enovel Orgy Script Tony Calvano [Future Story Codes]

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Orgy Script ....(102k)    by Tony Calvano

PASSION MATES!

It was the wildest, lustiest mother-daughter act in history: Tenli and Vera, who would entice and take on all male comers, in any grouping or arrangement-separately or together. The unbridled orgies that raged through their passion mansion were a Hollywood legend, and when there weren't enough tireless studs they pulled out their concealed cameras, developed the film they had shot, and enjoyed a private lust party of their own making, all properly recorded from the gardener's young son to filmdom's richest magnate. And after they got their kicks from the movies, there was the next step-blackmail. Yes, they were quite an evil team, this mother and daughter, and Jay Starr found out too late that he was the central figure in their twisted drama, that he had two evil sin demons riding his back, driving him to hell....

CHAPTER ONE

It was hot that afternoon in Los Angeles. A suffocating, muggy heat that helped empty the streets. An uncharacteristic heat that was made doubly unbearable by the way that the smog closed down, made the sky a shimmering metallic bowl. Smog that burned the eyes, plugged the nostrils, that left acid, gagging residue in the throat.

And still the brooding, somnolent Pacific did not bestir itself, sent no relief in the form of a cooling breeze.

Caught up in an insufferable vacuum, boxed in by the hills and mountains surrounding the city, plagued by creeping heat from the deserts to the south and east, the city sat and sweltered that June afternoon, waiting, waiting-While all the time the blanket of smog overhead seemed to get thicker, to press down upon the "City of Angels" even more sadistically. Until it seemed the city's puny, helpless inhabitants were caught in a steel box. A box whose torrid walls were slowly, unrelentingly closing in from all sides. Growing smaller, smaller-

It is climatic conditions like these that trigger violence, that set off irrationality, that spur the basest impulses and desires. That push people headlong over the precipice of abnormality.

But in the fabulous house on Beverly Glen Boulevard in the fashionable Bel Air district of the city, the two-hundred thousand dollar establishment formed of steel, concrete and glass which had once belonged to Brent Holder, internationally known film star, it was not hot, it was not stifling and close. The furnace breath of summer could swirl and eddy, could batter against the walls of the massive, elite house, but to no avail. For the efficient air-conditioning unit kept such inconveniences as heat at bay.

And yet, caged in this artificial climate as she was, the very sullenness and perversity of the weather outside seemingly charging the mood inside, the pink-clad female, barely twenty-two, a lovely brunette, was very obviously on pins and needles.

She wore a figure-hugging ensemble of coarse silk, shot through with rough threads, all but porous, her firm, vibrant breasts stretching the pink fabric, forming strained folds that emphasized the sharp peaks of those twin baby mountains. Her buttocks and legs were poured iato matching Capri pante, almost a second skin, a garment that complemented her pneumatic, grinding buttocks, that gave her legs and thighs, her flat, trim belly a cat-like glitter.

More disconcerting was the fact that the woman wore a black brassiere and panties beneath the getup, undergarments that were blatantly visible through the sheer material of the lounging blouse and pants. Shadowed panels of evil fascination that would trap and forcibly hold any male eye fortunate enough to behold the voluptuous creature this afternoon.

Which was at the bottom of Tenli Cardwell's nervous irritation that afternoon. For there was no male admirer. She was, to all intents and purposes, all alone in the sumptuous, luxuriously appointed living room. And to a tigress like Tenli, this wasn't a good situation at all.

The ravishingly beautiful face was disfigured by a frown, the lush, ruby lips tense and pouty, the dark brown eyes angrily darting back and forth in the shadowed room. The admirer of this young face might be struck by a mixture of impressions. For on the one hand, despite her agitated state and her glaringly sexy clothes, she looked rather child-like, her eyes and face exuded virginal innocence. If she'd wanted to play ingenue she'd have no trouble whatsoever.

But then, seconds later, as the light hit her face from a different angle, as she furiously ground out her cigarette in an ornate tray, there was a feral cast to her expression. Her eyes turned to deep, unfathomable pits, gave insight into a willful, egotistic personality. Subtle though it was, there was still something evil, something of knowledge beyond her years in that gaze, a glitter of stygian intensity. And then it was gone.

The face and eyes were calm and composed once more. They reeked of babyish innocence.

The switch, so expert and sudden, might give anyone of an observant nature a bad case of shudders. Wanton and virgin combined, visible and invisible-the full spectrum probed in the blinking of an eye.

The woman-child whirled now, came away from the closed drapes, deserting her peephole onto the distant street. Her body swayed opulently as she minced across the thick, airy carpeting, the heels of her silver lame pumps digging deep. She came to a free-form cocktail table, retrieved her half-empty glass, drained the rest of the gibson in a single swallow.

Then she fell back into the long davenport, pure white and devilishly soft, stared vacantly at the ceiling. A minute later she was pacing again, impatience and boredom darkening her face. Immediately she went to the bar and refilled her glass. Momentarily she glanced about the large room, saw distinct testament to her ennui.

Magazines were scattered all over the floor, the TV was on, a panel show going full blast. And even more ridiculous, records, jackets and sleeves, were strewn all across the room's far end. The stereo hi-fi rig was blaring out Henry Mancini.

Somebody was definitely at loose ends.

She was returning to the davenport when muted chimes announced that someone was at the back door.

Instantly Tenli's face became animated, and she hurried to answer, thinking as she walked that a maid should be standard equipment in a house like this one. A thought that was as quickly dismissed by the temporization that a snoopy maid would be the last thing in the world she and her mother could use about now.

They were loners for a good reason.

Finally, almost slipping on the polished tile of the rear vestibule, the slip partially attributable to the three drinks she'd already downed, Tenli reached the back door, opened it.

Instantly her heart sank. For, standing there, dressed in a neat white T-shirt, cotton wash pants and loafers, was Billy Esser. The son of Matt Esser, the man who cared for the Cardwell grounds and gardens, a small, rather shy boy of fourteen.

"Billy?" she said, stunned abruptly by the hot wash of air that hit her as she stood in the door. "What is it?"

"Ah ... I...." Tenli saw his eyes take in the glittering lounging outfit, saw them zero in on the sun-glared cones of her boobs. Then his gaze fled away, and he swallowed quickly. The black brassiere and panties beneath, now clearly outlined by the harsh daylight, were too much for him. "Ah ... Dad sent me over to mow the lawns, but the shed's locked. I forgot the key-do you have an extra one?"

It was Billy's eyes, the way he gaped at her body, that gave Tenli the idea. If he was old enough to look, he was old enough to do more than look, she thought. A strange, evil enchantment went through her. It would be fun, she concluded. She'd never tried it with a kid before Anyway, not since she'd been a kid herself.

An instant plan presented itself, and she slowly fell against the door casing, arched her body in a provocative pose. Her eyes grew scheming and lazy. Then the look turned to sultry invitation. What was the harm? she alibied. Vera was upstairs resting, she wouldn't be down for hours. It would be kind of a public service. If Billy hadn't been broken in yet, it was about time. And what better teacher to be found than she?

"I don't know, Billy," Tenli answered breathily, her own excitement getting the best of her. "I think it's around here somewhere. I'll have to look. Come in, won't you? Don't stand out in that heat."

"Ah ... yes, ma'am." He entered, closed the door behind him. "It is a hot day."

For a moment they paused in the soft intimacy of the foyer, let their sun-seared eyes accustom themselves to the gloom.

Tenli's directness was further testimonial to the amount she'd had to drink, to the monumental boredom possessing her. As she made no pretense whatsoever of looking for the key, but instead guided Billy Esser directly to the living room. Where he paused in awe, taking in the rich surroundings. And more realistically, took in the wonderful things that were going on underneath the pink silk caging Tenli Card well's body.

She turned off the TV, then wheeled, gave Billy a particularly inviting smile. "It's too hot to mow the lawn," she said. "You'll roast out there today."

"It's gotta be done, Miss Cardwell, heat or not. I got two other jobs tomorrow. And if I get behind..

"Your father sounds to me like some kind of a slave-driver. To make you go out on a day like this."

"Aw, he's all right. He's only trying to keep ahead of things. Ah ... Miss Cardwell...."

"Call me Tenli. Don't let's stand on formalities."

"Tenli...." he forced. "You said you had a key?"

"La a minute, Billy. You're not in that much of a rush, are you?" She moved barward. "Would you like a drink?" She teased him. "A martini, perhaps?"

He smiled self-consciously. "No, I don't drink stuff like that. I'm just a kid. Besides, I gotta get going...."

"Take a Coke anyway," Tenli called, furtively pouring a shot of whiskey into a medium-tall glass of Coke. She carried his glass and hers toward the davenport Then she returned, drew him into the room.

"Over here," she said, "sit beside me. So we can talk. You can spare me a minute, can't you?"

"Well, I guess so...."

For the next ten minutes Tenli talked fast and furiously, making small talk, trying to cover up the real purpose for her sudden interest in the boy, all the while trying to figure what tack her eventual seduction should take.

"I'll bet you have loads of girl friends," she said. "A good-looking boy like you. I'll bet the girls at school really go for that wavy hair of yours."

"I don't fool with girls much. Not yet anyway. I just say hi to 'em. Girls can get a guy into trouble."

"Some girls can get you into trouble," she corrected, appraising him more avidly, finding that she actually had an intense desire for him. He was a good looking boy, though on the small, slight side, he had clean, healthy skin. Her hands trembled slightly. She'd bet her newest mink he was still virgin. "Don't judge all girls by what some girls do."

He was almost finished with his drink. "Yeah, I guess that's right." He looked at his glass quizzically. "Say, did you put something in this glass? It tastes different. Kinda strong or something...."

Tenli smiled. "No, Billy, I didn't. It's just a new type of Coke, that's all." Her hand came out slowly, grazed his. She openly stroked the back of his wrist. "Would you like another one?"

"No, Miss ... I mean, Tenli. I gotta get outside and do that lawn."

"But it's so hot," she slurred, keeping up the steady stroking. "Wouldn't you rather stay in here with me? Talk to me? Maybe have another drink?" She leaned against his shoulder, let him breathe in her perfume. "How about it, Billy? Just one more Coke? I'm lonesome, it's nice to have someone to talk to."

"Oh, all right," he said. "I'll really have to hump when I get out there, though."

"That's a good boy," she said. Then she made a production of crossing the room, feeling his eyes on her sliding, thrusting buttocks all the way to the bar.

And ten minutes later, as the whiskey crept up on Billy Esser, did its insidious work, there was no further need to seek excuses or subtle openers. Tenli merely came closer to him, slid her hands on his arms and chest with insinuating pressure. "You're such a handsome boy," she smiled, "I'll bet you have dozens of girls crazy for you." Her hands became more arousing. "And so strong too."

"I'd better go out and mow the lawn..

"Later," she purred. "Stay, Billy, stay. Stay with Tenli." Now she slid even closer, poised her lips less than a foot from his. "Stay, stay," she continued to chant.

"Miss Cardwell ... Tenli, I...." he protested, panicking finally, realizing that something very strange was going on in this room, wondering at the lazy bussing in his head, at the other heretofore unexperienced things that were happening to his body. He felt so very weak and funny.

"Wouldn't you like to kiss me?" she sighed, looking directly into his eyes. "Wouldn't you like to kiss Tenli's soft, warm lips? Her red, pretty lips?" She lapsed into a hypnotic chant, talking to the boy like he was a baby.

"I, ah...."

"Kiss Tenli," she persisted. "Kiss her. You know you want to kiss her .." Her bands rose, twined behind his head. "She won't mind. She'll iet you...."

Inch by inch, she drew the frightened boy's head down to hers, stopped at the crucial moment, let him close the final gap himself. The bewildered kid only touched her lips with his, a fleeting peck, then drew away.

"No," Tenli giggled. "Not like that. Not like a frightened little rabbit. Kiss me like a man. Like this."

Then she was crawling all over the boy, driving his head back into the cushions, her hands trapping his face, her lips drilling into his. Grinding and twisting, pressuring hotly, fighting the terror, the resistance still at large within the boy. Until at last, he went limp, he tentatively brought his arms up. put them around her waist.

"You like Tenli, don't you?" she whispered when they broke. "You liked doing that with Tenli, didn't you? Kissing her and holding her?" Her eyes flared licentiously. "Maybe other things?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, unable to look directly at her. "I've never done...."

"You've never even kissed a girl before?" Tenli pounced upon the admission gleefully: he was a virgin!

"No ... I told you. I'm just a kid. I...."

Tenli moved in with abandon, throwing all caution, all discretion to the winds. She wanted him. She wanted to break him in right, to be his first. His scorching, back-breaking first. And if she had to rape the scared little creep herself-

Her lust became rampant within her. A scalding desire, a hunger for sensation. Nothing would stop her now.

"Then you've never had a woman ... a girl, in your whole life? I mean all the way? Like a man has a woman?"

"No ... I'm scared of stuff like that. Girls always scare me."

"Do you know what men and women do? Hasn't anybody ever told you about the birds and the bees?"

The boy flushed furiously. "I ... I heard some of the guys talking, some of their jokes."

Tenli smirked victoriously. "And that's all?"

"Aw, I saw a guy and his girl in the park one night. I listened to 'em. But it was dark, I couldn't see much."

"And would you like to find out? With Tenli?"

"No, I...." His face was a bewildered mask. "I ... don't know. My dad told me it's not right. Not until you're married. I...."

The words died on his lips, his eyes widening, as Tenli, moved by a terrible urgency, began undoing the buttons at the back of her blouse. As now, she languorously pulled it off her shoulders. "Please, I...." he gulped one last time.

Then the blouse was dropped to the floor and Tenli shook her breasts loose to accustom them to freedom once more. Now she arched her back proudly, bringing her breasts to surging piquancy. The dull light glistened on the black satin, looked almost like frenzied fingers, squeezing, stroking, pinching.

Tenli looked at the boy with smoky gaze, feeling her entrails knot as she saw the sick look on his face. God, it was going to be good, she thought. "Okay, honey," she said. "Come ahead. Come play with me, with my boobs. My pretty boobs-they're all yours."

But he sat in wooden indecision, made no move.

"Well c'mon, darn you," she snapped. "It's free."

"I ... I...." Then he blurted out the awful truth. "What do you do?"

Tenli broke into delighted peals of laughter. "Oh you baby," she comforted him, "my little baby. You mean you don't even know what to do?" She came closer, flung herself upon him. "Billy. Billy boy. Come here. Let me show you. I'll show you everything you need to know."

For long moments, she hovered over him, grinding her lips, her hardbound breasts into him. Her tongue sallied forth, probed his mouth. Dumbly the boy permitted the excess, his arms encircling her body, holding her close, his legs shaking in uncontrollable spasms. He didn't know what was happening to him. But one thing he did know, and that was that he was helpless to turn back now. Anything this crazy woman told him to do-he'd do.

He was seized by the most maddening desire to encase this newly aroused masculinity, to submerge himself in this female's soft warmth. It was as if he'd known what had to be done all his life-

Finally, her hands exploring Billy's body in a frank way, Tenli saw he was ready. Any more ready, she thought, and she'd be too late. It would happen before she got any good out of it at all. "Here," she commanded, turning her back to him. "Take off my bra."

She giggled at his fumblings, encouraged him in a breathless, eager way. "Hurry, Billy. My pretty Billy. They're aching for you. Hurry, you little cherry I"

Then she was on her back on the davenport, her knees up, her silver, dagger-toed shoes digging into the white fabric, her legs spread to accommodate the light, trembling figure sprawled between them. "Hold them, squeeze them. That's it, that's it. Oooh, baby boy! Not so rough! Be gentle, Billy, gentle."

Her body writhed, her legs clamped about his narrow hips. "Oh, Billy, now. Kiss my breasts. Take them. Take the nipples. Kiss them. Oooh, Billy boy, Billy boy, Billy boy...." Her hands came up, guided his head alternately to each breast, held his lips to each nipple until the savage, pagan fires were extinguished.

"You lover, you lover," she gurgled. "Baby lover, lover, loverloverlover. Whee ... !" And her hands caught in the material of his shirt, pulled it from his trousers, began to rub his hard, smooth back.

While the boy, caught up in a hysteria the like of which he'd never dreamed existed, went completely out of his head, wallowed in the feverish pain ballooning deep in his belly, lent himself totally and forgetfully to each and every variation, beyond surprise, beyond shame now.

There was only the molten, liquid heat inside his body. Only the magnificence of those two glorious globes, those berry-tipped sundaes. He couldn't get enough of them.

Thus he didn't think it strange at all when the whimpering, gibberish-spouting female let her hands slide between them, undid his buttons, his clothing. When she snaked his pants down his hips, taking his shorts with them at the same time. He knew a gorgeous hotness then, starting when her hands crept between their bodies, and she found and held him.

"You little devil," she chuckled, "you are almost a man after all, aren't you? Almost a man...." Her ecstatic croonings drove him further from sanity. And his lips and tongue went wild.

Until Tenli could stand no more. Realizing she was on borrowed time so far as the lad was concerned, she push events forward. "On the floor," she groaned. "Kneel on the floor, honey. Take off my Capris. I'll tell you what comes after."

