
When he refilled his glass, the pitcher was about empty, so he moved behind the bar and mixed another batch. No one man could continue to gratify the Allison women; he realized that. He knew that no man in his right mind would marry into them, unless the guy had a certain way of looking at sex, and could accept the fact that they were going to fuck any man they damned well pleased.
But if a guy could understand and accept that much, then look at the kicks he'd get with the rest of the family-Lorna and Cleo and Jan. Mama bear and her two lusty cubs. Rush shook his head and treated himself to another belt. He wasn't seriously considering marrying any one of them, even if they would go for the idea.
This was great, but it was temporary, and he kept the transient affair in its place as something to enjoy while it lasted, as something to look fondly back upon, when it was all wrapped up.
Maybe when it was all done, when the heroin was sold and the ranch bought, the rest of the . money safe, maybe he could drop back down here for a visit sometime. Maybe he could visit mama and the girls and they'd hold a special orgy, just for old times'sake.
Grinning, Rush carried the pitcher from the bar I and put it on a table. There were smokes in a silver box. He helped himself to one and flicked an engraved lighter at it.
He felt good; he felt good when he looked at Cleo, curled girlishly on the floor and sleeping peacefully, all softly naked and momentarily screwed out. He felt good when he thought of the j stuff hidden away, out of that damned bar at last.
Geegee Fallo? The bastard couldn't call the I cops, anyway. All he could do was hire some ; muscle, and they'd all run around like crazy for a few days. Then Fallo would figure Rush was . already in The City, and the stuff was already I peddled. Why not? That's the way it would look-especially when they checked Lei's place and found she hadn't even stopped to pick up her clothes, when they found the red MG he'd been i driving, left where he'd parked it.
Maybe they'd even go so far as to check the Allison home, but they wouldn't lean on Lorna Allison, she carried too much weight on the peninsula, in the state itself.
He'd tell Lei all the details this time. She deserved that much, and he might need her help. There'd be time for quiet talking here, when the Allison girls were still, when they'd been well laid.
"Never trust a naked bartender, I always say." Jan stood in the doorway, towelling her wet hair; she was completely nude, and the freshly showered scent of her reached across to him.
"Drink up, Rush," she said. "You're going to need all the help you can get."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Small bronzed girl, coppery in the skin and gleaming her eyes hotly upon him and her mouth trembling expectantly. She was excited; every time, she was excited as if he was new to her, and she to him, as if they were lovers approaching each other for the first time.
Her nipples lifted as he watched, and the metallic shine of her public curls made little magnetic rays that drew him to her, step by slow, stalking step.
"Man, man," she said, "but you are really something else, Rush. You've burned poor Cleo out, and you're just as ready to try me."
"The constant virgin," he said, and reached a hand out to touch her damp hair. "You're someone very special, Jan. You're beautiful and appealing and-"
"Sexy," she said against his mouth.
"Sexy," he agreed, and then her quickly darting tongue was between his lips. She tasted wonderful, flavored with her youth and eagerness, spiced by the springtime of her self. She smelled fresh and clean, the odor of some lightly scented soap clinging to her.
"Right there on the floor then," she said. "Right there by Cleo. I'll use her for a pillow, it'll serve her right for being such a party poop."
Laughing, she pillowed her head on his sister's belly. Cleo stirred and murmured something, a low peeping like a sleepy chick.
The situation tickled Rush, too. He kneeled between Jan's out-thrust legs, those sweetly fashioned legs so like those of a schoolgirl. Young and tender, and he fondled them, ran his hands slowly and with a teasing motion, over her feet and ankles, over the swelling of her trim calves, her knees, and then leaning forward to caress her thighs.
"Ummm," Jan said, and squeezed her breasts together with both hands.
Rush wanted that young, fresh snatch close to him, wanted to taste it and stimulate her into a near madness. He kissed her knees and slid down on his belly, so that he could lick the inner thighs, so that he could search his tongue tickling into her bronze pubic hair.
"Umm," Jan said. "More, man-more."
Rush curled his fingers around her thighs and shoved his face down between them, buried his lips in that delightful hair. Her lips were warmly damp, and his tongue worked into them, thrust strongly into them as Jan lifted her small pelvis to his chin, as she spread herself to make room for him.
Tight; always tight and always hot; he laved her walls, and probed to find the clitoris. It was rubbery in his teeth, growing more slippery with each curling of his tongue, and when he pulled on it, worried it as a dog might worry some tasty morsel before devouring it, Jan began to roll her tail and to hunch against his face with a grinding rhythm.
She reached her climax, and a wave of ecstasy rippled the walls of her vagina. A shudder rocked her clit, and Jan's legs shoved out stiffly in a muscular reaction to orgasm.
Rush lifted his head from between her thighs, and wiped his face tenderly across the silken skin of her heaving belly. He raised to kiss her breasts one at a time, to touch his tongue tip to her nipples.
Then he turned his head and looked full into Cleo's eyes. She lay there at an angle to Jan watching every detail of each move Rush made with her sister. He smiled at her, then concentrated once again upon Jan, sliding forward to place the head of his staff against her humid mound, to probe it gently until it slipped in between the oiled lips.
Tight, tight and hot, the entire passage narrow and with a suctioning, clinging action that drew his rod in deeper and deeper, until he was buried inside her pussy, locked ball-deep into that vagina squeezing that was so wild, so crazy, so damned good.
They screwed slowly, building easily and steadily to a nice pace that held them both in leash, that didn't hurry anything. Jan squirmed beneath him but carefully, so she wouldn't rush him to a climax, greedily, so that she might prolong his thrusting and so stretch out her pleasure.
Cleo stroked her sister's hair, stroked her cheek, and after awhile Jan turned her face, lifted and pushed it so that she could find Cleo's nipple She clung to that while Rush thrust strongly into her narrow slot, and it turned him on.
He slapped it to Jan, pounded it hard up into that tight box, into that sweetly grasping pussy. He rodded her deep and heavy, and her trim ass rolled and heaved response to his thrust. He felt the neck of her vagina, felt the cushion of her womb opening, and when he came, it was with a corkscrewing stroke that let it all go.