Docilely Bill rolled away from the lush, hot body, knelt as he was told. Following her directions, he undid the snaps and zippers that helped mold the pink silk to her legs and waist. ".Kiss me," she sighed as the slacks were dragged off her. "My ankles. There, no down, that's it. Oh, that tickles. That's right. Kiss Tenli again. Like that. More, more...."

The boy hovered over her ankles, kissing and clutching, doing exactly as she said, not at all abashed by the fact that he was naked himself.

Tenli lay sprawled on the davenport, dressed in only her black, lace-heavy panties, the mysterious delta of herself beneath the sheer nylon shimmering, luring him to further and further wildness. "The panties, dolly," she choked. "Take them off now."

Billy Esser did as he was told. Humbly and willingly. There was something to come, and though he wasn't quite sure of what it was, he wanted to in no way jeopardize his chances of attaining that magnificent finality.

Glancing up from the boy, Tenli saw the image of her body, of the extorted attentions the boy was paying her, reflected in the huge six-foot-long plate-glass mirror across the room. What if Mother were-? she thought. For long moments she studied the pagan charade that was taking place in the mirror. Until other things distracted her.

"Kiss Tenli, darling," she directed huskily, caught up in the sexual fantasy. "My ankles. Yes, like that. Baby, that's good, good, good. Lower, lower. My legs now. On the sides. Yes, there, beside my knees. Mmm, that tickles, but such a good tickle. More, more. Now come up higher. Here, by my fingers. Follow TenU's fingers. They'll lead the way. Follow, follow...."

And utterly beyond himself, the boy did as he was told. Like a good soldier, he followed. Even to-

Now the fingers twisted in his hair, held him in a hurting, unbreakable grip. Until at long last-

"My tummy now, Billy. My breasts. Oh, hurry! I feel like I'm melting inside. You lover, you darling little lover. Kiss, kiss. Oh, Billy! Kiss, kiss, kiss...."

The forced adoration went on and on, the female glorying an her power over the boy, the boy lost in a whirlpool of emotions he was far too young to cope with.

Until at long last-

The boy found himself on the cushions of the davenport, he found himself kneeling over the primitive woman, submitting to her frenzied strokings and clenchings. At last she was satisfied, and lent herself to the next event.

"Listen, Billy," she choked, all but sobbing in her own aberrated need. "You do just as I tell you. Understand, just as I tell you. Everything...."

And the boy found her hands pulling and guiding him, he found her belly rising to meet his, he felt the expert and incredible union. And for the first time in his life felt totally complete. This was the meaning of things. He had reached eternal harbor. He was yearning toward his imminent manhood.

Then he felt the pressure of her legs twining about his, he felt the lurching, jarring thrusts of her belly, the stab of her nails-spur in the small of his back-clawing, clawing, clawing.

Almost reflexively he began to answer her frenzied motions, he felt an unholy pain and hotness compound deep within his body, seemingly scooping him out, sending his vitals forth in a blurring catapult thrust.

Momentarily he knew fearful confusion. As he heard the woman screaming and sobbing beneath him, caught tip in awesome agony. But when he tried to untangle himself her legs clamped him tight, her nails raked his back. And she erupted into a new fury, making him feel small and helpless, like he was riding a maddened bronco.

Then finally, amidst a cacophony of female shrieks for more more effort, all formed into a melange of sounds in which his own pained, yelping cries were very prominent, it happened. And Billy Esser, age fourteen, male-virgin-first-class, was suddenly and cataclysmically demoted.

And be knew, for the first time in hie life, what all those locker-room jokes meant, reaHy meant.

"Could I see you again? Tomorrow?" the boy asked, standing at the door, fully dressed again. "I ... that was wonderful, I ... If you could only know how much...."

Tenli, lying in naked disarray on the davenport, smiled scathingly. "No, baby. That's it. No seconds. Now you know what it's like, you go out scouting for your own from now on. See if you ever find another girl as good as me. You liked it, didn't you?"

"Yes," he intoned softly. "I liked it."

"Then say thank you."

"Thank you, Tenli."

"You're welcome, baby. And it's not Tenli now. It's Miss Cardwell. You remember that."

"Please, Tenli," he pleaded, his face crumpled in despair. "I'll do anything you say. Anything! If only you'll let me ... again."

"No!" she snarled. "That's all you get, understand? Now scram out of here, or should I call your dad, tell him you got fresh with me?" She rose, started toward him. "Get out, damn you! Before I start screaming bloody murder!"

A very baffled and frightened boy wheeled, bolted down the dark hallway. Seconds later the door slammed, and Tenli heard the rattle of his heels on the driveway. She stood peeking between the drapes, an ugly smirk painted on her lips, until Billy had faded out of sight down Beverly Glen Boulevard.

Then she turned, went stiff with surprise as the massive mirror on the other side of the room rolled aside on silken tracks, to reveal a cubbyhole secreted behind the wall. A cubbyhole jammed with shelves upon which camera equipment of every conceivable variety was racked. Standing on a tripod was a large, very expensive motion picture camera.

Behind which stood a smirking, tall woman, clad in only a white brassiere and panties. A blonde woman, perhaps in her mid-forties, still lovely, her body firm and arrogant, who gazed at Tenli with a fixed smirk on her face.

"Vera!" Tenli gasped. "How did you...? What'n hell do you think you're doing?"

The stately blonde smiled sarcastically. "You're getting pretty hard up, aren't you, kitten? When you have to take on little boys?"

"Damn you, Mother!" Tenli snarled. "Talk about dirty tricks. How did you get down here?"

"I heard you talking to someone. So I came down and peeped." She shrugged toward the one-way mirror. "When I saw what was cooking, I thought it was too good to miss. This was something for posterity."

Tenli yawned, stretched. "So? It's a slow day. I had to do something to kill time. What do you plan to do with that film? You can't shake down that poor kid. Unless you're going in for nickels and dimes now."

"Sheer novelty value," the blonde said. "We can show it at one of our parties sometime. I know some psychos who'd go ape over that kind of trick."

"Vera, sometimes I wonder about you."

The older woman pulled a catch and still another panel opened in the wall. She stepped into the living room, closed the panel. She pressed another spot in the wall and the mirror slid silently back into place, leaving not the slightest clue as to what really lay behind that wall.

"What's with the underwear bit?" Tenli asked, going to the bar, mixing a fresh drink.

"No time to dress," Vera Cardwell said. "I didn't want to miss a single golden moment." She came beside her daughter. "Lord, I wish that kid'd come back. I could use a little novelty stuff myself. Though, God knows, there isn't much you didn't teach him." She shivered. "That watching gets you. I got the itch something awful."

"Vera!" Tenli teased, "how you talk. Is that any kind of example to set for your innocent, demure daughter?"

"Demure, hell! You're about as demure as a Tijuana tramp. The things you made that kid do...."

"All in an afternoon's fun."

"Fun for you." She took Tenli's drink, sucked greedily at it herself. "We gotta go cruising tonight. Go into Hollywood, look up something exciting. I've got to get my ups."

"Yes, Mother," Tenli said, feigning dutifulness. Then she broke into loud, mocking laughter.

CHAPTER TWO

The name of the plush night club was LeBaron's and it was located on Sunset Boulevard-or as the Angelinos so fondly call it-"The Strip". In recent years, the nickname has become more and more apropos, as the entire street, club by club, has been relinquished to the body cultists. Make no mistake, the strippers have taken over.

As definitely was the case at LeBaron's that Friday night, where an apparently non-stop display of the best ecdysiasts in the business went on from nine until the wee hours. And in Los Angeles the birthday-suit buffs get their money's worth, for the girls are, without a doubt, the loveliest in the world. Which certainly should be the case considering the tremendous backlog of beautiful women Hollywood has to draw on.

"Glamour Mecca of the Nation," that's Hollywood. Those who aren't in the movies are flashing flesh, and those who aren't peeling in public are selling it in private. As for the rest-they're on trains and planes heading back to Missoula Junction.

Which brings us back to LeBaron's.

Where a man named Jay Starr occupied a table near the back of the expensive nighterie, nursed a Scotch and water, cast an indifferent eye at the parade of near-nude cuties who pranced across the night club's stage. He felt twinges of pity for the rubberneck tourists who filled the stage-side tables, rubes in for one night who thought they were really living high. A pity that was dimmed by grim remembrance that a scant five years ago he'd been down there with them.

But time is a great teacher.

He was at LeBaron's tonight for something entirely different. He'd seen acres of flesh in his time; these queens, lovely as they were, held little charm for him. He knew many of them by name, had slept with almost that many, and if you were to put pencil and pad before him. Jay Starr could undoubtedly plot their rise and fall, their itinerary of clubs during the past twelve months.

Take the little blonde onstage at the moment. The dish with the bouncy, exaggerated melons, the hand-clenching fanny, who was at the moment plucking sequins off those bouncy breasts, throwing them at the delighted jerks in the front row. Her name was Sondra Devellis, she was barely twenty, she was stupid as the day was long, and her breasts were the product of certain surgical procedures currently the fad in Hollywood.

Jay Starr had shacked up with her for three weeks straight when she'd first hit the big town, before deciding to ditch her. She was a swinging parcel-anything a man could want-between the sheets. But there comes a time when a guy has to get up. You can't stay in bed all your life. And out of bed, socially and intellectually, Sondra Devellis was an absolute zero. He wouldn't even consider representing her any more.

And so she'd gone through the past two years, from agent to agent, from casting flunky to casting flunky, looking for the big break, willing to bed down with almost anybody who'd dangle the slightest hope before her vapid eyes. In a way she was lucky to be a stripper-lots of gals much smarter than Sondra had ended up much worse.

No, the skin artistes didn't make it for Jay Starr.

The reason he haunted Sunset Strip tonight was simple and basic. It had been almost two weeks since his last "adventure." And after all, a man is a man is a man. Stuff, in big caps, was at the top of his list this eve. There was always a fresh crop of hopefuls, green beyond belief, floating up and down Sunset. He firmly intended that before two a.m, he'd be tucking one of these innocents into his bed.

Thus his eyes roved the crowd at LeBaron's, sorting and rejecting, finding very little promising talent in the murky, smoky confines of the club. He'd hit three other spots thus far-Cyrano's, Villanova's, and The Largo-but had sclineidered in all three. If something didn't turn up soon, he'd have to go the "summer rerun" route, perhaps even revert to the little black book. Which was, to Starr, a fate worse than death, for it there was anything he hated, it was warmed-over sex. To him there was nothing as exciting as a new girl, nothing as dull as that same girl five minutes after they were done with things.

Jay Starr had been around; he was nobody's fool.

Perhaps, he thought at times, he'd been around much too long. And what was the point? If nothing got to him any more, why the big deal?

Jay Starr was thirty, a not handsome, not homely, not craggy-featured, not effete sort of a man. Thin, rangy and dark-haired, standing five-eleven in his Inter-wovens, there was an almost ferret-like intensity about his eyes and mouth. He was thin because he was constantly on the move and forced himself to certain disciplines. There was a certain gauntness in his cheeks that made him appealing to women, a burnt-out quality about him that made them all want to become confidante, mistress, wife and mother to him. All of which Jay Starr traded upon outrageously.

Perhaps they saw some sadness, some tragedy beneath those heavy brows, in those penetrating brown eyes. An abiding hurt that only they could heal. And if that regenerative cure meant they should climb into the sack with the tormented Mr. Starr, then they were willing. What better reason for a woman to sacrifice her virginity-or whatever tattered remnants of purity they still retained? He was a lost soul, and couldn't they help him regain his equilibrium? And perhaps in the bargain coast into a steady job as Mrs. Jay Starr?

All of which he happily encouraged. Yes, he needed help. If only someone could really understand him-at any rate, until they'd at least finished up three quick matches of Bedroom Backgammon.

Then-rots of ruck. And see you around, kiddo.

There was a tragedy in Starr's life, but not such a tragedy that it still unduly influenced his life six years after. True, an unfaithful wife is bound to turn almost any man cynical, especially when that husband had been scrupulously constant himself, had wound his life so trustingly about that of his wife, had been indescribably happy and complete with her. At any rate until-

The only real tragedy about his beloved Maria's betrayal had been the fact that he'd never once suspected. If he hadn't been so stupid, so gulled-

There had been an impending opening in New York, and he'd flown there on behalf of Ronnie McMasters, to spread the good word, lay the groundwork for a favorable reception for the rockabilly singer. All of which came under the heading of press-agentry, $3,500 per, plus expenses, McMasters being only one of six lively clients, and small potatoes at that time. He was to have been gone for two weeks, but he'd cut it fine, had come home three days early. They'd lived in Beverly Hills at that time.

Intending to surprise Maria, he'd come around the back of their house quietly, his door key at ready. Only as he'd taken off his shoes preparatory to mounting the steps, he'd heard the hi-fi softly playing in the darkened house. And moments later a throaty, male chuckle had floated out on the summer air. In that instant his sugarcoated world had crashed down about his ears.

Too sick to move, he'd huddled outside that bedroom window, had listened to the whole event, had heard his wife commit variations with the stranger that he hadn't dared dream she even knew, and which certainly, he would never have broached, much less tolerated. While he'd listened, he'd heard Maria extol the man's proficiency, downgrade her own husband's sexual prowess. The sordid bout had gone on for a long time, seemingly forever.

Even nowadays, six years after, when he wanted to really pitch a good one, all Starr had to do was relive those moments, inventory the foul, stomach-turning things Maria had said to her lover, had done for him, had let him do to her. That tore it every time.

He hadn't burst in on them that night, he hadn't raged and attempted to beat them both to a bloody pulp. Instead he'd crept away from the house, had lost himself in the vast wasteland of L.A, in the end shacking up with a bangtailed Polack waitress, who even took sick leave to prolong her lost weekend with the crazy stranger. Wanda, her name had been. And if ever there was a natural-born athlete-

The private investigator had come next. And within a month he'd caught Maria at a motel with her lover-a different man this time, incidentally-had banged in the door with expert haste, giving his photog time for three fast shots of the twosome still locked up in that eternal knot. Faces, fannies, everything.

The divorce was no trouble. No trouble at all.

But afterward, there was nothing to put into the vacuum Maria had left in his life. Work helped for a while, and Jay's agency had flourished. But when that had turned pointless, he'd reached for a bottle. That and the nearest handy set of boobs. He hadn't stopped reaching for two years.

A roller-coaster ride, non-stop-all the way down. Not to say that the reformation had been a complete success. Part of Jay Starr was now gone that would never be replaced. He'd come back, but not without scars. Granted, he'd been able to regain some of his minor clients, even scare up a few new ones, but the word got around, and the year when he'd gross $50,000 would never come again. A fifteen-grand year nowadays was cause for a national holiday. Mostly he was lucky to break ten G's per.

Not to say that Jay Starr's skill in the "flack" racket was impaired. This simply wasn't the case. He could still plug a property with the best of them, and had on several occasions been asked to come in with other Hollywood agencies, each offer promising five-figure salaries.

The truth of the matter was that Jay Starr was drifting, leaning with the punches. He was single, more or less under control now. Ten thou could see him through a year very nicely. The drive was gone. Disillusioned as he was, he could see no point in banging out his brains for the almighty dollar. After all, did wealth guarantee happiness, health and long life? Did wealth guarantee that you wouldn't come home some night and find your wife in bed with another man, playing the vilest sort of games with him?

Jay Starr was content with his lot. He was content to drift, to take it one day at a time. After all, what more was there? Maybe someday something would happen to change him, maybe he'd meet a woman he could believe in, a woman who'd give his life vital purpose once more. But even if it happened, it would be sheerest accident. He wasn't looking, he didn't believe in Santa Claus any more.

But until then-

There was always Friday night.

Now, all at once, memory of Maria, of that night outside their bedroom window snowballing inside him, Starr felt some of the old rage regenerated. Who'd think, after all these years, it could still affect him like this? His hands shook, and he picked up his glass, drained it. Then he signalled the bikini-clad waitress for a refill. Shove it, man, he adjured himself, trying to glaze his mind. Don't get on that kick again. It'll get you nowhere. Forget it, do you hear? Forget.

It was at that moment that Tenli Cardwell, her mother, Vera Cardwell, and an unidentified male entered the large, oval-shaped room, took a table not more than fifteen feet away from Jay Starr. And seeing Tenli's fresh, self-assured beauty, her poise and innocence seemingly charging the air about her with electric current, he found it quite easy to forget someone as tawdry as the cheating Maria.

Suddenly Jay found it hard to keep his eyes off the trio at his right. He tried to mask his interest with a blase expression, keeping his eyes front, supposedly taking in the show. After all, he was no grunt; he wasn't about to start staring down gals in night clubs.

Though his eyes were mostly for Tenli, he couldn't help but be impressed with her female companion. She was a blonde, tall, cool, she had a magnificently proportioned and pampered body, and he adjudged her to be in her mid-thirties. Which estimate was only about ten years off target. There was aloof arrogance in her bearing, and yet, upon closer surveillance, there seemed to be an almost common cast to the face, a country-girl coquettishness. As the liquor she drank took hold, she became more vivacious, smiled more easily, took complete charge of her small circle. Jay never would have suspected she was Tenli's mom.