"Baby-baby-baby!" Jan cried out, and came a pulse beat behind his own shuddering discharge, oiling him and basting him and surrounding him with lotions.
They were in a soft, breathing pile, tied together, held together on the floor, a tangle of legs and arms and naked skin, breasts and buttocks and bellies in profusion. When he regained his strength, Rush kissed them both, tasting the fervor and passion in each responsive mouth, the different flavors of them. They were both wonderful, so earthy that a man could wish to lose himself in heir combined embrace, so deep that a man could stay in the warm depths of them forever.
Disentangling himself, Rush poured drinks for them all, and found time to wonder at the disappearance of Lei Ng. He drank and found a cigarette, and as the Allison girls slowly unpiled and came to their feet, he took a spare glass and another smoke out toward the bedrooms.
Lei was lying across a bed, slim and appealing in slacks and halter, the rich profusion of her hair spread across a pillow. She accepted the drink and the cigarette, her almond eyes probing his. "Thanks."
"You're not jealous?"
"A little bit. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. It's a peculiar sensation for me, jealousy. But I hack it and not let it destroy me-us."
"Good," he said, and leaned to kiss her, but her lips were cool.
"Nudist," she said.
"No," he said, "an exotic." They both laughed, and the tension was gone from her.
He talked to her then, telling her of the brittle hands he'd once had, of the trip down the coast in the salmon boat; he told her of George Fallo and the back-breaking work, the slow toughening of the hands.
Rush tried to describe the fury of the storm to her, the wet, cold fear as the boat ripped her guts out on the rocks. He didn't hold anything back, but spoke of finding the heroin, of hiding it again. Then the fight with Fallo and two others, then the two lonely years in Soledad prison, and seeing the mast worked into the decor of the Shipwreck Club.
"You and all that stuff behind the bar," Rush said. "It was quite a find, that night. Finding you was as important as knowing the stuff was still hidden there, that it could mean a new life."
She waited, her dark eyes hooded, smoking quietly.
"I don't dig heroin," he said. "I saw too many cons in the joint that were hooked on it, after the 'cure.' All they rapped about was hitting the street and picking up some more Horse. But look-the stuff's there, it means a hell of a lot of money-two hundred thousand or more."
"Okay," Lei said. "You don't have to sell me. It's the way you see it, what you have to live with."
"But you don't approve?" Lei stubbed out her cigarette. "Approve, disapprove-would anything I say make a difference?"
"It might."
Lei looked at him. "I don't dig heroin, either. I've seen whores fifteen years old, selling themselves to get it. Strippers use it, musicians use it. None of them have anything but trouble. A short life and a rough one."
Rush balanced that with what he knew, set it against the picture of the ranch in the mountains, the peace and serenity, the way things ought to be. What could he do-what the hell else could he do? No state would give him a license, at least, not without a lot of grease being spread around. He was older and slower and out of shape, and he didn't have another trade.
"Just this once," he said. "We sell the stuff to some wholesaler, and that's it. If we don't sell it, that doesn't mean the junkies will stop being junkies."
"Okay," Lei said, "okay."
"You might as well join the party," he said. "We have to hole up here for awhile, a few days, maybe. The girls have given us a hand, and when Lorna comes back, she can help lift the heat a little."
"Rush."
"Yeah?"
"Close the door, and come back to the bed. Make love to me here, easy and quiet, before any party starts. Show me how it can always be with us. If you can."
"I can," he said, and closed the door.
Coming back to her, he helped her off with her slacks, and undid the fastening of the halter so that her high, firm breasts sprang out unfettered. Sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, he held her breasts in both hands, and bent to kiss them, to press his face against their round shapes and to take the nipples into his lips.
Her skin always amazed him, its golden and ivory undertones, the fineness of its texture, the scented softness. He kissed her shoulders, her collarbone, the undersides of her lifted arms. The constant use of a depilatory had left only the faintest suggestion of hair roots in her armpits, and he nuzzled into them in turn.
Rush needed the time, but he enjoyed the play, the slow teasing and stimulation, the exploring of her flesh so that he might forever know it.
He gently urged her over onto her stomach, and spread the canopy of her midnight hair up and out, so that all her body was exposed to his sight, his tasting and his touch. Lei's back was a symphony of loveliness, a marvel of gentle curvature, from the twinned plateaus of her shoulderblades down the hill line of her spine, to the roller coaster dipping of her lower back.
And then there came the sister moundings of her buttocks, smooth and polished and made just so, for the grasping of a man's hands, for the playing of his fingertips, for the salute of his lips.
And the valley-slightly haired in its upper slopes, thickening as the crevass deepened, growing blacker and ever more richly down and around the hiding curves of the upside down mount of Venus.
Rush trailed his mouth over her back, following lines and soft planings and small, unseen dips, finding the little dimples and uncovering the secret pockets of her personal attar, buzzing them for the nectars, the pollens of her skin and flesh.
Lei moved gently under his hands, stirred delicately beneath his mouth, surrendered gasping to the attacks of his teeth and tongue. He sat up then, and moved her legs apart with his hands, so that he might kneel between them and set himself for the intrusion he would make into the valley.
Tenderly, he moved his hands around and pushed them beneath Lei's belly, her satin belly, so warm and sentient. She lifted her rear slightly, arching toward him just enough, so that she made room for the head of his cock as it braced to her labia, as it poised in the heated curling of her hair, at the lubricated gates of her waiting pussy.
Rush moved it into her from the rear, pushed it gently into her slot and felt it slide deeper, until his belly came down against her buttocks and his balls were snugged to her crotch. Good-good and easy moving, fine and warm and slick; she took it nicely, fitting it into her oily sheath and moving gently with him, slow-grinding with him.
Lei's head was turned sideways upon the pillow, and her hair had flowed away from her face, so that he looked down on her profile as he screwed her. He saw the oblique line of her cheekbone, the charcoal brushing of her eyelashes, the full shaping of her rich mouth, her chin, rounded and nicely boned.
He stuck it to her slowly, slippery and good, tenderly-juicy and fine; slow stroke and a pause with his belly rubbing caresses upon her ass; another slow thrust, and a rest with his sack fondling into that magic softness between her thighs.
She writhed beneath him, lifting her tail and rolling it, bringing both her hands around so that she could cup her own mound, so she could held her own pussy while he pumped it in and out of her.