She threw back a sable stole to reveal pretty, smooth shoulders, a sweeping throat and bosom. Her gown was exclusive, and like Tenli's, black, simple, cut in a daring line across her breasts-and yet, strangely enough-still managing to affect some sort of modesty.

Class like that takes dough, he mused, loads of it.

Briefly he took in the man with the two women, dismissed him as a creep. He was tall, even taller than the blonde, thin and dark in an unappetizing way. If Starr's guess was anywhere near correct, the man was an abnormal. If not that, then some other brand of weirdo. His glistening, pompadoured hair, his foppish clothes, the way he laughed and tossed his head was a dead giveaway.

Now Jay devoted the rest of his attentions to the young girl, seemingly borrowed warmth from her quiet, yet ravishing beauty, from the aura of child-like naivete that almost radiated from her. And yet he recognized it as sham; the girl was traveling in fast company, she knew the score all right. With a capital S.

Her cocktail gown was figure-hugging, revealing even in the subdued room, a body that was firm and taut with no trace of fat anywhere on it, the shadows on the shiny fabric something evilly voluptuous, giving the girl a heart-stopping sensuality no girl her age should have.

Her legs were clad in smoke-toned hosiery, her exotic, high-heeled slippers giving them an exciting fascination, causing Starr to shiver briefly at thought of running his hands up those silky ankles. All the way up.

And he further wondered what bad hit him. What kind of magic did this ingenue possess that she could cast this spell over so jaded a person as he was? Was it simply her beauty? Or was it the contrast between her seeming worldliness and the far-off, elusive innocence that hovered about her mouth and eyes?

Whatever it was, he knew his interest was definitely piqued. He wanted to know this nymphette better. Even if she proved to be a one-nighter. And he caught himself staring at her for longer and longer periods of time. Once she raised her eyes unexpected, caught him staring. Their eyes locked and it was Jay who broke the stare first.

And he felt the fool. But, nevertheless, he tried figuring an angle whereby he might approach their table, banteringly introduce himself, in some way be invited to join them. But now, when it was so important, his mind refused to cooperate. He drew a complete blank.

It was perhaps five minutes later, as he sorted through several possible openers, that he was interrupted by one of the waitresses. "Pardon me, sir," she said, "but this party on the right wonders if you'd care to join them for a drink?"

"Uh ... what?" Instantly his eyes swept over, saw the blonde smiling broadly, waving him on. The man smiled also, but the small brunette seemed totally disinterested. Instantly he sensed caution. What kind of game were they playing? Then he shrugged. It didn't matter. He'd bug out if things got too complicated. He smiled uncertainly, rose from his table.

"You look like an interesting man," the blonde chattered gaily as he sat down next to her, "and I never miss any chance to meet an interesting man." She sent him a pretty moue. "Interesting men are rare. And besides, you seemed so lonely over there. I hate to see anyone drinking alone."

It was a corny routine, and should have fallen flat on its stagy face. But no-with the blonde it came off perfectly; she had just the proper amount of aplomb and warmth to make it seem sincere. She actually made Jay believe she went around picking up lonesome strangers all the time.

"You're very kind indeed," he said. He checked the glasses before the trio. "May I order another round?"

"No," her eyes flashed. "I didn't invite you over to cadge drinks. This is my party." She sent a glance to her escort. Instantly he waved a waitress over.

Introductions were in order. "This is my daughter, Tenli," the woman said, "and I'm Mrs. Vera Cardwell. My husband's dead." She hurried over this. Jay was shook. These two beauties were mother and daughter? "And this gentleman," she continued, "is Mr. Rex Quinel."

"Jay Starr," he replied, shaking hands with Quinel, the man's soft handshake, his too eager welcome reinforcing earlier conclusions Jay had made about him. He was a weirdo from the word go.

In a fairly short time, Starr finally insisting on buying a round, the awkwardness faded, and their conversation became easy and amusing. After all, Jay's line was selling people on' himself and on his clients. Once he had his foot in the door. It was go-go-go all the way. His confidence grew as it became apparent that he was charming the two women, Vera Cardwell especially. The drinks helped too.

"You say you're a press agent, Jay? That's very interesting. Are you a good one?"

Jay was honest with her. "On occasion. I have my good and bad days. I'm not looking for new clients, if that's what you're getting at."

"Mmm," she said, impressed. "Then you are a top-notcher-if you can afford to turn away business. What firm are you with?"

"I'm an independent."

She became persuasive, rubbed her finger along the back of his hand. "I don't suppose I could coax you to represent me, could I, Jay?"

"In what capacity?"

"I've got an interest in a beauty shop. Over in North Hollywood It's a ritzy, expensive place, but it just isn't getting anywhere. It needs something-perhaps you could help revive the corpse."

"Perhaps I could. You say it's in North Hollywood? What's the name of the place?"

It seemed an almost strategic intervention, as Tenli interrupted. "Please, Mother, I'm sure Jay didn't come out tonight to discuss business. We wanted to enjoy ourselves, remember?"

Vera smiled, sent Tenli a warning look. "Vera," she corrected her daughter. "Not 'Mother.' How many times must I remind you?" She turned to Jay Starr.

"I'm sorry, Jay. Tenli's right. This is no time to talk shop. Some other time. I'm sure this won't be a chance meeting. We'll certainly get to be friends, won't we, Jay?"

"I'd like nothing better."

Afterward, Jay was to wonder at the way that Rex Quinel sat so silently throughout that particular phase of the conversation, staring into space, smiling that secret smirk of his. Either he was stoned, stupid or spiking up. But he certainly couldn't believe that someone as intuitively intelligent as Vera Cardwell would be running with a junky. It had to be something else.

Whatever it was became more evident with every passing minute, as Quinel became extremely jittery, kept signaling to Vera with his eyes, nudging her with his elbow. Until finally, perhaps an hour later, she rose, gathered her wrap about her shoulders. "I hate to impose, Jay," she said, "but I wonder if you'd mind seeing Tenli home? I'm sure I can leave her in your capable hands. Rex has just reminded me of an appointment I'd forgotten. I'm afraid my little baby would just be a drag. You don't mind, do you, Jay?"

Appointment? Jay snapped inwardly. What kind of appointment do you and this creep have at one in the morning? But he concealed his chagrin, smiled blandly. "Not at all, Vera. It would be my pleasure."

At the end, Rex Quinel was all but dragging the reluctant Vera Cardwell from the club.

"You'll have to excuse them," Tenli said softly. "Mother's been going with Rex for quite a while now. He gets to thinking he owns her." She finished her drink. "Shall we go?"

"Sure you wouldn't care for another?"

"No, thank you. I've had quite enough." She chuckled. "After all, I'm still a growing miss. You wouldn't want a sick girl on your hands, would you?"

"No, I guess not." He took her elbow, guided her through the tables, feeling a stinging current go through him as he touched her soft, warm flesh. What did this girl have that made him feel like this? "Out this way," he said. "My car's in the lot."

Jay got only a fleeting glance of the house's exterior as they drove up the long drive, but he was visibly impressed. In the land of hundred thousand-dollar homes, this one was something special. "Your mother does very well, doesn't she?" he said as he braked, killed the engine. "This is a very beautiful place."

"Father left her well off," Tenli said. "He was in oil investment." She shifted on the seat. Instantly Jay was out of the car, opening her door. He caught a revealing glimpse of a very lovely leg as she slid out.

Tenli stood before him, small and straight, looking so lovely in the shadowed light, that Jay felt a pang of hot affection spear him. It had been a long time since he'd sensed such an emotion. "Would you like to come in for a minute?" she asked. "I can offer you a nightcap. Mother has a very nice bar."

"I thought you couldn't stand one more," he smiled.

"I'm home. If anything happens to me here it won't be any great tragedy. C'mon."

There was soft music, persuasive and relaxing, which, combined with the muted lighting, with another drink, with the loveliness of Tenli so near at hand, turned the spacious living room into a most enchanted, intimate little world all their own.

As if entranced, Tenli heeled off her pumps, stood before Jay in her stocking feet. "Dance with me, Jay?" she said sleepily. "Just once? Then you've got to go." The heat burgeoned within Jay's chest as he gathered her in his arms. They danced slowly, their movements almost fragile, as if an abrupt twirl or dip would shatter the mood like so much crystal. "Mmmm," Tenli sighed, snuggling closer, laying her head trustingly on his chest, "this is nice. So peaceful and relaxing. I'll sleep like a log tonight." Jay couldn't help noticing how slurred her words were.

And then, savoring the moment to its fullest, caught up in what seemed a sleepwalker's trance, he splintered the mood. Impulsively, losing control, he held Tenli tight to him, bent her back, brought down his lips, kissed her fiercely.

And knew instant panic as Tenli recoiled slightly, fought his arms. Still he held the kiss, refusing to let her go. While fear swamped him. This wasn't what he'd planned at all. He hadn't intended to make this pitch for three or four more dates yet. Tenli was no tramp; she had to be treated with kid gloves. And now he'd ruined it all-just because he had to go losing his head.

But a strange thing happened. For, greedy to continue the kiss, he forced her mouth back to his repeatedly, held her in a vise-like grip. Gradually her resistance ebbed, and she went limp in his arms, her lips went soft, parted, welcomed the kiss. Her breath came rapidly, small shudders sweeping down her back.

"Ohhh...." she breathed. "Jay, you shouldn't." Bui in direct contradiction she pressed closer, offered her lips anew. "But it's nice. You make me feel so strange."

As they kissed now her lips were sweet and fevered, they answered his in eager passion. Her body twisted into his, as if unable to get close enough to him.

When they broke she hung heavily in his arms, her eyes closed, her breath coming in deep, wrenching gasps. Jay recognized the symptoms; he'd seen too many women in the throes of sexual desire to be mistaken about this one.

"Tenli?" he wavered, fearing her answer, yet helpless to stop things now. "Darling?"

"Yes," she whispered sibilantly. "Yes, Jay."

And he lifted her, carried her to the massive davenport, laid her on her back. She smiled in timid confusion, closed her eyes. Went totally supine and limp.

For a long time he kissed her, kneeling on the floor beside her, the sexual need a rampaging whirlwind within him. He was beyond the point of return. Then, as he poured torrid kiss after torrid kiss to her, he discovered his hands at her breasts. And more astonishing, he encountered no resistance on her part whatsoever.

Slowly, very slowly, he peeled down the front of her gown, built-in brassiere and all, bared her opulent, ivory breasts to the dim light. Gently he lowered his head to the stone capped nibs, began kissing them.

Tenli was convulsed by a savage shudder, and her hands rose, twined in his hair. "Yes," she whimpered. "Yes, baby, yes...."

CHAPTER THREE

Things went completely out of control for Jay after that. His mind refused to function in any rational sense of the word. There was only this exotic delight, only the compulsive surge toward gratification-his own and Tenli's. There was no time for doubts, for temporizations of any kind. It was as if every segment in his brain save one-that concerned with matters sexual-had been hit by a thunderbolt and now lay in smoking, charred ruins.

They were alone, Vera Cardwell wouldn't return for hours-or so Tenli insisted-he could and would take his will with this gorgeous, sex-inspired female. That, and that alone, mattered. He would have her, she would have him. And woe unto anyone who got in their way now.

"What's happening to me?" Tenli wailed in an uncomprehending voice. "Why am I acting like this ... letting you do this to me?" She held his head even tighter to her throbbing breasts. "I know it's wrong, that I .shouldn't. And yet...." She sighed in throaty pleasure. "That's good, Jay, so good. Don't stop. Not even for a minute."

For long moments she lay in rhapsodic sufferance, her hands playing in his hair, her arms trapping and releasing him as his lips went crazy on her .breasts. "Baby, baby...." she moaned in thick helplessness.

And then, seized with incredible desire to adore the lovely innocent, Jay pulled away, fought her fervid hands. Kneeling in the thick pile of the carpet, he let his eyes minister to that lovely body, he let them rove over her beautiful face, let them wander down that graceful throat. Until they reached the crinkled nipples.

"Oh, don't, Jay," she said, feigning embarrassment. "Don't look at me like that. Come back, kiss me, love me. But don't look. They're cold, baby, so cold. Come back."

"No," he intoned, his eyes not deserting those lush globes for an instant. "Let me enjoy you. You're so beautiful, Tenli. Your body, your breasts ... they mess me all up inside." Deliberately his hands slid up her stomach, circled and caressed the silky flesh. His fingers spiraled about the nipples, causing them to constrict even tighter, haloing them with an iridescent light as the flesh around the nipples went taut, seemed stretched to paper-thin transparency. "Lovely, lovely," he said.

His lips came to them anew, his hands trapping each nipple, guiding it in turn to his eager lips. While Tenli, driven to frenzy by the attention, fell back, writhed in pure enjoyment of his adoration, small whimpers breaking from her throat.

"Oh, Jay, don't think badly of me. I'm not a wanton tramp, believe me. I don't act like this with every man ... there's only been one other. I don't understand it myself. It's just something I can't control. I'm not a tramp, honest I'm not. I'm a good girl. Only tonight...." She eerily wailed the rest: "I just don't know what's happening to me."

"Don't, Tenli," he soothed. "It's not your fault. It just happens. We should enjoy it, follow it through right to the end, that's all we can do."

"I do enjoy it," she rasped. "Like I've never enjoyed it before in my life. Oh, Jay, you're a man, all man. Don't stop, sweet, I don't want you to stop."

His lips deserted her breasts, slid down to her belly. Where they encountered the bunched folds of her gown. When he tried rearranging it, Tenli became impatient, pulled herself up on the davenport. "Take it off, Jay!" she seethed. "Now! I'll suffocate in this thing." Angrily she began to pull and haul at the dress.

Jay stopped her. "Let me, baby." And his fingers expertly opened the snaps and zippers. With practiced care he slid the gown over her head, taking the half-slip with it, making an arousing production out of it, savoring the slide of silk on silk, of silk on milky flesh. Suddenly Tenli was trembling anew, her legs clenching together, rubbing in sinuous movement against each other.

As the gown came away and was discarded, she was revealed in only an exotic black girdle, panties, garters and hose. Which Jay moved immediately to strip away.

But Tenli forestalled him. Despite the fact that she'd had many lovers in her young life, had entertained an aberrated fancy only that afternoon, she was enjoying the session with this stranger more than she cared to admit. The man knew refinements; he was gentle; he was an artiste when it came to loving a woman. She wanted to prolong these overtures, she wanted to make them last and last-Vera and Rex and their camera be damned.

It made it even better in her perverted philosophy to know that someone was watching.

"No," she sighed, "not yet, baby. Don't hurry this. If we've decided ... if we're going all the way ... we might as well get all we can out of it. Come here, darling. Come kiss me again. Love me like you do...."

And as Jay fell upon her again, Tenli drew herself up, caught him in her arms, fought him into position at her breasts. She drove her silken knees beneath his waist, formed a brace for his shoulders. Now she leaned forward slowly, teasingly offered her breasts to his lips inch by inch.

"Sweet, sweet," she moaned, her arms holding him away at the last crucial moment, delighting in the inner surge of Jay's body as he strained to reach the hard nipples. "I don't want this to ever end." She held Jay's head more tightly, taunting him, holding his lips inches from her nipples. "You do want them, don't you? And I want you to have them. But not yet. Wait. Let me hold you a little longer."

But Jay Starr couldn't wait. His head darted up, his tongue flicked out, barely grazed the convulsed flesh. Again and again. "Oh, please...." he begged.

Tenli shuddered uncontrollably, couldn't withhold herself from the miracle of his hot mouth any longer. "Take them, Jay," she sighed. "Take them-they're all yours."

She pulled Jay's head upward, poised her body so he could find each breast easily. And as she held him close, the insane music within her crescendoed and re-crescendoed.

"Jay, darling," she wailed. "Never stop. It feels like someone's driving needles...."

Finally Jay wanted more of Tenli. He couldn't bear to have the frantic desire swelling inside him restricted in any way. He wanted to be free to move over her lovely body in all directions at once. It was one of those moments when he wished he had more than two hands.

"Please, baby,"

"he said, fighting Tenli's hold on him, trying to free his head.

"Stay, Jay, stay," she begged, reluctant to have him leave, in her hysteria almost afraid she would never feel the delicious draw and release of those lips again.

Then Jay was stretched full-length beside her, his hands roving feverishly over her velvety body, over her breasts, over her belly, along the smooth line of her firm, silky legs. Sighing quakingly, her body racked by a ragged pulse, Tenli capitulated, lying docilely, permitting, all but screaming for his intimate, exploratory touch.

For an instant, overcome by his need, Jay twined his clothed legs around her nylon-swathed ones, held his hard male body to hers with crushing force. The carnal embrace maddened Tenli still further, and she clung to him with clawing fingers. "Please, please," she called, desperate to have him finish things, and yet unwilling-wild to forestall the final ecstasy as long as she could.

His hands went wild on her belly and thighs. And now, while his mouth consumed her breasts, one hand slid further, touched her, fought its way inside her girdle and panties. "Jay," she choked. "Oh, Jay."

Now his mouth abandoned her breasts, crept up her arched throat. To her lips. And deep in frenzy, Tenli sent her tongue flicking into his mouth, let it wind and probe until he answered her, the reciprocation sending further spasms cascading into her loins.

Until now neither of them could wait any longer, and drawing her lips from his with a wet smack, Tenli called, "Help me, Jay. Now. I don't know what's going wrong with me. All I know is that I want you. Please, get undressed. Come finish things."

Jay stiffened. "Shouldn't we ... in the bedroom?"

"No, right here. I can't wait. Hurry, dear. Get your clothes off. Then come strip me, all of me...."

Woodenly, his ardor cooled momentarily, Jay pulled himself from Tenli, stood a few feet from the davenport, And despite the twinges of suspicion he felt, he did as instructed. His shirt and tie. His belt and-

He was surprised when Tenli sat up, watched him with dark, sultry interest. "You're handsome, baby," she cooed. "So handsome." She shifted. "But I can't see you, it's so gloomy in here. Turn on that lamp. The other one too. I want to see you. I want to touch you."

A shudder swept Jay. "But ... I was just about to turn out the lights." What's with this kid anyway? he thought. With the lights on yet? But when he hesitated, her eyes darkened, became stormy. And rather than queer his chances, he did as he was told. Talk about nuts-While on the davenport Tenli fell into an indolent, classic pose, her legs straight before her, her languid arms above her head, the pose bringing her breasts to explosive thrust, making the nipples stand erectly. Hungrily she watched Jay undress, thinking simultaneously how grateful Vera would be for the extra light. Now she could step down, she could get a sharper picture. Expensive though her lens was, sensitive as the high-speed film was, those dull shots still needed laborious, special processing.

She glanced toward the mirror when Jay wasn't watching, stuck out her tongue at it. I hope you're getting all the kicks you can stand, both of you, she snarled to herself.

The light burned Jay's eyes at first, but gradually he became accustomed to it, even felt a modicum of gratitude for it. For now he could see Tenli's gorgeous, white body more clearly, the ivory of her flesh contrasted so excitingly with the blackness of her stockings and girdle. Her nipples looked like large, red cherries. And Tenli's eyes-intense and amoral-who would have believed that a mere kid like her could get it so bad?

"Hurry, Jay," she encouraged, her gaze not leaving his body for a second, an extension of her sexuality, sparking an anticipation of the most deranged kind deep inside her. After that Billy kid that afternoon, she needed a real man. A man with all the necessary accessories, with a built-in knowledge of their use and care. Again she squeezed her legs together. "Come undress me, please."

Frantically, his own breath snagging, Jay sat beside Tenli, rubbed her nyloned legs for long moments before he finally rolled down her stockings. Then the girdle was withdrawn, to reveal black panties of the sheerest possible nylon. Panties which concealed absolutely nothing.

"You like me?" she wheedled. "Do you really like me, darling. Hurry, take them off. I want you so badly."

"Yes," he breathed, the words reverent. "I really like you. You're beautiful, Tenli. More beautiful than I have words to describe." His hands tremblingly coursed over the firm smoothness of her panty-clad belly, stroked and cupped her. Became cruel.

Tenli winced, spat a small groan. "Please, Jay. Don't hurt me. Be good to me." And as he released her, she gritted, "But soon, baby. Soon!"

Their hands twisted and fought each other to pull off the last remaining garment.

For a long time Jay poured over her body kissing, caressing, touching and probing. While Tenli was caught up in a spate of desire, and ground her buttocks into the silky upholstery of the davenport, her hands stroking Jay's chest. Now his waist and hips. And then-

"Now?" he said. "Can I turn off the lights?"

"No," she answered using her all consuming passion for excuse "Leave them There just isn't time. I need you so badly. Hurry, honey, please hurry!"

Their union was a fluid, beautiful, almost instinctive motion, almost as if the two had been lovers all their lives. Both bodies moved in concert, with small pausings and writhings as the critical moment approached. Then Tenli twisted her hips, clenched her knees, raised herself an inch or so. Released a thick sigh as Jay took over, consummated the nearness. "Baby, baby...." she called. "Oh, but you're good."

And again, as Jay started to slide his body up and down against hers, feeling her with him, she began the old refrain. "Believe me, Jay, I'm not a bad girl ... I'm a good girl ... I just can't help myself tonight."

"It's all right, Tenli," he comforted her. "I understand. I believe you. You are a good girl."

A terrible pressure expanded behind his eyes, seemed to bloat his brain as his need became full-blown. Briefly he shut out Tenli's protests, let some of his old cynicism leach back. Yes, honey, he thought. You're a good girl. Real good. Any better and I'd go out of my mind. Good? You're spectacular. Any girl who can put out like you do-

Which was more truth than acidity. For Tenli was supremely proficient in her love-making. There was a metronome inside her head that ticked off perfect cadence. A cadence which she met with unerring skill. And her legs rose, locked behind those of her lover, her arms clawed him closer. Until, as her first climax neared, and an incredible heat was stoked behind her eyes, she strained her body upward, dug her teeth into the man's shoulder, nipped and ground, her first eruption of screams smothered and incoherent.

There was a second when her torso missed a solitary beat. Then she clenched her legs tighter, clawed his back, regained the lost tempo, went on climbing up to an even more sublime release, wondering briefly at the fact that it was always the next one that seemed the best.

And the one after that.

The pressure in Jay's head became more and more intolerable. This, mixed with the scorching pain he felt in his shoulder as Tenli all but ate him alive, caused him to groan and curse, to fight to void pain. But in a most singular way.

And he held the small body tighter, drove himself in pile-driver strokes to her, pumping with frenzied, ceaseless speed. Each stroke was met, answered, rewarded by the fantastic involvement of the precious child-woman-each stroke begged for repetition of sensation. Faster and faster he moved, Tenli matching his every exertion, almost as if she could anticipate each plunging move.

Until-at long last-the pressure departed, his brain went surging through his body, constricting his muscles in small, then giant waves. It was replaced by an exultancy, a joy, a raging desire to announce his victory at the top of his lungs. A desire he hadn't known for many and many a year. Usually at this point in his relations with all those other women it had been a mere voidance, a mechanical purgation that must, of necessity, be taken care of lest certain pipes become rust-clogged.

But this-with the deceptive Tenli-was something else again.

"God, God," he was groaning. "You devil, you little she-devil! What are you doing to me? It's good, it's good. Better than...."

He didn't finish. Instead he groaned mightly, spat a single curse into the air. His body went stiff, a murderous constriction transforming and paralyzing him.

While beneath him Tenli shrieked, went still. Gave him savorance of his triumph. But it was only momentary respite. For once more her body took up the trip-hammer rhythm and she extorted one last climax from that non-participating member. Taking care of it all by herself.

"Jay," she gasped. "Oh, Jay ... nobody's ever made it like that for me before. Never...." And with a low happy sigh, she fell back. "You lover, you glorious lover."

Jay sunk upon her heavily, his heart gone amok. At a total loss for words, staggered by the immensity of the emotion he'd just achieved, he was content to regain his strength. There would be time for talk, time to puzzle out what had happened, what transfiguring miracle had taken place with this woman. Later on.

But for now-rest, pal, rest. If ever a man needed to recuperate-

"I'll see you again?" Tenli was pleading when at last he could focus his eyes once more. "You won't hold this against me, will you, Jay? You'll let me explain, you'll give me a chance to show you I'm not a tramp. Oh, please darling, say you'll call me. Tomorrow. This won't be the end for us, will it?"

And glibly, feeling traces of the old irritation seep back into his mind, Jay Starr pacified her. "Sure, sure, baby. Of course I'll call you. You don't think I'd let a beautiful doll like you get away from me, do you? You were marvelous, Tenli. All of it. Not just that last, but everything about you."

"You're sure? You aren't just telling me that?"

"I'm positive, sweet. I'll call you first thing tomorrow."

"Oh, Jay, I'm glad. I'm so very glad."

But in the back of his mind Jay entertained doubts. It was the same old feeling he had every time he'd finished up an event like this. No matter how much the girl had pleased him, he wanted out. He wanted no part of this clinging-vine bit. Why did the dolls always have to make such a big production out of getting their ashes hauled?

Nevertheless, there was a difference. He had to be honest about that. No woman, not since Maria, had taken care of him in quite the way Tenli had. And she was only a kid. What would she become with a little experience? If there was ever a woman born for bedroom-

And he decided. He'd give her another chance. If she could bring it off as well as she'd just done, he might hang around for quite a while. Take advantage of the free-ninety-day-home-trial.

There were further doubts. She'd been such a pushover. There was something spooky about the whole affair. When he'd brought her home, he'd never in his wildest dreams thought it would happen so soon. Bang-just like that, on their very first meeting. With chippies, sure-but with a classy dish like Tenli?

Something didn't add up.

Summarily his reverie was interrupted. As Tenli stirred beneath him. "You all right now, baby?" she asked. "You've gotta go, you know. I hate to chase you out, but Mother might be home any minute now. I'd sure hate to have her find us like this."

Jay chuckled, struggled up from the hot, perspiring body. "Yeah, I know just what you mean."

They were dressed at last, and now stood m the front foyer, clutched in clinging embrace, Jay kissing Tenli ardently. They broke. "You'll call me?" she reminded. "Promise? You're not just putting me on?"

"Promise." He touched her tiny nose playfully. "It's been swell. A hundred-carat dream." He kissed her again. "Sleep tight, angel. And thanks."

She disengaged his hand from her breast. "Thanks yourself. Good night, Jay. Be careful."

Then Starr's Chrysler was zooming down the drive. Tenli watched until it had disappeared. Now the streets were still and deserted once more.

Vera and Rex were standing at the bar mixing a fresh batch of drinks by the time Tenli returned to the living room. Just as she'd expected.

"Well," Vera laughed gratingly, "if it isn't the little Sarah Bernhardt of Bel Air. That was quite a performance you just put on there, kitten."

"Man," Rex breathed in his wheezy voice, "you can say that again. I had all I could do to keep from taking Vera on right in that room. Talk about actresses."

Tenli smirked licentiously, took a fresh martini off the bar. "How do you know it was all acting?"

Vera giggled. "I suspected as much. You got your jolts, honey, and I do mean jolts."

"You ought to try him some time, Vera. He's quite something. He may look cold fish, but once he gets into action-wow! I ache in muscles I never knew I had."

"Nice of you to get those lights on for me, dear."

"Have I ever let you down, Mother?"

"Knock it off, Tenli. You got taken care of. Your second today if my tally sheet's correct. I'm still going around with my tongue hanging out."

"Not for long," Rex Quinel laughed. "Ditch the kid and we'll go upstairs and take care of things proper."

"Lay off, Rex. You'll get yours. All nights' worth."

Vera sniffed. "Anyway, what's left of the night."

"I'll look in later," Tenli leered. "Maybe even come on for seconds." She glanced at Rex contemptuously. "That is, if you're man enough."

"Kiddo, you know it," he blustered.

Tenli turned on her mother. "What's with the pictures? What do you think you're going to get out of him? You could sell that one to MGM and he wouldn't bat an eye. You can't scare him. He's got nothing to lose."

Vera Cardwell's eyes narrowed. "He's a press agent, ain't he? He knows the Hollywood crowd. You never can tell when we might be able to use a guy like that. Anyway, I thought you might like the flicks for a souvenir. The way you put out for that guy-like it was your last one."

Tenli smiled thinly. "You never can tell."

"C'mon," Quinel prompted. "Get that drink down, and let's shag upstairs. You been putting me off long enough." His eyes glittered. "I guess you know what I want."

"Ugh," Vera said. Then she sighed, drained her glass. "Okay, Rex doll, c'mon. We play naughty games."

She paused at the bottom of the spiral stairwell. "You going to bed?" she addressed Tenli.

"No," Tenli said. "I think I'll join you and Rex. I'll lead the cheering section."

An idiot smile flickered across Rex Quinel's face. "I'd like that, Tenli," he said, all but slathering. "You know I dig it with an audience."

Tenli made a distasteful grimace. "Yeah, I know."

"What is it with you, honey?" Vera challenged. "Haven't you had enough for one day?"

Tenli smiled, waggled her hips. Then replied mockingly: "After all, dear, aren't I my mother's daughter?"

The perverted trio scuttled through the house extinguishing lights. Then giggling, they all started upstairs. "God damn you, Rex," Vera shouted at the last, "cut it out! Can't you at least wait until we get into the bedroom?"

CHAPTER FOUR

It was Monday morning. A long, baffling introspective weekend had passed, and now Jay Starr was once again back in his office. At the old stand. Ready to officiate at Mammon's altar. To turn a buck, honest or dishonest.

Now, at ten-fifty, there was a break in the welter of petty start-of-the-week details, and Starr lit up a cigarette, leaned back in his chair, slapped his feet onto his desk, tried to inventory the calls that must still be made, the contacts hanging fire that afternoon. There were at least three more calls on the Allison property that must be safely fed into the "grapevine" today.

Actually the novel was a bomb, but there was an out side chance of a movie sale. And even outside chances meant money in his pocket. If he could put the fear of God into a few greedy, insecure producers, jar them into i lidding on the script-then Bonham and Company would sweeten the kitty to the tune of five grand. Perhaps after the impending one o'clock lunch with Sid Wiseman, someone would start putting out feelers.

And, after all, wasn't that a press agent's job? To create a demand for something, animal, vegetable or mineral, where no demand had existed before?

Then there was the Sonny Carter deal. Bernelli was definitely interested. But not interested enough to sign. If he could spread a few more "items" in the gossip columns ... maybe he could get Sonny seen at La Scala, say with Gina Franklin-his eyes narrowed. But how to get Gina to bite on a dog like that? What was in it for her?

And what about Lonna Tremonti? She hadn't had a part, not even a bit, in three months. And she was howling like a wounded banshee. What was he doing to her public image? She was threatening to switch to Rod Grover. And that wasn't good. For dear Lonna, over-the-hill as she was, was still one of his mainstays. To the tune of three C's a month. He couldn't afford to drop her.

And Vonni Parker, due at his office in just twenty-five minutes. Why had he even consented to see her? She was a zero, she was going absolutely nowhere. Twenty-three, already disillusioned, she didn't even believe in herself If that was the case, how did she expect him to get anyone else to believe in her? She was strictly a charity case; even with the checks from her scanty TV commercial residuals still dribbling in, she couldn't meet the minimum seventy-five a month.

A thin, venal smile flickered across his lips. Well, he mused, there's payment and there's payment. Maybe he and Vonni could come to some understanding.

He fought to figure an angle whereby he could get somebody to ask for Vonni Parker. Maybe Zuckerman, in some of those seven-day dreadfuls of his. If he could put a bug in his ear. Or Tony Maxwell. He was picking up cheap talent for a new TV pilot. If Tony could get a line on Vonni-he went for flashy, pumped-up blondes.

But the projected mechanizations died right there, and Jay strained forward, angrily ground out his cigarette in the glass ashtray. What'n hell's the matter with you? he flayed himself. You haven't been able to keep your mind on things all morning. What's bugging you?

But it was only brain music. For Jay Starr knew exactly what it was that was bugging him, what kept getting in the way of productive thought. It was an envisioned face and body, a chaotic remembrance of things past. A name, five letters long, beginning with a T.

Tenli Cardwell. She was the yard-long thorn in his hide this morning The same thorn that had dug and festered all through Saturday and Sunday.

It was the strangest impasses. For he hadn't been able to get her out of his thoughts. After all the women he'd bedded down-young, old and in-between, all the floozies he'd been able to promptly banish from his mind-how come a little torchtail like Tenli could stick like she did?

What did she have that those other lays didn't have? She had two legs, two arms, two breasts-all the other requisite equipment. She used' them to devastating effect. But then so had plenty of other screaming, squirmy dolls he'd tumbled. What was so different about Tenli that she still remained a stinging burr in his brain?

It had become more than evident to Jay Starr by now, the light of day being what it is, that there was more to Tenli Cardwell than met the eye. He had a distinct sense of being taken in, of being used. That had been quite some act she'd given, what with all those protestations of innocence and confusion, all her cries of passionate and uncontrollable dissolution.

She had put on a show, that was certain. And under the influence of alcohol and poker-hot lust as he'd been, he'd believed her, he'd believed that she was caught up in the throes of a mindless need, that she wasn't really a wanton, that it was his devastating charm that had pushed her over the brink.

Which was all so much baloney. Saturday and Sunday had taught him that. This Tenli kid was no novice; she'd gone fifteen rounds beaucoup times before. She'd worked him over like a pro, she'd got just what she wanted, how she wanted it, when she wanted it.

And so. Why all the commotion? He'd been conned. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last. Then, realizing all this, why couldn't he forget the tantalizing little twitch?

And back to the top, Oscar: what did she have that other females didn't have?

It was a puzzle. A real whipper.