Rush felt the vibration as she began to manipulate her mound, as she used fingertips to stroke her clit in a gently accompanying masturbation that kept pace with his rhythm. She moved her hands and he stroked her, and the heat built up in both of them, the growing hotness that presaged the climax.
They paused, seeking to delay the inevitable termination, prolonging the pleasure, interrupting the beat so that taut flesh might ease just a bit, so that the pulsing might slacken. He kissed her back, her nape, the side of her ear, and Lei smiled for him, her lips open against the pillow.
He slid back and forth in that good tightness again, played lovingly in that suctioning hot moistness, feeling walls and hair and lips, knowing the touch of the womb itself. Good, so damned good that he had to move just a little faster, so that he could feel more-and more-and more-Lei came, clamping down hard upon his pistoning rod and squeezing her buttocks together, shutting her thighs upon him. He lunged once more, drove it into her as he might drive a long, sharp spear.
And found the core of her as he spasmed the liquid into her receptacle, as he released the shower into her cupping place. Teeth on the nape of her neck, he gently shook her head as he relaxed upon her body that treasure of a body so softly made and cunningly scented.
"Oh yes, man," Lei breathed, her eyes still closed. "Oh yes, lover."
After awhile, they got up and went together into the shower, where they soaped each other's bodies, and felt with tingling hands, the curves and slidiness of the outer flesh, having so well explored the inner.
They rinsed and dried with large, fluffy towels. He tied back her hair and kissed her face all over, and they went out to the others, both of them casual and unconcerned in their nakedness.
"Join the party," Jan said. "But first we eat, so we can party later. You look wonderful, both of you. It must be the loving, or maybe even love."
Cleo wore an apron as she put together sandwiches, but that was all. She wore the spike heels she liked so well, and her legs moved extremely well beneath the short apron, her rear showing as she turned back and forth at the table. Those long, long legs, so lithe and shapely. Rush watched them as he might watch an art mobile, because the beauty drew him and he had to.
Jan brought him a big salad and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Sweet and lovely girl, young and filled with the bubbles of youth, she was a prize for any man. Rush dug into the salad and drank of the cold beer that came with it. He tore off great chunks of Italian bread and ate with gusto. The steak sandwich was anti-climax, but filling.
They laughed and chattered, kidded and once in awhile touched each other, perhaps not quite believing they were all together, all nude, and all loving. It was a nice, warm feeling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lei Ng was high, feeling no pain. She'd hung with the martinis after lunch until her mouth was a little loose and her face flushed. She got with the music, rocking and swaying in time with the record player, gleaming and bare, the shiny black triangle of her womanhood setting off an artistic balance to the penduluming of her long, black hair.
Her nipples were distended, almost black they were so dark against the luminous golden quality of her flesh. She was sweating, and the moisture sheened her skin to make her even more lovely, even more appealing.
Jan was sitting on the couch, her small legs crossed, her own pink nipples erect, her eyes fixed on the dancing woman. She'd downed two drinks, and they were also having their effect on the youngest Allison.
Cleo was on a stool at the bar, her long, slim legs curled around the stool legs in a manner that thrust the rich brown hair of her pussy out in a direct temptation. Slender girl, almost lean, she was precision made, symmetrically fitted joint to joint with a jeweled attention to niceties.
And here was Rush Scanlon, onetime pug, onetime con-now master of all he surveyed, the boss and only rooster in this harem of chicks. He felt like an emperor, a sultan; he felt on top of the whole damned world, and all the hard time in the prison, all the monkish training years, had been worth this moment.
Damn! They were all so beautiful, all so desirable, but he wasn't limited to a choice of one. They were all for him, all pliable and agreeable and ready to do anything he might desire.
He finished his drink and felt the slight numbness of his lips, the vague fuzziness that clouded his peripheal vision, and knew he was well on his way to getting smashed. All the edge should have been worn off him by now, all the horniness screwed out of him, but it wasn't.
He watched Lei writhe and bump in the contortions of her dance. He felt the rdid beat of the music, the hard rock flame of it. Rush was ready again, contemplating the manner of orgy that would most titillate him, for it was all spread before him, like a bounteous feast, all warm and ripe for him to feed upon.
Lei was ready to join the party now. Her eyes had been beckoning first him, then the Allison girls in turn, and he realized that she'd had to get high in order to swing with it, to go with the mood.
Cleo got off the bar stool and walked gracefully, nakedly, toward Lei. The record player changed from hard beat to a slow, dreamy ballad, and Cleo walked right on into his arms. Their breasts slid across each others, then fit together, overlapping and interlocking as their satin bellies touched.
Their thighs caressed, the pale ones and the golden ones; Rush stared at the soft blending of their pubic hairs, for they were about the same height, and their mounds came together-the gleaming black of Lei's pussy, the shining brown of Cleo's pussy.
Hands on the other's hips, they danced, bodies meshing, Lei's head on Cleo's shoulder. They danced around and around, legs sleek and eye catching, tails rounded and dainty. Their breasts moved in time with the music, in the beat of themselves, with the pulses that throbbed inside their acutely aware bodies. Eyeing them, Rush knew what was going to happen, knew that Cleo Allison and Lei Ng were already making a form of love, and that they would naturally move on to the final commitment, to the logical culmination. And he remembered how eager Cleo was, for the act of oral love, both as giver and receiver. He thought of the kicks Lei got out of it, too.
He thought also that the idea should somehow bother him, but it didn't. He wasn't in competition with any of the women, nor they with him. If they sought pleasure with each other, that was their privilege, their right, and he wouldn't even try to deny them.
They danced along, turning lovely about the room. Rush saw that Jan Allison's eyes were fixed hypnotically upon the other women, that she was also caught up in the flowering of their passions.
Now they had hold of the buttocks, leaning back so that the pelvis were shoved tighter, so that their high, full tits juggled the erectile nipples as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. Each tiny movement had turned highly sensuous; every touch was lascivious; every breath they took drew in the flavor and scent of a sharp lust.
Down they went together, as if at some signal unheard by anyone else, sinking fluidly to the floor in a lovely tangling of flesh and shapes and colors Rush went to the bar and filled his glass from the cocktail pitcher, staring down at Cleo and Lei as they sorted out their bodies and readied themselves for the act of love.
"Me, too," Jan murmured, her glass at his elbow, her eyes glazed, but focused upon her sister and the Chinese woman.
"Can you take it?"
"Sure, hit me again, as they say in Vegas. Look at them, Rush. Just look at them. They're so sexy and so beautiful."
"I'm looking," he said, and poured Jan a drink.
Lei was flat on the floor, her knees bent and lifted, her golden thighs spread wide. Cleo lay between them, grinding her belly into Lei's, kissing her and stroking her body with knowing hands. Lei rolled her head from side to side, and kissed her lower back. Rush could see the darting of tongues between their mouths, and he was caught up in the movements of their bodies.
Jan's hand fastened hard upon his forearm as they stood together at the bar, looking down on the love scene.
"Wow," she breathed, deep in her throat. "Wow, man-Cleo is going to go down on her. I never saw it made like this before. It grabs me, it really turns me on."
She pressed her thigh to his, and ran her left hand over his belly, down into his crotch, where his rod was beginning to turn stiff. But she never took her eyes from the woman moving on the floor.
He was almost as excited as Jan, he'd never seen this, either, and the picture of one woman teasing another, fondling her as a man might caress her, this sight grabbed him, too.
Lei wiggled and moaned, her teeth set and gleaming as her full, red lips twisted in the strain of her passion. Cleo was at her breasts now, kissing them, cupping them and moving her avid mouth from one nipple to the other as she nipped and pulled gently upon them in turn.
Down Cleo went, sliding and kissing, licking and tasting, down Lei's flexing belly, hesitating only momentarily at the belly button to run that darting tongue in and around. Lei moaned louder, gripping the carpet with her fingers and rolling her hips from side to side.
"Now," Jan whispered beside him, "now, baby-now she's going down on her." Her hand clung to his stiff cock, the other hand cupped her mound, and she was trembling. He felt tremors pass through her body to the hand on his prick.
On the carpet, Cleo plunged her face into the black, deep pubic hair. Lei stopped moaning, but the rasp of her breathing was loud, and her breasts rose and fell in a furious rhythm. She brought up her legs and crossed them just below the knees, crossed them around Cleo's shoulders, locking the brown head of the woman between her thighs, drawing her deeper into the act of oral love making she was performing.
Lei's hands came up also, and found Cleo's hair. She clung to it and rotated her pelvis, hunched and ground it on Cleo's face, screwing her head as if it was a man's prick she was riding. Cleo in turn stroked the lifted buttocks, the heaving belly, and made little moaning noises herself as she worked on the vagina, on the clitoris she was nipping and pulling open.
It was a wild sight, and Jan was panting at Rush's side, squeezing hard upon his rod, squeezing also upon her own mound, her eyes staring and her mouth open, her lips touched now and then by a quick, red tongue.
He helped Jan off the bar stool, pulled her hand from his organ, and drew her to the floor with him She was in a state of near catatonia, and he could manipulate her body, her limbs, as if she was some kind of doll.
So he posed her with her back to him, on her knees as she continued to stare hungrily at the interlocked women before her. Then Rush lay down on the carpet and slid forward on his back, so that his legs passed between hers, and she was kneeling just above his upright penis. Reaching up and taking her by her small, svelte waist, Rush pressed her down gently upon his cock. Jan flinched, and he stroked her tail, caressed her slimly rounded buttocks with his palms. She came down upon him, and he sat up to assist her, to help her take his meat into her always tight, always like a virgin sheath.
Into the lips it went, and Jan sat down just a little more. Hot she was, as ever, and oiled by her excitement. It pushed on up inside her vagina, and the quivering hot walls of it held him grasped in a muscular ring of velvet.
All the way; to the hilt, the root it went, locked into this tighest of all pussys, this child-woman's cunt that made each time he screwed her like a first time for them both. Jan sat down upon his crotch, and sitting now, he reached around and took her breasts in his hand, pressing the nipples in and letting them spring rigidly outward once more.
He could only hunch upward a little bit, her weight was on him, but Jan took the play and began a slow squirming that ground her tail against his pelvis and the length of her narrow passage upon his prick.
"Oh-oh look," she panted. "Lei's getting it. She's making it-oh, Rush!"
Rush looked. Lei was clawing at the carpet and flinging her legs about as she lifted her belly into Cleo. She cried out, a wordless, near mindless sound of fulfillment.
Jan shook and lurched upon him and came with a rush of hotness, a rolling, twisting flood of wetness as she let go with her fluids to bathe him, to drown him in the bubbled goodness of her inner self.
But he would not come in her, not now. Not so soon. He gently lifted her from his aching tool, slid it damply out of the small, sweet girl, and she rolled aside for him. He went to Cleo as she was lifting her face from between the trembling, golden thighs of Lei Ng.
Turning her over upon her back, he mounted her without preliminaries, going in between her legs and driving his prick strongly into her moist slot, pushing it into her with a steady pressure that seated him into her vagina to the base of his rod.
Smiling, Cleo brought those long, slim legs around his back and rolled up on her shoulders as he drove it home to her, pulled back and drove it home once more. She ground to his thrusts, lifted and hunched to his withdrawals, and moved from side to side with her ass.
Rush screwed her there, screwed Cleo Allison well, and she reached back to take hold of Lei's ankles. The touch tied them together, made them a unit of three parts, instead of separate entities. Rush laid the meat to that lush, brown box, hunched and churned it into that clenching pussy, reveling in the embrace of those lithely beautiful legs.
He dug the oneness of them, dug the holding of Lei's dark eyes as she stared into his. She was high on alcohol and sex, and he was far out on sex alone-no, on sex multiplied and overlapped by its common denominator of ecstasy.
Then, as he slid it back and forth in Cleo, Jan Allison came to join them She sat calmly at her sister's head, and stroked Cleo's hair, as the woman moved in the rhythm of the screwing.
And when Jan had watched their faces and seen the stepped up beat of their bodies, when she had heard the heavy rasp of their panting, then she leaned forward and took Rush's head between her palms.
She put her mouth to his, and ran her tongue inside to cavort upon his tongue, mixing her breath with his and her essence with his.