And as much as he'd pondered the question during the past fifty-six hours, he still hadn't come up with a satisfactory answer. All he knew was that he wanted to see her again, he wanted to see if it would turn out just as good the second time around. And more than that-more subtly instinctive than stated, in an eerie undercurrent of wonder-he envisioned even deeper mysteries about Tenli, he read promises of even further excesses into those fathomless eyes, that predatory expression.

She was evil personified, a vampire in a child's body. And if he could follow her a little further, trail her deeper into her subterranean lair, what deranged fantasies could she conjure up for him, what demonic limbo could she create?

Which wasn't exactly the way the thoughts formed in Starr's mind. He wasn't a poetic man. What it boiled down to was that he'd go along for the ride, take a crack at all the tricks Tenli had in her ugly little black bag. Perhaps he'd learn something along the way.

He was always willing to learn.

And since his life was so empty otherwise-why not?

Suddenly Jay found himself very restless. Just thinking about Tenli, the way she'd all but dismantled him that night, made him itchy all over again. He was on the verge of dialing her number, his address book spread before him, when he was distracted by the sound of a door opening and closing in his outer office.

Instantly he was up, pocketing the book, going to his door. Opening it, he saw the pretty-enough blonde-her make-up overdone, her dress too tight, her sabre-toed and heeled pumps too pretentious-standing in uncertain pose in the empty receptionist's office.

He plastered on a professional smile. "Ah, Miss Parker. So nice to see you. I hope you weren't waiting long. My girl's out to lunch; I'm watching the store alone."

Which was a bare-faced lie. There was no girl. Jay hadn't bothered with one for the past two years now. But Vonni Parker had no way of knowing this. She was a new client. Their only contact had been over the phone.

"No," she smiled, a bit too eagerly, "I didn't have to wait at all. I just came in."

"In here, please," Jay ushered her into his office. "Won't you sit down, Miss Parker? Cigarette?"

Within ten minutes Jay Starr's earlier suspicions that Vonni Parker was running scared were confirmed. The kid was desperate. Desperate as only a kid wild to crash Hollywood and the big time can be. It is a terror that can only be described by those who have lived through it, or by those involved with the would-be starlets. Months of banging one's head against the stone walls of casting offices, months of sufferance of indifferent, condescending smirks and insults, had turned her into a frightened thing, into something almost subhuman, so great was her desire to achieve-to launch what certainly must become a glittering Hollywood career.

A desire so indomitable during her early days in L.A, a desire that diminished, was hacked at by a million little pressures. While always, looming in the background, the grisly spectre of failure, mocking and jeering, reminding her of the secret laughter that would follow her down the streets of her home town when at last she was forced to return and admit her utter failure.

Such a girl was Vonni Parker. She'd do anything-absolutely anything-to further her movie or TV career. She'd die before she'd return to her hick home town and parade her failure before the insensitive rustics there.

It was almost as if Jay could smell that desperation. And in his hard way he felt some compassion for the girl. But in another way. contempt. No one had asked her to come out here, no one had forced her to think movies. But if the decision had been made, she could have been strong, she could have fought to retain her dignity. Did she have to be so weak, so sniveling?

And thought of Tenli, of her proud, sure arrogance, goaded him, set something off within him.

"You say you've had only these four TV commercials?" he said, studying his jottings. "No other credits at all?"

"I'm afraid that's all," she said, averting her eyes.

"We don't have very much to work with, Miss..

She straightened in her chair, looked at him pleadingly. "Oh, please, Mr. Starr, give me a break. If I'd just once get a decent break. I know I can do it, I know I can go to the top. And if I do, I won't forget what you've done for me." Her eyes filmed. "I swear."

You slob, Jay thought, you blousy, cretin slob. Don't go breaking up on me. I'll throw you out on your fat can. And the decision was forged, became tempered steel.

"I think I might have something for you. There's a pilot TV show I've got in mind. Very cut-rate, I'm afraid, but it might be a start."

"Mr. Starr," she blurted, "I'd be so grateful."

She was a woman, wasn't she? Jay mused, trying to rationalize away what he was about to do. Just like Marla. And weren't women put on God's Earth to be used, to be enjoyed? And perhaps be trampled a little in the bargain? Miss Vonni Parker would have to do until he could get back to Tenli again.

The question was brisk, terse, caused the girl to wither in her chair. "How much are you able to pay?"

"Well, I...." she stammered, panic glazing her eyes, "what I mean is...."

His voice was cold. "What you mean is that you can't pay me anything right now. But when something turns up, you'll make things right...."

"Yes, Mr. Starr," she said embarrassedly.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do business that way. I have bills, obligations to meet, also."

"Please, Mr. Starr, help me. You're my last chance. I swear I'll pay you whenever I...."

He silenced her with a wave, his eyes boring into hers. "Stand up," he ordered. "Over there by the window."

"Stand up? What...?"

"Please, Vonni. If I'm to help you, do as I say."

"Yes ... sir," she said, and walked to the open space on the deeppile carpet.

"Now," Jay said smugly, knowing he had nothing to lose. She'd either do as he said, or walk out of the office-and he'd have wasted only a half hour. "Raise your skirts please. Let me see your legs."

She colored, stiffened. "Mr. Starr?"

"C'mon," he snapped. "Get with it. Can I represent you if I don't know what I'm pushing? Do you want my help or don't you? Up, up!"

Then woodenly, realizing what the man's price would be realizing that she had absolutely no other out, she did as she was told. She knew this wasn't standard agency procedure, but ... well, what was she to do? With stoic resignation she began sliding the beige, nylon skirt up.

"Higher," he said. "Damn you, don't act so coy."

The skirt rose to the tops of her stockings.

"Higher," he commanded. "Please, Miss Parker, I don't have all day."

The skirt came higher. But not quick enough. For now the man came at her, grabbed the skirt himself, raised it all the way to her waist, twisted and bunched it so it exposed her belly, thighs and legs from her waist down. He put the crumpled material into her numbed hands, turned to his chair, where he sat watching her.

She wore a light blue girdle, satin quilted in the front, long-legged to control her pudgy thighs. Black garter snaps snaked down to her stockings. All of this Jay took in with an aberrated sense of power.

"Turn around. Show off that fanny a little."

Vonnie turned.

"Raise that skirt there," he said. "Very nice, dear, very nice. You have very pretty legs. You could stand dropping a few pounds, but otherwise ... Come over here, Vonni By me." And when she did, when she allowed him to slowly, lingeringly stroke her nylon clad legs from her calves to her buttocks, Jay Starr knew he was home free.

"Will that be all, Mr. Starr?" she quaked when he finally ceased his ministrations. "May I go now?"

"Hardly," he smirked. "Get undressed, please. I'll have to see more."

Her face crumpled, her eyes went wild. "Oh, no, Mr.

Starr, please. You can't mean it. I...."

"Shut up!" he roared, cowing her completely. "Do as you're told. Do you want me to help your career or not? It doesn't look like you have any other way to pay for my services."

"But...."

"Undress," he said cruelly.

A gigantic shudder went through the woman. "But where?" she sighed.

"Right here. The floor'll do."

And finally, turning away from him, she let her skirt drop, began tugging at zippers and snaps. Starr slowly walked out to the outer door and locked it.

When he came back she was standing in a shaft of sunlight, down to her brassiere and girdle. With a slow, feral smile on his lips, Jay sat back, studied her every movement. As the shimmering blue brassiere came off, as her mammoth breasts fell into the sunlight. The girdle came away, the stockings and shoes with it.

Then she stood cowering in only a pair of blue panties. It was here that Jay rose. "Here, I'll take care of those." Docilely she let him roll them down her hips, down her legs.

"Lay down," he said. "Right there."

Tiredly she knelt, then sat, finally rolling onto her back, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. Not a word of protest had escaped her since her initial dismay. She was now totally reconciled.

Standing over her, looking down on the over-fleshy body, watching the woman's nipples go hard, Jay leisurely removed his own clothes.

When he came to her, there were no affectionate overtures. He toyed with her breasts briefly, enjoyed her recoil when he pinched her nipples. But it was only momentary diversion. Abruptly he was arranging himself between her legs, his hands coursing up her thighs to prepare things. Then he was sprawled over her, sliding his belly upward on hers. She released a sibilant sigh as he took her.

Now his body began to rock and glide.

Moments later he paused. "You better get with it, honey," he warned. "You be good to me, I'll be good to you."

A muffled sob broke from her throat. But only one. For Vonni Parker was used to this kind of befoulment. It wasn't the first. And in all likelihood, it wouldn't be the last. She arched her back, raised her knees. Got with it.

Afterward, as she dressed, she uttered the pitiful plea. "You will help me, won't you, Mr. Starr? Now that you've...."

He smiled disdainfully at her from behind his desk. "Yes, Vonni," he said. "I'll get something in the mill this afternoon. Just hang tight. But remember what I said about putting on the feedbag. Get hold of yourself."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, suddenly dressing faster.

Strangely enough it was the truth. He'd made a bargain. And despite his callous cruelty where women were concerned, Jay Starr did have certain professional standards. He'd promote Vonni into something, small though it might be, or club someone in the attempt.

"Thank you," she sent over her shoulder as she fled his office.

"You're welcome, Vonni," he laughed. "Any time."

It was night in Bel Air. In all of Los Angeles, for that matter, and at the Cardwell house on Beverly Glen Boulevard preparations of a most puzzling sort were taking place. In Tenli Cardwell's bedroom, to be exact.

Had Jay Starr walked in at that moment he wouldn't have recognized Tenli. For a miraculous change in her appearance had been affected. A change Tenli herself didn't appreciate one bit. "For God sakes, Vera," she groused, "what's with this no-lipstick bit? I look like a washed-out zombie. Can't I have even a little?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? This is a special case. This Cavendish jerk digs it Lolita-style. I told him I could line up a sixteen-year-old virgin for him. And you, sweetie, are it."

"Lord, Vera," Tenli said, "where do you dig up these things? Isn't anybody straight in this goddamn town?" The old venality flared in her eyes. "What's the pervert good for?"

"I figure Walter D. Cavendish, president of Clair-mont Studios, is good for fifty grand. For a starter, anyway. He's got a twenty-room mansion in Beverly Hills, his wife is a power in Hollywood. Hell pay, and big too, once we have our private little theater party for him." She fussed with the skirt of the too-short, junior-style dress. "You remember what you've got to do? All the way, baby, make him go all the way."

"Cut it, Vera. You're turning my stomach."

"Maybe fifty G's'll help sweeten that sensitive stomach of yours. Do a job, Tenli, a real job. Drive the senile old jerk right out of his mind. We'll be set for a long time. You got it all down?"

"Yes," Tenli snapped. "Quit riding me, will you?

I've handled better than Walter Cavendish in my time."

"Well, see that you don't muff this one."

"I won't. I suppose you're going to bring him up."

Vera glanced toward the wall upon which the large, two-way mirror was fastened. "Yeah, everything's all set. Both cameras. Infra-red is ready if you can't con him into the daylight bit."

"Boy, you sure think of everything, don't you? What about camera noise?"

"I'm going down and turn on the tape machine. I'll pipe some music up to your speaker." She rose, stood assessing her daughter. "There, you look just like a teenager waiting for her first big date. That dress, those white flats. God, he'll think he's making his daughter."

Vera paused at the door. "On your toes, baby," she said. "He should be here at any moment now."

"I'll be ready," Tenli smirked.

Then she was alone, sat on the edge of the bed, running the brush through her hair, drawing it to full length, the brown tresses falling about her shoulders, implementing the impression of youthfulness. She almost laughed when she saw her wan face. She did look like a frightened sixteen-year-old. There was no doubt about it; Cavendish would be suckered, but good.

"I'm scared," she'd protested when the man had moved to extinguish the lights. "I don't like the dark. Please leave the lamp on."

Looking down at the small, cringing child lying completely nude on the bed before him, Walter Cavendish was pierced with a sweet delight. Such a baby, he gloated, such a perfect, pure, little baby. It was going to be good to teach her about men, about love. "All right, honey." he soothed. "Anything you say. I'll leave the lights on."

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you?" Tenli acted babyishness to the hilt. "Mrs. Cardwell said you only wanted to look at me, to touch and kiss me. You won't do anything else, will you?"

"No, baby, no," the pot-bellied man, dressed in only his undershorts himself, soothed her. "I'm just going to kiss and love you. And maybe, when I'm through kissing and loving you, you'll want me to do something else to you. You'll let me teach you about something very marvelous, something every girl should know about. Something you'll enjoy very much."

"But you won't hurt me? You promise?"

"I promise, precious. Now just lie there, very still. Let Daddy kiss you. Let Daddy hold your pretty little breasts."

And Tenli lay very still, a small smirk forming on her lips as the lecher plowed his head into her breasts, as his mouth closed on her nipples, his tongue twirling round them like they were the last lollipops on earth.

"Oh, oh," she sighed, "that feels so nice, Mr. Cavendish, so nice. Oh, do it some more."

"Call me Daddy," he murmured, his lips still busy. "Daddy, understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." She squirmed her body up, felt his lips disengage from her breasts, slide on her belly. "Oh kiss me, Daddy. It feels so good. Kiss me all over, please." Her hands came down, guided his head. "Here, kiss me here."

He jerked away. "No, baby," he gasped, "that isn't nice. It's not a nice thing to do at all."

Tenli writhed wildly, the sight of her white, trembling body all but driving the addled man out of his senses.

"Please, please," she choked, "it makes me feel so strange. I've never felt anything like this before. Teach me, teach me all those things you said."

The man tried to wrest his head from her hands. But she held him, brought his lips back to her belly. "But first kiss me. Here. All over."

Walter Cavendish was filled with an aboriginal sense of evil. It was something he'd always wanted to do. A tabu he'd always wanted to violate. And why not? With this pure, virginal child? What would be the harm? If it would drive her witless, if it would make her eager to have him at the end, what was the harm?

A strange fever went through him. Yes, why not? And he went limp, let Tenli lead him where she would. He was surprised to find his own hands scrabbling between her thighs.

"Love me, kiss me," Tenli chanted. "Oh, kiss, kiss, kiss. That's good, so good. It burns, but it burns so nice. Please don't stop...."

Walter Cavendish, head of Clairmont Studios, didn't stop. He was in a mindless trance, eagerly loving the pristine, lovely body, What had he been missing all these years? This feeling of degenerate evil filling him was gorgeous, simply gorgeous.

Tenli began to whimper and scream.

While behind the mirror, manning the slow-whirring camera, Vera Cardwell's face was drawn into a sick mask. And she caught herself clutching her breasts. Suddenly they hurt her very much.

And all the while the camera reels kept rolling, rolling-

CHAPTER FIVE

On Tuesday Jay did call Tenli again. And when he suggested a dinner date for Thursday, he was surprised at her reply.

"I hope you won't think me forward, Jay, but isn't Thursday awfully far off? I'd just love to see you sooner. How about this afternoon?"

"Can't. Sorry, but I'm meeting several clients, planning a new publicity campaign."

"I thought you said you were a press agent. And an independent at that. Press agents make their own hours, don't they?"

Jay laughed, feeling clutching delight that she was so anxious to see him. "That's only partially true," he said. "It just so happens that this is one of my bad afternoons. Can I have a rain-check?"

"Tomorrow afternoon?"

Rapidly Jay did mental inventory. Wednesday afternoon was fairly clear. "Okay," he said brightly, "It's wide open. What would you like to do?"

Her tone was insinuating. "Why don't you come by at two? We can sort of let things take care of themselves after that. Is it a date?"

"It's a date."

But when Wednesday afternoon rolled around, they didn't do anything at all. At any rate, nothing more than Starr had expected when he'd embarked on the trip across town. But it was a much-changed, philosophical man who sipped martinis with the gay vivacious woman that afternoon. A man who knew exactly what he was about, exactly what to expect. For his conclusions about his semi-innocent had solidified in the interim and he'd come into her treacherous parlor with his eyes wide open.

Tenli, he'd decided, was a voluptuary, and very likely an unrelenting nympho of the first water. And just so long as they accepted each other on those honest terms, viewed their relationship on a level of uninhibited sexual camaraderie, everything would be fine. Very fine indeed. For one doesn't stumble on such a devilishly proficient bedmate every day.

But-let-us-be-honest-with-each-other: this was the one understanding he wanted made.

Forgetting one important thing, however. Honesty was a word that simply didn't exist in Tenli's vocabulary.

They sat in the sumptuous, air-conditioned living room, he in a light blue summer suit, Tenli outfitted in a skin-tight, chi-chi lounging suit, a cute creation with straps over the shoulders, reminding Jay of old-time bib overalls. Only there was a frothy, accentuating batch of ruffles where the bib should be, Tenli's white blouse fighting losing battle with her vibrant breasts.

She was fresh and clean and innocent, and despite the fact that Jay knew-or thought he knew-the truth about Tenli, he was still possessed of the strongest urge to rush to her, crush her in his arms, much like one might hug an irresistable doll.

Yet it was strictly hands-off. For the present anyway. Until they'd settled a few things between them.

Now they sat on that same white davenport, yards away from where they'd so recently consummated that wondrous love, listening to soft music from the stereo tape rig, politely, almost sedately getting that first martini under their belts.

And finally: "Well," Tenli pouted, "this is hardly what I expected, Jay. We're acting like strangers. Aren't you even going to kiss me?" She slid closer.

When he made no move to take her in his arms, her face fell. "Are you still holding the other night against me, Jay? I'm sorry, baby, that I let things get out of control the way I did, but I was a woman possessed. I...."

The words died on her lips as she saw the mocking, patient smile on his mouth. "Haven't you rather worked that bit into the ground, sweetheart?" he mocked.

"Why, jay, what do you mean?"

"What I mean is that we shouldn't kid each other any more. We're big boys and girls now-we can level. You knew what was going to happen Friday night. Just like you know what's going to happen before I walk out of that door this afternoon."

"Jay ... don't," she feigned hurt. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"You forget, baby, I've had five whole days to think about that night. Days when I was sober, when I wasn't all steamed up with wanting that luscious body of yours. You fooled me with your baby innocence and that 'I can't help myself act. But I'm wide awake now."

Her shoulders sagged, and she sent him a shamefaced grin. Then she touched his hand, giggled outright. "I guess I was pretty bad, wasn't I? I make a pretty bum actress. But what else could I do? I'd have scared you away if I'd just up and asked you."

"It's the truth then?"

"Yes ... it's the truth. I wanted you right from the start. I told Vera and Rex to broom off. I wanted to have you all to myself. To get you back here, all alone." Sham contriteness flowered in her gaze. "Am I so awful? Just because I want to do what comes naturally?"

Now Jay pulled her into his arms, poised his lips inches from hers. "No," he chided lightly, "you aren't awful at all. You're honest with yourself, which is more than I can say for most women. But you see, don't you, that we couldn't go on with that act of yours? That we have to be honest with each other?"

His lips touched hers, melded and ground hotly, Tenli's body instantly supercharged, surging, thrusting itself to his. "I'm glad," she breathed when at last their mouths unlocked. "I'm glad you found out. Things will be so much better for us now."

"I've never talked to a woman like this before," he said. "Usually I had to fill them up with moonlight and roses. But this ... with us ... it'll be different. We can take what we want, enjoy ourselves, go the limit. Pop our eyeballs if we want, and have no claim on each other." He kissed her anew, wild heat generating within his belly. "And God knows, you've got lots to enjoy."

"Baby," she said huskily, "oooh, I love k when you talk like that. Tell me some more."

"Maybe in my own crazy way I'm falling in love with you ... even if you are the damndest alley cat I ever ran across. But if I'm not, what's the difference? So long's we're balling steady. I'll never get tired of your brand. There sure's hell's no harm in keeping a beautiful, frantic little trick like you around."

Then there was little time left for conversation, for the strange, analytic exchange. For Jay was abruptly surprised to find Tenli taking his hand, guiding it to her bosom, where advance preparations had been made. Where the frilly blouse had been unbuttoned, where two hard-tipped breasts were now exposed to the air. "You talk an awful good line of stuff," she murmured throat-ily, "let's see how good you perform."

As his fingers twirled the nipples, as his hands cupped and gyrated her breasts, she was filled with a searing urgency, and her body flopped back on the couch, surrendered itself totally. "Oh, Jay, you don't know how I've wanted that these past few days. It's been murder. Just thinking about the other night nearly drove me out of my ever-loving mind. Baby, keep it up, keep it up. Do me to a turn."

Immediately Jay fell upon her, pulled the two ivory globes all the way out of the fluffy nylon, clutched them tightly together, his tongue sweeping back and forth between the turgid tips. Nestled in the silky fabric, they were a devastating vision of beauty.

Glorying in the adoration, Tenli's hips began to grind on the cushions. She kicked off her sexy gold mules, drove her heels into the cushions for foothold. A weird melange of moans, whimpers and exhortations broke from her throat.

Until finally she stirred, partially rose, reaching for her martini glass. Then, a lascivious mischief in her eyes, she dipped her finger into the glass, let drops of the liquid fall onto each nipple. "Time for that pause that refreshes," she said lewdly. "Come and get it, baby." And while Jay attacked one nipple, licked away the gin, she was busily painting the other. The crazy liquor-break went on and on.

At long last, her breath coming in long, tortured gasps, Tenli could endure no more of the maddening play. She drained the dregs of the martini, threw the glass across the room, where it shattered against the fireplace. She fought herself free, heedlessly tore the blouse down the front, shredding it, baring her lovely, smooth belly. Then she was wrenching at the slacks, writhing and arching her body, her face twisted into a ferocious grimace.

"C'mon, baby," she gritted, "let's go do it! Let's find a nice quiet bed someplace, tear into it. Christ, I feel like my head's gonna explode, I want you so bad.

Don't just sit there-come help me. Get your damned clothes off!"

"You amaze me, Tenli," Jay muttered, rising, trying to slide the jump suit off her. "You're the hottest little firecracker I've ever seen."

"And I'm getting more so by the minute," she laughed. "I'll go bang in a minute. Oh, damn it, tear the blasted thing. Tear the rotten rag off me."

Which Jay, caught up in a chaotic frenzy, brutally did, seemingly glorying in the ripping sound the fabric made, getting inordinate charge out of seeing the alabaster smoothness of her belly, legs and thighs revealed in all their heart-stopping beauty. For beneath the ensemble Tenli was completely nude. No stockings, garters, panties or brassiere would impede him today.

Now it was Tenli's turn to attach him, to help him strip off his clothing.

Then she was running across the living room, heading toward the curving stairs, small tatters of the slacks still clinging to her legs, her back and buttocks thrusting before him as they climbed, twinkling, catching light, giving her smooth, shadowed back a magnificent sensuality that made him want to scream from the pain of his anticipation.

They were in the sunlit, extravagantly appointed bedroom. Tenli wheeled, half-ran to meet him. Dragging him toward the large mirror, she faced it, fell back against him, brought his hands to her breasts, commanded that he hold and roll them. All the while watching the two aroused bodies in the mirror, a lust smirk on her face, all the while sliding and thrusting her buttocks against his naked belly.

And Jay found his breath coming in horrendous, deep gasps, the pressure within him building dangerously. If he didn't have her soon-if he didn't get her on that bed in just a few more minutes-

But the girl wasn't through playing. For before she permitted him to pull her bedward, she withdrew from him, turned. And there, in full view of the mirror, paid very tactile homage to his maleness, leaving no doubt in Jay's mind as to how badly she wanted him, how much she adored his physical readiness.

There were no more preludes. Once they reached the bed she flung herself upon the sheets, whirled in one fluid motion, arched her back, and was instantly ready to receive him.

A coup de grace Jay was only too happy to confer. He came over her immediately, wrapped her in his arms, let Tenli take care of piloting him to that warm harbor. "Oh, darling," she sighed, her voice on the verge of breaking, "if you knew, if you knew. Oh, good, so good. Go, lover, go. Give it to me. All of it. All the way...."

And her arms wound about his back, her legs thrust upward, squeezing a grunt from her, locked around his waist. "Jay!" she shrieked. "All the way!"

There were other encouragements she articulated also, pagan beyond description. Encouragements that set Jay on fire as he'd never been set on fire before. And he bent himself to his delightful task with all the strength of his body, all the dedication in his soul.

While beneath him Tenli choked and gasped and screamed a seemingly endless succession of deliverances, her hands, her legs, her teeth clawing and trapping, giving awesome testament to the magic he was working upon her.

And at last, Jay feeling like he'd been squeezed through a tiny opening, emerging full size on the other side, he was plunging into darkness. There on those stark sheets, with a hot June sun burning down upon the intertwined bodies, he was thrown into darkness. And as he fell headlong into the funnel of Hades, he cursed and choked, the pain in his loins intolerable yet beautiful, inspiring still more incredible groans and oaths as now, now, NOW-

And it happened.

He saw a pinpoint of light at the bottom of the tunnel. A speck which grew larger and larger, which apparently had effect on the speed of his fall. It slowed, cushioned, until now he was floating, his body spinning, spiraling like a lazy feather. And he regained his senses, found himself again on the rectangular bed, was surprised to find the still quivering, soft form beneath him. He started as he heard her celebrate his victory-along with her own-in throaty, pleasure-thick moans.

"Again, darling," she called. "Oh, please, again."

"Yes, baby," he gasped. "Damn right again. But it's going to be some time yet."

"I've got all the time in the world," she said drowsily, smiling with lazy satisfaction. When he moved to slide off her she protested, held him tightly with her arms and legs. Until, moments later-both of them totally spent-they dozed off, their bodies still locked together.

A plainly agitated, all but demented Vera Cardwell appeared, seemingly from nowhere, the minute that she heard Jay Starr barrel his car out of the drive. It was almost five; it had been a long, desperately frustrating afternoon for the compulsive voyeur. She had crouched in the secret niche, watching, savoring, hungering-while Jay and her daughter had indulged in two more glorious and prolonged love sessions.

And now, caught up in a sexual fever of her own, she lusted after tangible and physical satisfaction-she meant to achieve it in any way possible. Tenli, still lying on the rumpled, sheet-tangled bed, still nude, her eyes dull-glowing coals, saw the frenzy possessing her mother, got inkling of what would happen now.

"Well," she smirked. "Did you get your fill? Don't tell me you were behind that mirror all afternoon."

Vera ignored the remark. Her eyes rolling in her head, her smile a rag doll caricature, she stood before the bed, began to frantically rip her clothes off.

"No, Vera," Tenli protested, her eyes wide, revulsion flaring in them. "Not that ... please...."

"Yes" Vera spat, kicking away her white panties. "I get my boots now." There was a frightening spitefulness in her stare, evidence of violence Tenli didn't dare refuse. "Yes, baby, yes," she intoned more venomously.

"I'm beat, Vera. I couldn't see it through."

"You'll see it through." Vera's fingers turned to talons, and she came closer. "Get up, doll. Get ready."

"Mother," Tenli said, sliding from the bed, standing. "Sometimes you make me sick."

"Do as you're told. Get the equipment"

Quickly, plainly afraid of her mother, Tenli went to one of her dresser drawers, rummaged in the tangle of clothing. Finally she brought forth a long bundle of black silk. In which the apparatus was rolled.

"Hurry," Vera said, settling herself in bed, rolling on her back. Her legs began to shudder. "Into the bathroom. Get ready. God, how I need it today."

Dutifully Tenli retreated into the adjoining bath. When finally she re-entered the bedroom there was a weird contraption, made of pink elastic straps, attached to her hips, criss-crossing her back.

Vera's eyes blazed with delight as she saw the naked girl. Her arms reached out, drew Tenli down. "Do my breasts a little first, baby. I need that. Then the rest."

And as Tenli dutifully crouched over her mother, began to kiss and lave her breasts, Vera shuddered convulsively, pulled her body down upon hers. "Oooh, dolly," she choked. "I can feel it already."

CHAPTER SIX

Saturday night found Jay Starr once again at the Cardwells' Bel Air menage. Only not alone with Tenli, or even with Tenli and her mother. For a party was in progress, a party the like of which Starr had only read about heretofore. An all out, no-holds-barred Hollywood orgy.

But of course it hadn't started out like that. "We'd like to have you in to meet a few of our friends," Vera had glossed things over as she'd invited him. "Just-a small group. We'll dance, have a few drinks, make conversation."

When Jay had arrived the "friends," ten of them in all, had already been waiting, and they'd looked him over with more than casual interest. He'd been introduced around, had caught as many names as possible, had tagged each type, boys and girls alike, to the best of his ability. He couldn't miss the curiosity in the strangers' eyes as they appraised him. So this was Tenli's new "steady," their expression said. He doesn't look like so much of a much.

But by midnight, top-shelf liquor being the great tonic it is, his doubts, his uncertainties, had completely faded. He was one of the gang, a swinger, accepted by one and all.

And what a gang they were, each and every one of them, the women too, cut from the same libertine cloth as Tenli and Vera. They were there to ball, and there would be hell to pay before the night was out. No variation would be too far out for them once the party got into high.

Now, during a lull, as the party shifted, most of the celebrants dancing in a dark, tiled alcove adjunct to the living room proper, Jay had time to evaluate the quests further. Sitting on the white davenport, a lovely redhead of perhaps twenty-five, Nan Keller by name, at his immediate right, he watched the dancers and non-dancers with a more or less bleary concentration.

Tenli danced with Rex Quinel, he holding her close, both of them laughing loudly at some nasty he'd just whispered into her ear The men had been obliged to wear evening clothes, and in deference to this the females, Tenli and Vera especially, had decked themselves out in their splashiest and sexiest female finery. Tenli wore a mustard silk, which complemented her cameo coloring, a rather boxy sheath with a low, square cut neckline, fragile black straps over her shoulders, a black-trimmed slit up the skirt on the right side exposing an exciting flash and curve of lovely leg.

The other women were dressed in equally showy and daring costumes, but Vera Cardwell had outdone them all. She wore one of the Norrel "see-through" for-mals, a midnight blue chiffon, full-skirted, bunched at the waist, bouffant and full at the bustline. A gown that gave any interested viewer shadowy, elusive view of her legs, all the way to mid-thigh where shadow panels drew further mystery about the female beneath. A gown that drew male eyes with lodestone lure, that displayed her long, sensuous legs to provocative advantage, made men yearn to go even further in reconnoital of that statuesque body.

"Watch it, buster," the redhead beside him chuckled, noting his appraisal of Vera's gown. "You're gonna drool on that pretty dinner jacket in a minute now."

Jay smiled sheepishly. "It's quite a dress."

"That's for sure," Nan said. "It's designed for just one thing: to make men flip."

Momentarily Jay diverted his attention to Nan Keller, was surprised to find that she was really quite lovely. She was owner of a strange beauty, an exquisiteness that became more apparent only with the passage of time. Her lips were petite in a rather triangular, tiny face, her nose was pert, upturned, her eyes over-large, captivatingly lustrous. And yet, when they'd been first introduced he'd seen none of this. She'd seemed rather plain.

Her slim, curved body was encased in a gold lame" gown, a straight, figure caressing creation, with a severe V at the decolletage. A gown that was almost professional in its allure. But a gown, which, nevertheless, showed off the subtle assets of Nan Keller's figure very well indeed.

Jay and Nan passed the next few minutes in idle, desultory chatter, Jay once going to refill her glass, pleased to see that she also was sticking with Scotch. She'd been at Vera's parties before, thus she was able to fill Jay in on the other guests.

The two blondes in the harem-type pink formals were, as Jay had suspected, twins, minor starlets under contract, girls possessed of matching, twisted psyches, who sniffed out parties like Vera's with bloodhound persistence. Their names, Nan reminded him, were Sylvia and Sandy Willson, and he should keep his distance, leave them to the two dark-haired, vain wolves they'd come with, for they dug things sexual in a strange way indeed.

The brooding blonde dancing with the swarthy Latin type named Pino Coya was also dangerous. Ronda Damon by name, she was an ex-star who'd sunk into non-stop dissipation once her career had begun to wane. The long elbow-length glove weren't just for fashion's sake, they were there to conceal certain scars on her wrists. Jay knew what they meant.

The last female guest was a woman in her late thirties named Denise Duford. A divorcee of notable standing-she'd jettisoned four husbands thus far-she was out to gather sensation with both hands before she entered the final downhill phase of her life Which thrill-seeking, unless Jay was mistaken, was already commencing. As he watched Mrs. Duford wind up with a man Nan pointed out as Tom Halper, kissing and embracing him passionately, at the end digging her hand between their tangled bodies, brazenly making certain routine inspections.

"And that guy over there," Jay asked now, as the rundown came full circle, "the one dancing with Ronda Damon ... Pino Coya did you say? What about him?"

A guarded expression mantled Nan's face. A look of fear intermingled with incredulity. He was in as deep with Tenli and Vera Cardwell, the glance said, and he didn't know how Pino Coya figured in all this? How green can a guy get?

She smothered the look with a smile. "You mean you don't know about Coya? He's quite a fixture around L. A. You never ran across him? Maybe you travel in more stratified circles."

"He looks like a sawed-off hood to me. That greasy, black hair, that pocked-up face. And the way he talks ... he's never been to a charm school, that's certain."

"You hit it on the nose the first time around. Pino is a mobby. Just keep out of his path. Hell carve you up like a Christmas turkey before you lay a finger on him." She averted her eyes. "And enough said."

"But how come? What's a crud like that doing here? How did Vera ever get mixed up with him?"

Nan shrugged. "You got me. It's none of my affair."

Jay couldn't help sensing the change in mood. Nan knew something about Vera, about Coya that she wasn't about to spill. Maybe later, when she was more loaded, he'd get back to her and ask a few more leading questions.

During this sullen pause he turned on Nan once more, looked at her directly, tried to hold her gaze. But she sent him a flippant smile, made a wisecrack. She seemed to be self-controlled, brittle and cynically untouchable. Yet there was a subtle something, lurking microns beneath that saucy stare, that indicated a long suffered hurt, a painful defeat and retreat. Starr felt small, gnawing feelings of sympathy and involvement, he wanted to know more about her.