So then they were not three, but four. They were four enchanted lovers held in a magic grouping, locked one with the other in a mutual imprisonment of love-passion-desire-lust-love.
Cleo came, shuddering and moaning. Rush came with her, pumping and heaving inside her suctioning box, while Jan chewed lightly upon his tongue, while Lei stared sex into his eyes.
Four they were, and would because of this multiplication, never be ones again.
"Wow," Jan said after awhile, "oh-wow, wow."
She spoke for all of them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When the four hoods hit the cabin, Rush was dressed and so was Lei, because they'd been out walking along the ridge where the eucalyptus trees grew leaning away from the sea winds.
Two came in the front door, two in the back. They were quick and they were pretty damned good, but they hadn't come to kill, and that made the big difference.
They'd only come to take him, to wrap him up for somebody, and they came swinging blackjacks. Rush kicked over his chair and hit the floor rolling. A sap whipped through the air where his head had been and slapped the table with a loud whap!
Rush caught a chair leg and spun the chair into one guy, came up quick and low into another guy, butting him in the belly. He took a shot across the kidney from the second man, then butted him under the chin as he straightened up. Rush kneed the hood and wheeled him into another charging man.
Women were screaming, and he caught a flash of naked legs running, from the corner of his eye. With a swift motion, he pegged the martini pitcher at a guy's head, bobbed under a full armed swing with a blackjack, and hooked the man in the guts.
They were in a tangle, mixed up with the table and chairs, one down and another staggering. Rush moved in to punch a good combination at a dark head, and caught movement at his shoulder.
Something flailed him across the jaw, and he staggered off to the left, keeping his hands up and trying to clear his head. Glass and brown liquid flew around him, and a man yelped hoarsely.
Rush saw a face and nailed it with an overhand right; he caught another coming in, caught him good with a winging hook. Then somebody was pulling at him, yelling in his ear.
"Rush! Come on, come on! Hurry!"
His eyes came back into focus and he ran with her, out the front door and across the porch. She was in the big Continental and had the motor going when he reached the door. She slid across the seat and he hesitated."
"Hurry!" she said. "They'll kill you."
The other car was parked at an angle on the plateau, its rear wheels pointing down hill. Rush darted to it, reached through the open window and released the handbrake, yanked the shift out of Park.
It was rolling when he got back to the Continental and jumped in. He gunned the big car out of the way just in time. The black Mercury came rolling past, missing by inches, and gathered speed as it moved down the hill.
Rush had the Continental turned and following when the hoods came boiling out over the porch, yelling. One of them fired a pistol, but high. Rush gave the car some gas and it was right on the rolling Merc's grill as the other car went into the curve it couldn't make. He tapped the brakes and watched the Merc go over the side. It made a hell of a crash.
"That'll slow them some," he said, and worked the car down the twisting road until it reached the two-lane blacktop below. He followed that road to the highway, and wheeled out onto it, digging out.
"The stuff," he said. "Have to get to it, move it some place else-"
"The girls only know the general location," Lei said. "And maybe they won't tell. They were going out the back door, last I saw. If they kept running, they're up on the ridge somewhere, hiding."
"You stayed," he said. "Yes."
"You nailed a guy with a bottle, that's what all that glass was. You stayed and helped out."
Lei didn't say anything else, and Rush tromped the gas pedal. The big car leaped ahead. The Allison place, he thought. He felt like hell leaving the girls behind, but the hoods weren't really after them Maybe they wouldn't even chase them in the woods. Maybe they'd trot down the hill to a phone and call their boss to report the foul up-and describe the car Rush was in.
"You're right about the stuff," he said. "They'll have a tough time finding it, even if they know where to look. And they'll probably think I stopped for it, anyhow."
"Where are we going?" Lei asked.
"Lorna's," he said. "There's nowhere else."
The chauffer wasn't in sight when Rush parked the car in front of the garage. He went with Lei to the back door, passed through the kitchen and didn't see the cook. The house was quiet, no maids stirring, no music going.
"Doesn't seem to be anyone home," Lei said. "I'm cold. I'll go up and borrow some clothes from Cleo's room, something warmer."
Rush said, "I'll make some drinks in the playroom, and try to figure what we do next."
They separated, and Rush had a straight shot of bourbon at the bar. He found cigaretts and lighted one. Then he sat on a bar stool and thought about events, about the pistol that had gleamed up at him from next to the ice chest behind the bar.
The barkeep had started things into motion. From him to Geegee Fallo; from that slob to the attack at the cabin. How'd Geegee know where he was? The barkeep again, passing word about Rush.
I and Lorna Allison-or maybe that other slob, Kemp Ramsey. He knew about the cabin and the girls. He had a burn on for Rush, and his wife Cleo. For Jan Allison, too-since she wouldn't lay him.
But behind it all was the stuff, the heroin, the two hundred big ones it meant. Fallo may have sent word to his wholesaler, to some of the mob people, Rush wasn't so sure about that, though. The big boys would just move in and grab, leaving Fallo out in the cold.
And how the hell was Rush Scanlon going to keep the big boys from grabbing from him?
He heard footsteps, and turned to ask the question of Lei, only it wasn't Lei. It was Lorna Allison.
"I missed you," she said. "Pour me a Scotch on the rocks, and I'll tell you how much I missed you."
"Better yet," he said, choosing a bottle, "show me how much."
"That, too," she said, holding out her hand for the drink. "But first, tell me who hit you. There's a mark on your cheek. That bastard Kemp?"
Rush told her who, and filled her in quickly on the story of what happened at the cabin, of leaving the girls there.
Lorna looked serious. "They'll probably be all right. It had to be Kemp, after that crap he had my bartender pull. Wait, I'll call the caretaker in the canyon, and I'll send my driver up there. Maybe I'll send a couple of deputies, too."
She was gone, taking her glass with her, and Rush heard her dialing on the hall extension. He poured himself another drink, glanced down at the shiny little pistol, and thought about Lorna. He hadn't told her about the heroin, and wouldn't. There was no need for her to know. She thought her son-in-law was giving him the trouble, and he'd leave it at that. The social register Mrs. Allison wouldn't know about narcotics and hoods.