"Somewhere in this critique," he said lightly, "we seemed to have skipped over one more important guest. What about you, Nan? What are you doing here?"

She looked up with a pleased, small smile. "You mean I fooled you. You couldn't tell?"

"Tell, Nan? Tell what?"

"That I'm hired help, dear."

"Hired help? Go back a little. You lost me."

"Do I have to spell it for you? Vera was having a party, she was short a gal, so she got on the phone, gave me a little ring-a-ling."

"You're not trying to tell me you're a...."

"Say it, Jay. There's nothing so damned shameful about it. There's thousands of us out here. Gals who were seduced by our own ambition. I'm a call girl, Jay. Plain and simple. I'm getting paid for tonight."

The pity he'd felt only seconds ago was traded for a strong sense of guilt. He felt somehow responsible for Nan's fallen state. For in a sense hadn't he helped make her what she was? In a very definite sense, he concluded, remembering Vonnie Parker on Monday.

And what do you say when a girl openly admits she's a call girl and proud of it? He laughed, tried to cover up his momentary embarrassment. "You sure had me fooled, Nan. I'd never in a million years....

Antagonism crept into her voice. "And so now all of a sudden I'm a pariah, one of the unclean. Isn't that right? The kind of gal you don't have anything to do with unless you have to have certain little nasties taken care of. I can tell, just from the way you're looking at me.

He smiled, at a loss. "Hey, Nan, come off it. Don't make a federal case out of it. I'm not saying all those things, you are. What are you trying to do, punish yourself?" He touched her hand. "Knock it off now. I'm in no position to condemn you or anybody. We are what we are. We've all got our reasons. There isn't a person living who hasn't sold out at some time or another in his life."

An awkward pause followed. Finally a shamefaced Nan turned, sent Jay a crooked grin. "Forgive it, Jay," she said. "I get like that every once in a while. Especially when I get boozed up. I guess you're right, I am trying to punish myself."

Abruptly she rose, smoothed her gown about her hips. "How about dancing with me?" she asked. "Boost the old morale a little? Looks like the masher's grotto is going full blast, Who're we to be prudes?"

They came into the small, darkened room and Nan floated into Jay's arms, fitted her body expertly to him. Dreamily they danced to Where or When, and Jay felt a slow warmth build inside him, a feeling of Tightness, as the girl expertly followed his lead, made him look like Fred Astaire. This could be a Saturday night date almost anywhere all over America.

Except for certain little variations that helped tarnish the picture. Things like the fact that Nan was a prostitute, that he, in his own sweet way, was a prostitute also-a lecher of the most unprincipled sort.

Like the fact that Vera was still dancing with her gangster friend, Pino Coya, giggling drunkenly as he pawed her fanny, made coarse reference to her anatomical gifts.

Like the fact that glimpse of Denise Duford and her sweetie out in the living room revealed him surrendering to her most candid advances, laying back in his chair with a silly smile on his face, while dear Denise was blissfully opening his clothing, sliding her hand inside.

Like the fact that Sandy Willson was being backed into a corner by her boy friend, was unconcernedly letting him remove her wispy ball gown. The same Sandy Willson who now came onto the floor clad in only her brassiere, girdle, stockings and pumps, still unconcerned as her partner slid his hands on her dully glowing, nyloned bottom. As he abandoned ordinary ballroom position, cupped both buttocks, pushed his belly to hers, went on dancing in this shameless fashion.

Date night, U. S. A.?

Hardly.

The dance had barely finished when Tenli advanced on Jay, pulled him from Nan Keller's arms. "Baby," she slurred, already very loaded, "my turn now. I've hardly had a minute with you all night. Having fun?"

"See you," Nan said laconically, and drifted off. Tenli giggled. "You aren't getting it for Nan, are you? You certainly know what she is."

Jay forced himself to pull Tenli close, felt irritation as she stumbled over his feet. "Yes," he said patiently, "I know what she is. But she's still a human being, isn't she?"

Tenli sniffed. "Barely." She clenched herself to Jay, pressed her belly tight to his; sent him a serpentine twist and a bunt. "Wow, dolly," she sighed, "have I got it for you tonight. I'll grind you up alive. Only...."

"Only what?"

"We've got a little surprise, Mother and I. Later. After that we'll go upstairs and rattle that bed by the hour." Her voice turned wistful. "But I don't know if I can hold out."

"What kind of a surprise?"

"Never you mind, honey. You'll see in good time."

But as one o'clock passed, stretched on toward two, Starr forgot about the mysterious surprise. For the drinking was definitely getting out of hand; there were surprises by the barrel. A whole parade of surprises.

Jay now realized that he was a novice in the drinking department, despite his drifter's past. For these degenerates drank with furious purpose and dedication, all but swilled alcohol, desperately waiting for the sublime moment when the liquor would release them from reality, let them float into that sexual limbo where no such thing as conscience and decency existed. Where they could disport themselves at their basest level.

The "witching hour" came very soon for some of them.

Especially Denise Duford, who by now had struggled out of all her clothes, was once again all wound up with Tom Halper, her naked legs trapping his, allowing him-encouraging him-to take any and all liberties with her.

The dulcet dance music had been replaced on the hi-fi now, exchanged for driving, ragged jazz, and Sandy Willson, still staggering around in her white, silky lingerie, stood in the center of the living room, weaving back and forth with her male partner, their bellies almost touching, doing an improvisation of The Twist.

While the others gathered round, hooted them to even further frenzy. Until the bodies did touch, twisted and bumped together, the male maintaining precarious balance byv clutching the willing Sandy's bouncing breasts.

Over near the bar, not to be outdone by her twin, Sylvia was stretched out on a bar stool, fighting to keep her perch, while her friend removed her shoes, her stockings. Now her dress. And finally, after frequent near-falls, her brassiere, girdle and panties were stripped off.

Whereupon her lover began to caress and kiss her breasts and belly. As innovation the polluted girl took the cherry from her drink, popped it between her breasts. Which tidbit her escort immediately gobbled up. The playful variation was instantly pounced upon by Vera, who took a half dozen cherries from the bar supplies, placed them in strategic places on the teetering, horizontal form. Again the man dutifully consumed them, stealing sadistic nips at her flesh in the process.

And things began to swing, really swing.

Jay sensed that Tenli was fast losing control, as she drove him backward on the davenport, half lying atop him, kissing him in deranged, liquid passion, her tongue dipping deep into his mouth, engaging his in the most erotic byplay, her lips dripping obscene promises of delights to come.

"Loosen up, baby," she kept pleading. "This's a party. Loosen up, let things fly for once."

If the truth were known, Jay was loosening up. To a dangerous extent. His vision was blurring, and along with it his equilibrium. He was no longer shocked at the sexual bedlam building up around him. In fact it was gradually assuming proportions of almost humdrum normality. It was the way things should go-who was to argue with that? In another minute he'd be stripping Tenli himself.

Momentarily he was pricked by conscience as he looked across the room, saw the simian-faced Coya directing Nan Keller-she now listing dangerously also-to climb upon one of the cocktail tables. Where she stood in mute tolerance while the man snaked her skirt up around her hips, made her hold it to reveal her underpinnings. Where she tolerated his sick attentions as he ran his stubby hands up and down her nyloned legs, stopping often to dig his fingers into the soft, tender flesh of her inner thighs.

"Later, doll," he finally dismissed her. "We'll tangle. You'n Pino. You sign me up. I'm first in line." Then snickering, he lurched toward the bar again.

The music seemed to grow louder, more deafening all at once. Jay Starr caught himself sucking at his drink with almost compulsive thirst.

And he looked up to see that Sandy Willson was in the last stages of undress, making a big production out of her impromptu strip show, throwing her undies at her admirers, offering her breasts, her fanny to any and all takers. Now she shook her bound hair loose, began a staggering dance, spinning round and round, delighting in the way centrifugal force made her breasts stand away from her body.

Her sister stumbled from the bar, a befuddled anger in her stare. Than, as if in direct competition, she drew her boy friend into the circle, began to undress him. An attention which the male, sloppy drunk, savored to the utmost. It was only when Sylvia stretched the naked man on the floor, hovered over him on all fours, began to go over his chest, then his belly with her lips, that Jay recalled Nan Keller's warning about the twins, and the fact that they dug it strange.

Vera Cardwell saw what the display's imminent outcome would be, and moved in to forestall it. "All right, you little witch," she stormed, pulling Sylvia away from the man, "none of that here. Save it for afterward, when you've got him up in one of the bedrooms."

Sylvia whimpered, struggled with Vera briefly, but thinking better of it, leaned, assisted her lover to his feet in a very singular manner. Moments later, they were twisted like a pretzel on a giant-economy-sized love-seat across the room, kissing as though their lives depended upon it.

It was when Jay felt that the pagan bacchanal could get no worse that Vera interceded, standing on one of the coffee tables herself, her needle heels marring it irreparably, calling for silence. Then, as the music was suddenly killed, he recalled Tenli's promise of a "surprise."

"Quiet, everybody," Vera called. "Quiet, I said." Gradually the tumult faded to a low murmur. And Jay saw Rex Quinel appear from an anteroom, pushing a small, wheeled table. On which rested a threaded movie projector. While behind him, a licentious smirk on her lips, Tenli trotted, carrying a screen and stand. "We're gonna show you the movies I promised you. So find a place to sit down. Don't none of you sneak off, these pictures are worth waiting for." Vera stepped down to a sprinkling of applause.

Jay's heart sank. He'd expected more than this. He knew what would come now: stag movies. And he'd had his fill of stag movies in his time. He was seized by the strongest impulse to bolt, to clear this loony bin.

But he never had a chance. For now Tenli reached his side, dragged him toward a chair. She pushed him down, flopped into his lap. "Y'r gonna like these, dar ... ling," she stammered. "These're somethin' real special."

Moments later the screen was up, the projector plugged in and focused. Then, at Vera's signal, Pino Coya flicked off the lights, pitched the room into darkness.

In the second before the projector whirred to life, a male curse exploded in the darkness. "Damn you, can't you wait?" the voice gritted. Everybody roared.

Then instantly went silent as the screen came alive, and they saw the interior of a house, some of them gasping as they recognized the room as the one in which they now sat. As they recognized Tenli, dressed in Capri pants and skin-tight blouse, sitting on the davenport. But who-what-was that kid doing there with her?

Jay stiffened, sat upright in the chair, fought to focus his eyes. Instantly he felt his hair brisde at the base of his scalp. What in hell? he raged.

Vera and Rex had edited the film, the first segment of that afternoon seduction of Billy Esser had been thrown away. Only the vital parts had been retained. Parts like Tenli kissing the terrified boy, the moment when she'd opened her blouse, revealed her breasts to him, when she'd made the boy undress her, had forced him to kiss her ankles, her legs. The rest-

A rising wind whistled through the room, a wind of sighs and murmurings. As the silent, exotic, deranged session went on. The expressions of amazement on the boy's face were incredibly moving. There was no need for words, or even sub-titles; the pantomime was, like all great acting, totally understandable to everyone present ... The bewilderment that turned to desire, then to helpless, maddening lust. A lust that made the inexperienced boy do anything the witch-wanton told him to.

Drunk as he was Jay still couldn't help but feel betrayal and despair, tinges of a terrible nausea-a nausea of the soul. How could Tenli have wallowed in a travesty like this? What pleasure could she have derived from indoctrinating the lad in the mysteries of love in so foul a manner? And what sick derelict could have stood by, taking those pictures?

"I don't understand, Tenli," he muttered to her. "How could you ... Who took those pictures? I don't get it at all."

"Shhh," she said. "Be quiet, darling. Just watch, enjoy yourself. Look at this part where he's taking off my clothes." She snickered thickly. "Look at that crazy expression on his face. Talk about mixed-up kids...."

Jay fell into stunned silence, his mind an insane turmoil of questions and accusations. His eyes affixed to the screen with terrible concentration, he couldn't have stopped looking had the world blown up in his face.

An unearthly collection of mans and sighs broke forth over on the davenport, and he glanced over briefly. Saw Denise Duford half on the davenport, half off. In the relected, dull light he saw the man fondling her belly and had not the least doubt of what he was doing to her. But it didn't matter; immediately the screen recaptured his eyes.

Where he now saw the boy avidly kissing the pale, reclining body, where he saw Tenli twisting in pagan enjoyment of his subjugation.

Now Tenli began to run her hands along Jay's legs. "Jay, baby, that gets me. God, how it gets me!"

"Who took those pictures?" he hissed, his tone indicating he wouldn't be put off this time. He wrenched Tenli's wrist. "Tell me, damn you!"

"Don't, Jay, you're hurting me. Don't spoil things." Still she watched the screen.

"Tell me!"

"Mother took them-who do you think? She's got a place where she hides."

"I suppose she's got pictures of you and me, too? Tell me. Does she?"

"I don't know," Tenli lied, still staring at the screen "I don't know. She might have. Why don't you ask her?" She stiffened. "Oh, Jay, watch! Look at the way he's getting on. The jerk, the little jerk."

Vera's voice carried clearly across the room. "Look at the little flea go! He's like to fall in! "It's like he's got a bronco by the tail, and doesn't know how to let go." She giggled. "Rex, stop that! Isn't this rich? Isn't this about the greatest?"

"Why?" Jay gritted into Tenli's ear. "Why did she take these pictures? What earthly good are they?"

"What good?" Tenli smiled. "They're so good they got me on the verge of things. That's what good. Don't be so dense, Jay! We get our kicks this way. Vera gets kicks watching, I get kicks seeing these pictures. What's more important than kicks? Don't be such a sap, darling. Enjoy it, enjoy it!"

Finally the film was ending, the boy was gone, and a weary, sated Tenli was seated on the edge of the davenport, smiling blissfully to herself. It was at that moment that the film ran out, and the screen went glaring white.

To reveal a twisted tangle of bodies, to catch people with their hands where they shouldn't be. Liberties were hastily ceased. Except for Sylvia Willson, in a far corner, who was finally having her way with her lover boy. Who wasn't using her hands at all. And who didn't care who watched.

"Leave 'em be," Vera crowed, "let 'em have their fun. Take off, everybody. Show's over. Any bed that's free ... make your own show. Do-it-yourself time."

Immediately there was a wild scrambling in the room, and males and females, in all stages of undress, were hurrying before the harsh light, casting eerie shadows on the screen. There was a grand traffic jam on the stairs. Jay caught glimpse of Coya pushing a staggering Nan Keller before him, his hands already pawing her all over.

Tenli was pulling Jay, but to no avail. There was one more errand he must complete before he went upstairs with the agitated voluptuary. He must finish the job of forgetting. Then he could see the degraded night through. "This way," Tenli pleaded, trying to hold him back. But he wasn't to be denied.

Only when the fifth of Scotch was tucked under his arm did he let her lead him upstairs.

He couldn't understand any of this. He only knew he didn't like it. But for tonight, he had to get in the same condition as those other deviates who were so madly stampeding up those stairs.

He twisted out the cap with his teeth, spat it into the darkness, took a healthy pull. The whisky burned all the way down. But he felt better. Much better.

Tenli was naked on the bed, waiting for him, avidly watching him as he weaved and lurched about the room undressing. Then finally, after a last restorative slug of Scotch, he came toward her.

He wondered briefly at the weird position Tenli had assumed, her head and shoulders half hanging off the bed, her buttocks forming a pivot, while her hands were on the floor, balancing her. "What'n hell you think you're doing?" he challenged gruffly.

"Turn off the lights, Jay," she moaned. "I wanna try it this way, I've heard it's wonderful like this. Hurry, damn you!"

The room was plunged into blackness. "There's gonna be no hurrying tonight, doll," he muttered. "I'm so drunk it'll take until dawn."

"That's dandy, stud-baby, jus' dandy," she squealed. "I hope it lasts till Christmas."

There was a rustling and rumbling, a sibilant mistral of giggles, whispers and curses, as the union was made. Then Tenli was visciously goading him on.

"They weren't fooling, not at all," she sighed. This's the greatest. It gets right down to the heart of things. Whooee, lover! Do it. Ride me, ride me like you never rode before...."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jay Starr was sick on Sunday and Monday, sicker than he'd been in many a year. In fact he couldn't remember a time, except during that grim aftermath of Maria's betrayal, when he'd suffered such hangover agony, both physical and spiritual.

On Sunday-he never did recall how he'd ever got back to his apartment, or at what time-he remained in bed all day, not moving, not eating, not thinking, his skull feeling like someone had sprinkled tacks inside it, and was now kneading and massaging it to make sure that each barb was duly imbedded into the raw, throbbing tissue.

In actuality, when his stomach rebelled, when he had to break for the bathroom to void his guts, he couldn't walk; he was forced to crawl on all fours.

Thus all through Sunday and Sunday night he lay in a comatose state, sleeping and waking, groaning and retching, more dead than alive.