She was back in a few moments. "I called the girls. They're all right, just anxious to come home. I sent the caretaker up to check on them, and sent a car for them Lei is with you, then?"
He nodded. "Changing clothes."
"That bastard Kemp. That bastard Frankie Lamana. Him, I fired, Kemp, I'll break. He has money of his own, you know. I was in San Francisco arranging some things, buying some paper. It'll take a little time, but I'll break Kemp Ramsey."
Rush poured her another drink. "Okay, the hell with him, and here's to us. I missed you, too, Lorna."
"The girls kept you busy, didn't they? And Lei?"
Truthfully, he said, "It's not the same without you."
"You're sweet, and a lot of male. Are you certain you're in condition?"
"Certain," he said. "I'll show you."
"You do that, you just come around that bar and do that."
She had on a bright yellow dress, a miniskirted affair that hugged her small hips and snugged tightly around her shapely breasts. Her legs were bare, her tiny feet tucked into yellow shoes that matched her dress, and that had very high, thin heels.
She didn't get off the stool, but sat there looking up at him with her drink in one hand, with her heels hooked over the step of the bar stool. Golden woman. He always thought of her as that-rich and polished and blonde all over. A tiny woman, smaller even than her daughter, Jan. But every modeled inch of her was woman, voluptuous and amorous and beautiful.
He walked up to her and she opened her knees; the skirt slid up around her hips, and he saw she'd gotten out of her panties earlier. The golden sheen of her pubic hairs gleamed at him.
"I'll smudge your dress," he said.
"Tear it off."
He hooked fingers in the collar, where it dipped between her high breasts, those small, firm breasts. He jerked, and the thin material fell away from her gleaming body. Her tits jumped out at him, pink nippled, burnished. She looked ripe, and lush, and great.
He kicked out of pants and shorts, running his eyes over that fine, rich body as she sat there on the stool, her knees spread and her heels hooked over the step. A hell of a woman, bitchy and bawdy and so beautiful she hurt a man's eyes.
With a big hard-on, he walked right in between her legs and laid his cock up against her belly; the head of it reached almost to her tits. Lorna pressed it tightly against her belly with her hand. The other hand went to his neck and pulled his face forward for a kiss.
Her tongue was quick and hot, and her mouth was spiced with Scotch, as well as eagerness. Lorna's lips were mobile, and she was panting as her teeth touched his.
She withdrew to stare into his eyes, to push him slightly back, using his organ as a wagon tongue. Then she bent him down to insert the head of his rod into the rich, golden, curl hair of her mound.
He pushed it into her as she rolled up on her ass cheeks and lifted her sleek legs so he could drive it home deep and solid. He was all the way into that clinging pussy then.
His balls were tight between her thighs, resting on the top of the bar stool. His prick was up into her body, home in the hot glove of her vagina. Lorna put her legs up higher and crossed them behind his back. He caught her by her small, fragile hips, and pulled her cunt forward upon his stiff rod.
"You powerful bastard," Lorna said. "You strong, powerful lover man. Lay it to me like this, stick me deep and hard, lover man. Drive it home and screw me until I pass out."
He closed her mouth with his, then opened her teeth again to accept his tongue. He timed the motions of his tongue to the stroking of his rod as he slid it back and forth in that wondrous pussy, that tight and grasping pussy.
Standing with his feet braced against the carpet, with his hands on her waist, Rush laid it to her, plunged his rigid staff in and out of her suctioning slot, rodding her hard and deep. But still she wanted it harder and deeper; she hooked those spike heel shoes into his buttocks and urged him to rip her open, to bury himself entirely into her body.
He thrust into her, twisted it around so that she felt the rod, and the head, against the walls of her vagina, felt them rub slippery over her throbbing clitoris, felt that big, spongy head driving against the entrance to her womb.
"Bastard, bastard-bastard." Lorna moaned, and swung her tight, slim ass in violent circles, grinding herself into his pelvis and fucking as if she'd gone out of her head.
Lorna came in a wild spasming of thighs and a hunching of her belly. She raised herself completely from the stool and shuddered upon the hard penis that impaled her, writhing and flexing her pussy upon it. Her nails clawed Rush's back, her heels dug into his tail.
He kept right on stroking her, not giving her a moment's break, not allowing her one second to catch her breath and get her sexual balance. She was burning inside, hotter and softer, but he wasn't close to an orgasm yet, and screwed away at her when she tried to go limp, when she attempted to sag back and rest.
He stuck her and pulled back, so that her cunt almost released the head, only to drive it back up inside her with a long, twisting lunge that made her flinch, that hurt exactly as she enjoyed being hurt.
"Hold on, baby!" he hissed it against her teeth, hissed it into her gasping breath. "Hold tight, Lorna-I'm going to keep fucking you until you go out of your skull. It's good, isn't it? It's big and hard and reaching deep-don't you feel it touch bottom, baby? There-and there-and there!"
Rush pounded her pussy good, slammed his pile driver up into the hot box that was coming back to life, the sheath that was responding to his screwing once more. He felt it constrict on him, grab him and let him go, then nip him again.
"Uh-uh-uh!" Lorna grunted. "Oh-kill me-rip me up-jam me until I can't breathe. Oh, what a prick! Oh-"
She was heaving and bucking against him again, screwing him back as she met him stroke for stroke, and her heels were beating a tattoo against the metal legs of the bar stool as their rhythm sped up.
He felt her climbing swiftly to another climax, and this time hurried to be with her, to blend with her in that moment of supreme ecstasy. They hunched together in a mounting fury that brought them squirming and gasping to a mutual orgasm.
Rush stood with his feet apart, with his rod buried to the root in Lorna's vagina, letting it throb steadily with the spurting of his discharge. In turn, he felt the spasms of her cunt and the added lubrication there.
She lay her head against his shoulder, and the heaving of her chest slowed. The inside of her thighs relaxed, and her sheath loosened around his penis. He held it in her for awhile, letting it melt, soften, shrink in the heat and oiliness he liked best. A hell of a woman, Lorna Allison, and a hell of a lay. No wonder her daughters were so hot to go. They'd inherited their sex drives naturally, from Lorna.
When he at last backed from her, she sighed and lifted her head from his shoulder. After he moved from between her knees, she stood up and walked in her high heels behind the bar, her small, trim tail bobbing in naked seductiveness.
She fixed the drinks this time, and said to him: "You're in some kind of trouble, Rush? I mean, if Kemp didn't send those men after you, then who-"
"No trouble I can't handle," he said, wondering why she'd taken that turn, after being so certain about Kemp Ramsey before.
"Okay, but remember, I'm handy. I don't want anyone bothering you, taking your mind from your-avocation."
He laughed with her, and couldn't help being intrigued by the way her tits bobbled as she leaned over the bar. He'd never thought to ask about a Mr. Allison, but now he thought the guy must have gone out the hard way-being screwed to death. Or was that the easiest way?
Lei Ng entered the room. The clothes she'd changed into were a sheer scarlet robe and red shoes with heels as high as those Lorna habitually wore. Her hair was piled atop her head, adding I stature and giving her an aspect of sophistication.
She smiled slightly at Rush, and came to stand beside him at the bar. Lorna put a drink into her hand, and when Lei swiftly downed it, refilled her glass. "Well, Lei," she said then, "we've been waiting for this moment, haven't we? You and I-as always-and now our lover. The combination will be a most interesting one, don't you think?"
Rush blinked. Lei and Lorna and himself. Why the hell not? Lei had been making it with Lorna for some time, she'd admitted that, and the fact didn't shake him up any.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The women were making it together, coiled one around the other, one rose and ivory and a wealth of midnight hair, the other polished and golden, with burnished curls.
Rush watched them as he drank another highball, and it was better, wilder, than Lei's entanglement with Cleo had been, earlier. They were used to each other, and knew all the erogenous zones, all the tingling places to caress, all the spots that roused to greater stimulation.
They were beautiful together, sliding and twining in a knotting and unknotting of legs and arms, of breasts and the joining of mouths. Their hands cupped and stroked each other-mounds and buttocks and tits; bellies and thighs and backs. One Oriental woman, smooth and eager. One brightly Caucasian woman, sleek and hungry.
Rush stared at them, feeling their warmth permeate his own body, knowing the sensations of their lusts as the voyeur, feeling some of what they felt and sharing their intimacy. His own rod lifted in response, but slowly, not in full strength, and he waited for the power to return.
He would join them, then, participate fully in their sensual play, blend with both of them in a wild goodness that would be almost sharp as pain. Lei Ng and Lorna Allison-lesbian or bisexual, he didn't care. They were there for him, too, and he would share them as he shared himself with them.
Lorna moved up from between Lei's thighs, and lay atop her, moving sexily, mound fitted to mound, rubbing clit upon clit, and Lei wrapped her legs around the small, golden woman to make it better.
It was like watching one woman actually screw another one, Rush thought, for they made love intently, with a special fervor. They kissed, and he could see the darting of tongues between their mouths. They fondled cheeks and thighs, and from time to time, one of them would dip her mouth to a nipple, to like a breast, to pull a generous part of the globe itself into her mouth.
Slowly, they changed positions, and Lei was on top, thrusting strongly downward at Lorna's pussy with her own, now playing the male part as Lorna bucked beneath her driving. Lei's buttocks clenched and loosened, rose and fell, rolled as she imitated the male's strokes, and did a good job of it.
Rush's staff got up full, expanded to its complete length and thickness, and the head swollen and throbbing. He tossed down another drink to back him up, and moved away from the bar with his penis in his hand.
But he had to stand waiting above them as they suddenly changed ends and went into the sixty-nine position, holding to each others' spread thighs, their faces buried into slots, both of them wiggling and arching, both quivering and hunching.
They came together-moaning and shuddering, then stiffening out with their toes curling. He watched them relax and knew what he was going to do to them, with them.
Lorna lifted first, turning about and sitting up, her eyes still glazed with passion, her lips damply shining. He strode to her and stood before her, his rod outstretched. Then he took her golden, ringleted head between his palms and shoved his organ into her mouth.
She took it loosely, not yet adjusted to the move, a bit surprised, but he did not allow her a choice. He stroked it into her mouth, standing with his feet spread wide and his pelvis grinding against her chin when he had it home. He felt the shudder of her tongue and the smooth, hot velvet of her throat.
Lorna began to suck, began to respond, to come alive, and he hunched it to her as she pulled on it. But he was watching the girl who was sitting up beside Lorna as Lorna kneeled to blow him as he wanted.
When Lei rose to her knees, with that wealth of ebony hair hanging down around her face and covering her thighs like a rich tent, Rush pulled his rod away from Lorna and took one step to the side. He caught Lei's head and tilted her face up. He shoved the damp head of his staff on through the curtain of her hair and found her lips.
Without protest, she took it into her mouth, her hands coming up in reflex to cup his scrotum. He stroked it back into her throat, and she laved him with her tongue.
But he would not hold it there, would not bring himself to a complete orgasm with Lei, not yet. He changed back to the waiting Lorna, and pumped it into her mouth in turn, moving from one to the other of them, as he had done with vaginas.
They seemed to be competing with each other, each of them struggling to make him come, each clinging to his rod as long as they possibly could, sucking and licking until he knew he couldn't restrain himself much longer.
When the power of the oncoming orgasm rushed through his nerve ends to gather in his distended glans, he had it in Lorna's mouth, and he held her head clenched as it exploded far back in her throat. She did not flinch or attempt to withdraw, but took it all, draining him completely.
He was suddenly weak in the knees, and Lorna still didn't want to let it go, even though he tried back out of her mouth. She held him there, mastering him, gripping his organ lightly between her teeth and flexing her cheeks.
Lei stood up, lithe and lovely, pushing back her long hair and reaching down for the sheer scarlet robe. She still had on her high heel shoes.
Rush finally had Lorna let him go, and picked up his slacks. He was into them and sitting tired upon a bar stool with his pitcher of martinis at his elbow for rejuvenation, when Lorna said something low and soft to Lei, and left the room, left the scraps of her yellow dress still spilled on the floor where Rush had spread them in his earlier eagerness.
Lei lighted smokes for them both, and he poured her a drink. She said: "Okay, now you know how it is with Lorna and me. It's not love, but something else damned near as hard to kick. I-I never have played the guy with anyone else, and I've never wanted to go down on another woman."
"I understand," he said. "Lorna makes people do a lot of things they hadn't thought of. I don't put you down for it, Lei. I dig her, too. She's like some narcotic in the blood."
"Yes," she said. "Like narcotics. Rush-oh Rush, I-I'd like to break it off with Lorna. I would, I will, if-if you just take me with you-anywhere."
"The stuff," he said. "We have to get the stuff and sell it, first. Money, Lei-a lot of bread-to buy the ranch and stock it and dig in up there in the mountains where nobody will ever bother us. Money-it takes money, and there's where it is-in the stuff, the heroin."
"Rush," she said, "Loma Allison-I think she has something to do with narcotics."
He didn't really hear her, or if he did, couldn't quite comprehend what she was trying to tell him.
Lei tried again, cutting into his description of the dream ranch, the place in the high hills that had comforted him during the long years in prison. She said, "Rush-Lorna knows people connnected with the dope traffic."
She didn't have time for any more, because the playroom filled up with people. Two guys came in at the French windows and blocked them. Two more fanned out from Lorna Allison as she led them into the room-tiny, golden Lorna, dressed demurely in a black slacks outfit. There was one more man with her, and Rush stared at the guy.
Geegee Fallo.
It couldn't be anyone else. Rush knew the ugly face too well, and knew the scars his fists had dug into it.
"Be sensible, Rush," Lorna said. "The girls told me where you stopped, and people are out there searching Wildcat Canyon right now. Sooner or later they'll find the right rock pile."
Rush watched Fallo, glanced to right and left at the man stationed by the windows. "So what do you want from me?"
Lorna smiled, a lovely woman, a determined woman. "Save us the trouble, Rush. There's a lot of money involved in the stuff you took from the Bianca. It took Geegee awhile to realize you must have it, but then, Geegee has never been really bright."
Fallo grunted something that Lorna ignored.
"A thousand dollars," Lorna said. "That's better than getting your head beaten in."
Rush spat at the bar. "Shit. You suckered me all the way, didn't you? You waited for me to come out of Soledad, set me up at the bar-even with Lei-"
"No," Lei said.
Rush moved quickly around behind the bar. Nobody else moved until Lei came around to join him. Lorna said, "That won't help you, dear. Three thousand, Rush-but that's the end of haggling. I have many expenses."
"There's something else you have," he said. "I've been back of this bar before, dear. You have a gun back here, and a phone."
"You're becoming tiresome," Lorna said.
He picked up the little belly gun, a shortnosed .32, and lifted it over the bar. "Lei-pick up the phone. Call the cops and tell them what's in Wildcat Canyon, what's under the bridge. Up on a girder, Lei-tucked high and dry where a steeplejack or a damned fool will have to climb for it."
"Geegee-" Lorna snapped.
Fallo turned and Rush shot him through the calf of his right leg. The whap! of the belly gun was startlingly loud in the room. Fallo fell over on the floor and grabbed his leg.
Rush moved the muzzle of the .32 back and forth. Nobody moved. Lei said things quickly into the phone, and asked the cops to switch her to the FBI.
"Rush," Lorna said. "Look-ten thousand, twenty-that's pure heroin-"
"You stopped haggling," he said. "You, by the window! I'll stick a bullet through your fat head if you move again. Lorna, there's nothing left now, not a damned thing. The cops will be out there in one hell of a hurry-state police, the FBI-"
Into the phone, Lei said loudly, "That's right-a fortune in narcotics, and hurry, please."
"You bitch," Lorna said. "You Chinese bitch."
"Damn, damn," Fallo said from the floor. "Do somethin', I'm gonna' bleed to death right here."
"I'll do something for you, Lorna," Rush said. "I'll let you turn around and go out the door. You ought to be able to get to San Francisco and a hotshot lawyer before the fuzz."
"I made a mistake," Lorna Allison said. "I thought you'd soften and give in easily, after awhile, with me, with the girls. But Lei had something to do with it, didn't she?"
"Everything to do with it," Rush said. "You'd better hurry, Lorna. You'll notice that Lei hasn't hung up, that's so the man could hold a trace on the phone, if he needs it."
Lorna shrugged and walked around Geegee Fallo. She didn't look back. The man at the right hand window ducked out of it, so did the one at the left window.
That left two guys and Fallo. The two men hesitated.
"Take the bastard with you," Rush said. "He's leaking all over the carpet."
They were gone, and his hand shook when he put down the little pistol. He took a deep, deep breath, and let it out noisily.
"Wow," Lei said.
"You know it," he said. "They spooked. They didn't expect a gun."
"A fortune in narcotics," Lei said. "I sounded like an old Charlie Chan movie."
"You're not sorry?"
She shook her head. "Bad joss, heroin, nothing good ever came of it, man. The money would have burned us somehow. And she wouldn't have given you any, really. Not all that much, anyhow. I'm glad you turned it in. I'm really glad, Rush."
He poured them both a drink, then he hung up the phone. He said, "But what now? What the hell now?"
"That place in the mountains," Lei answered. "I like that idea. Look, man-I saved my money. It's not a lot, not like two hundred big ones, but twenty ain't bad. Twenty thousand dollars to make a down, or whatever it is you do to buy a ranch."
Rush stared at her. "You-you'd do that for me?"
"For us, baby. How many more years can I bump and grind? And it won't be lonesome there, not with you."
It was enough. It was more than enough, if they took it easy and worked up from a small herd, got a couple of good bloodline horses and a few whiteface cows-
"Just like that," he said. "You offer me your life's savings, and are ready to kick all this-" he made a motion with his glass, "-this loot and swinging and such-"
"It's not like I was kicking it all" Lei said. "There'll be times to swing-even out in the boondocks. I mean, you and I understand about our sex drives, our needs. We'll work it out. And all this? I can always say how I was a big show business star, and gave it all up for you."
He grinned at her. "Get dressed. We'll get the hell out of here. Big star, hey? I liked the bit about the Charlie Chan movie better."
She winked at him from the doorway. "Sure-clever people, we Orientals."
She left to find her clothes, but she'd be back. Now he knew she'd always be back, and the thought was a good one.