When he awoke on Monday morning he was still weak, his head still buzzed and reeled dangerously when he struggled up from his bed. And he knew it Would be ridiculous to attempt going to the office. If he could gather enough reserve, make his brain stop spinning long enough, he could make a few necessary phone calls, cancel certain appointments. The rest of it would just have to wait. The whole world could shut down so far as he was concerned.

Somehow, after about the third attempt, he managed to keep some food down-eggs, toast, and coffee, plus what seemed like gallons of water-and gradually, very gradually, he walked among the living once more.

Then to the phone calls.

Afterward, he brought pillows, covers out into the living room, and still in his sweaty pajamas, he lay on the davenport trying to watch TV's mid-morning garbage. But he might as well not have bothered, for he kept dropping oft to sleep. And when he wasn't sleeping there were other more damning accusations dominant in his mind than the insipid offerings of television.

Things like Tenli Cardwell. And Vera Cardwell. And the party in Bel Air.

Strangely enough, there was even a fleeting slot into which remembrance of a lost-eyed redhead named Nan Keller was inserted. And for some completely unexplainable reason memory of her face seemed important, warmed him vaguely, became forgiveness for the debauch in which he'd so willingly wallowed.

But mostly it was Tenli and Vera and their depraved playmates.

Most exasperating was the fact that there was so little he actually remembered about what had transpired between him and Tenli once they'd got upstairs. Had he managed to acquit himself with any semblance of male virility? Or had Tenli finally given up in disgust?

There were fuzzy stabs and Teachings of memory, when uncertain vignettes played at the outer reaches of his subconscious, and he struggled bravely to bring the pictures into focus. But again and again they faded, and he was staring into bleak emptiness.

What had happened?

Faint echoings rang in the corridor of his brain, a chiaroscuro of whispers and shadows, and he tried to identify the mouse-like scurryings. Tenli and someone else? Vera perhaps? Had they both been in the bedroom with him?

For the briefest instant it seemed he recalled TenK raggedly calling to him, her hands arousing him frantically, and that failing, Tenli going to still another twisted extreme. And somewhere, mixed up in the eerie dissonance of their screams and whisperings, he had a distinct image of himself lying supine, on his back, barely conscious, while Vera Cardwell sat on his belly, took precise, hairline charge of things, inducing her own climax, in pagan self-indulgence, her body writhing, rising and falling, hammering his with savage persistence.

Then-afterward-hadn't there been long moments when it had seemed he'd suffocate if Tenli didn't stop-

Beyond these harrowing ponderings there were other, more clear-cut recollections. Of the things that had been eternally branded on his brain, the wild variations the Cardwells' guests had indulged in, and-glaringly predominant-re-creation of the film that Vera Card-well had shown.

It was enough to stand any man's hair on end.

For what did it mean? He was a supposedly knowledgable, sophisticated man, he should know that grown women don't go around taking motion pictures of each other while engaged in the love act. Not just because they're collectors of love, because-as Tenli had alibied-this was the way they achieved their kicks. There had to be more to it than that.

But what? Perhaps they actually were, again as Tenli had inferred, sybarites and voluptuaries of the worst sort. It wouldn't be the first time that such a sensation cult had been unearthed. In Hollywood especially. After all, he'd known on Saturday night, the party barely an hour old, what the Cardwells' guest were, why they had gathered; orgy was painted on their foreheads in inch-high letters. And hadn't he flung himself into the debauch, hadn't he come on strong when the chips were down? Nobody had chained him to the wall or anything.

Briefly he considered blackmail. Judging from the angle at which the movie of Tenli and her juvenile lover had been shot, the camera must have been secreted behind the massive mirror which graced the wall opposite the davenport. It could be used to deadly advantage if such were the mother and daughter's inclinations.

But as quickly he dismissed the thought. After all, the Cardwells were wealthy in their own right, there was no doubt about that. An inheritance from shrewd oil investment, the income from a posh beauty salon-why would they have to dabble in as deadly a game as extortion?

Another conjecture. Which made his suspicions utterly laughable. Since when do blackmailers waste their time and money making flicks of fourteen-year-old kids? What kind of gravy was there in a thing like that? The kid's allowance perhaps? And he smiled wryly to himself. You're being ridiculous, pal. Keep it up and you'll be funny-farm bait in no time at all.

Another doubt crystallized, however. That the matter of the all-seeing mirror in the Cardwell living room, and the inevitable camera equipment hidden behind it. Had that camera been trained, at one time or another, on him and Tenli as they'd gamboled in that living room, on that free-form davenport?

Again there came negation of the blackmail theme. For certainly they could expect no hush money from him. They could threaten him to hell and back, and he wouldn't pay them one red cent. He had nothing to lose, he was a free agent, a nonentity flack-ball, they had nobody to hurt but themselves. He knew it, and, he was sure, they knew it.

So why the sweat?

Which helped him form his final conclusion on that recuperative Monday. Tenli and Vera Cardwell were unabashedly avowed sensualists: there was a pagan, uncontrollable streak in their makeups that drove them to pursue perpetual and aberratedly sexual fandangos, that made all other facets of normal life pale to nothingness in comparison.

Where there was fine food and drink, expensive, luxurious clothing and surroundings, where there was a man libertine enough to indulge their wild fancies, where there was an empty bed-

That had to be the answer. There could be no other explanation.

Which brought him back to the beginning. Back to a certain Mr. Jay Starr. And to his involvement with these two wantons.

For what was he going to do about it?

Certainly no good would come of his continuing the relationship. Without a doubt he was being used, he was so much meat on the hoof to Vera and Tenli. They would toy with him until he ceased to please them, and then he would be dumped. It was an animalistic, sensualist liaison on his part as well as theirs from which no good-and perhaps even tragic repercussions-could come.

And repeat: what was he going to do about it?

There was no denying that he was inextricably trapped in the web of sin the two women had woven about him. And perhaps, he was ashamed to admit, he didn't really want to break from that gossamer cocoon just yet. True, he wanted no more evenings like that which he'd just weathered, he'd have his sin sans all that joy-juice if it was all the same to Tenli and Vera. He didn't think he'd be able to survive another hangover like this one.

And tiredly, not wanting to hurry things in the least, he decided that he'd go back to the Cardwell's pleasure dome a few times more, sample forbidden fruit-all flavors-just a little longer. At least once more, for he knew that once they'd passed out of his life, he'd never encounter another so completely sex-nutty a couple again.

Wrong it might be. Starr needed no one to tell him he was degenerating to their animal level, that in surrendering to their corrupt allure, he was debasing himself, losing his birthright as a human. But what was he to do? Just thinking about Tenli now, sick as he was, he was stirred by fires of venery, he felt tinglings of desire, like tiny, hot tentacles, scurry through his body.

After all, he was a man. Uncontrollably caught up in a sensualist trance, wanting to accompany the sex-cats all the way to the end of the line. And despite the fact that he realized his weakness, that he realized he was renouncing his God-given maleness and dignity, he was helpless to do otherwise.

For, in final compilation-he was a man.

Tenli and Vera were women. And what women I Women the like of which he'd never encounter again.

Thus: one more time anyway. One more interlude in limbo. One more journey into Elysian paradise. After that, he could start thinking about severing their barbaric relationship.

But now, as Jay Starr focused his eyes, returned to the reality of day, felt the dull pain still throbbing deep in his skull, he had certain misgivings.

He would see Tenli again. But not for several more days. He wouldn't send a boy to do a man's job.

Which must have been one of Tenlf's and Vera's New Year's resolutions also: to lay off. For the whole week passed then the weekend, and still neither Jay nor Tenli had got in touch. Things were mighty quiet at the Beverly Glen Boulevard address also.

For which Jay was extremely grateful.

Jay used the truce to good advantage. It was a ceasefire in which he got much back-order business out of the way. His press agentry wasn't of the spectacular, shock and bomb sort. He had none of his clients parachute onto the Hollywood Freeway at rush hour to attract attention to themselves, he let none of his clients herd a leashed flock of penquins down Hollywood Boulevard at high noon. His modus operandi was of a more discreet, more continuing nature.

His customers were, for the most part, already well-established entertainment figures; they didn't require the splashy, gawdy publicity some of the younger opportunists employed. If their names appeared in the newspapers, in the trade rags, in the TV gossip shows with reasonable frequency, they were content. Their "image" was secure.

If Jay Starr could plant a few "items" in the gossip grapevine, if he could put the bug in certain producers' ears that Monica Ference would look good on one of the TV panel shows, Monica was well satisfied. And that kept her $500 monthly check coming in just like clockwork.

Jay was known for his low-pressure methods, and well thought of in Hollywood circles. Granted, he could have had more clients had he wanted to hump. But he'd had his fill of humping. He was making a fair living, and, hell, let it go at that.

But even low-pressure publicity boys have to make a certain number of contacts. And that's what Jay had been letting slide lately. Ever since Tenli Cardwell had barged into his life.

It was an ideal opportunity to make up for lost time.

Which he did. Among his accomplishments that week was the garnering of a medium-important role for Vonni Parker-his conscience acting up on him-in a low-budget detective film. The coup brought the poor kid blubbering to his office, eliciting the not-too-subtle bffer to grace his carpet-or any other suitable backrest-once more as show of her gratitude. Which offer he turned down, suggesting cash instead, and no rush.

But this was a minor thing, only one of the many raveled threads he gathered up, all in all getting his business affairs on an even keel once more, giving his clients more than their money's worth.

But that Sunday night, as he sat alone in his apartment, again trying to concentrate on the dismal TV offerings, he was plagued by a distinct restlessness. He was lonely; he couldn't get Tenli out of his mind. It was then that he decided he was ready for another go. He was ready for whatever would come next. And the devil take the hindmost-he'd call Tenli tomorrow for sure.

Thus he was surprised when his phone rang, when he recognized Tenli's sex-squirmy voice on the other end of the line. Immediately the excitement ballooned in him.

"Hello, stranger," she cooed, "long time no see. What happened? Did we scare you off? I've missed you."

"Never happen," he said flippantly. "I've been taking things cool. Recuperating, if you want the God's truth."

"Come now, it wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't it? Honey, I wish you could look at it from my end of the barrel once. You'd have appropriate sympathy then, I'll bet."

"Oh?" she simpered. "Maybe I would at that. How do you feel now? Or is this a permanent convalescence?"

"No, I'm in great shape. In face, I was just thinking of calling you. What've you got in mind?"

"How about tomorrow night? Just you and me over here. We can make popcorn, look at the Sears catalog together. How does that sound?"

"I don't believe a word of it. But it's a date just the same. And Tenli...."

"Yes?"

"No crowds, huh?"

"Anything you say, darling. Night." Jay stood with the silent phone in his hands. Then it was hard to concentrate on television.

Monday night is considered, by those in the know, as the slowest night in the week. Be that as it may, it certainly wasn't the case at the Cardwell manse a scant twenty-four hours later.

Tenli had deceived in one small respect. For they weren't alone. It wasn't much of a crowd, but as the adage goes, "Three's a crowd," the mob, in this case, constituted by the very ominous presence of Vera Card-well.

Both women were dressed to the teeth, their get-ups sexy to the n-th degree, and Jay instantly knew that something very extraordinary was up, that he hadn't just dreamed the bit about Vera and Tenli ganging up on him that fateful Sunday near dawn. And if the getups weren't clue enough; if the sheer, tinted hosiery, the provocative, rapier-toed pumps could be ignored; if the predatory, darkly glowing light in their eyes; then certainly the way their presence seemed to smother and devour him couldn't be.

Tenli sat close to him on the davenport, immediately drawing his head down to hers, bestowing a liquid, scorching kiss. While Vera sent to the bar, hummingly mixed up a generous batch of martinis. It was obvious she would be with them all evening long.

"Go easy there, Vera," Jay called, being more frank than was necessary, but firmly intending to meet them on their own grounds, let them know he suspected what tonight's frolic would bring. "Not too much booze for me. I want to be around at the end tonight, I want to be able to enjoy it, to see what and who I'm doing."

Vera didn't miss the crack. "Just as you say, dear. It'll make things easier all the way around." And she advanced with the pitcher and three glasses on a tray.

"Here we are," she sighed contentedly, filling and offering the glasses. Then taking hers, she sat on Jay's other side, her shoulders brushing his, making no attempt to disguise the bold overture. Her eyes glittered as she slid the shiny toe of her shoe against his ankle.

Tenli had never looked lovelier. Dressed in a green sheath, her shoes a conglomeration of darker green overlaid sequins, she was a rhapsody of blatant sensuality. Her hair was done in a boyish Marienbad cut, a large glistening bang falling over her forehead. More interesting were the five thin plackets of hair which she'd sprayed a flourescent green, graceful lines adding accent to the dove-gray eye-shadow She wore, making her eyes enchantingly sultry.

While Vera, not to be outdone in exotic detail, had used turquoise eye-shadow to devastating effect, coloring in her entire eyelids all the way to the brow like the Franch cocottes celebrated in the Van Dongen paintings. The touch seemed comic at first, but became more intriguing by the moment. The bright blue went well with her blondeness, gave special compliment to her modified beehive hairdo.

If ever there were two women patently out to vamp-Jay thought. And he was pierced by pinpricks of fear. Will I be up to it? Just as quickly the fear fled, cynicism taking its place. There was no worry on that score. They'd see to it that he was up to them. They had ways.

For the next hour or so, as they finished a second martini, waiting for the liquor to loosen them up somewhat, they made small, unimportant, almost genteel chatter, none of them making any reference whatsoever to the party. Until, as they were halfway into their third drink, Vera smiled smugly, dug her nails into Jay's thigh. "Well, shall we begin?" she asked.

"I'm game if you are," he smiled stiffly, his pulse quickening all at once. "What's on the agenda? Tenli said something about a Sears catalog."

"We've got something better than that," Vera sniffed. "We've got some movies we think you'll like."

"Again?" Jay said, knowing intuitively who the featured players would be. "Seems to me I sat through this bit just a few nights ago."

"You'll enjoy these," Tenli chirped, pulling his head down, playfully darting her pointed tongue into his ear. "They're really something."

And they were. Almost as if by magic Vera produced the screen, wheeled in the already-threaded projector, killed the lights, refilled their glasses, all seemingly in the matter of minutes. "We haven't even had a chance to look at these," Vera said, coming beside Jay, preeningly placing his free arm around her shoulders, emulating Tenli and snuggling close. "My man just delivered them this afternoon."

Knowing what to expect, having made spacious peace with himself, Jay was not quite so shocked as he saw himself and Tenli, the love they made that first night, captured for eternity on celluloid.

Though there was no shock, that is not to say that Jay was able to watch the slow unfolding drama with detachment. Hardly-for instantly, as he recognized himself with Tenli he couldn't forestall certain physical reactions to the filming.

For after all, how many men have viewed movies of themselves as they made love to the dolly of their choice? And how many could watch with dispassionate interest?

Name one.

Jay Starr flunked also. For as the projector whirred on, as the screen revealed him kneeling beside Tenli, attending her breasts, as the frames ground relentlessly on to the moment when he undressed her, when he undressed himself, he began to tremble uncontrollably. It felt like his heart swelled, jammed in his throat. Almost reflexively he dropped both hands, began to caress both Vera's and Tenli's breasts simultaneously.

A liberty which was eagerly encouraged. As both women guided and held his hand with theirs, began trembling in a matching storm of agitation. "You're getting it, huh, baby?" Vera gritted, sliding her temple against his chin. "You're going to be a good stallion? For both of us?" And her hands dropped to his leg, did furtive reconnaissance. "You are, baby, aren't you? Already?"

"You don't mind, do you, darling," Tenli sighed, "if I share you with Vera tonight?" Her hand dropped also, did similar exploration, lingered lovingly.

On the screen he was paying shudder-wracked obeisance to Tenli's ivory body, he was rapidly reaching the moment when he'd take her, begin his ecstatic ride. While here, with these two clawing, steamed-up women at his disposal, his hands full, beside himself with desire, something snapped in Jay's mind. All the way, his brain raged. Anything they wanted, anything the wantons dared to dream up.

Now the screen revealed his body locked with Tenli's, it showed his legs clenching, his muscles straining, it showed the delighted carnality on Tenli's face as again and again she achieved her holy victory.

While here on the davenport both women were twisting and sighing uncontrollably, shifting their bodies so he could better attend their breasts. Their hands had long deserted his, and were now down on his legs, sliding, clawing, fighting each other for position on his belly, around his thighs.

"You won't mind, Jay," Tenli repeated the question, " ... with Vera?"

His voice was husky, arrogant. "Why should I mind? If I could do it the other night, I can do it tonight."

Vera snickered. "You remember, huh? I thought you were out cold."

"I remember all right," he lied.

"Everything?" Tenli quaked, her hands suddenly more punishing. "Everything we did?"

"Most df it."

Vera's laugh was guttural. "Well remind you tonight. You won't forget any of it this time. Not tonight."

"Why?" Jay asked. "What special charge do you get out of these pictures? Why did you take them, Vera?"

"Why?" she gritted angrily "What the hell kind of question is that? Why do you think? Are you getting as much a charge out of this as I am? Are you?"

"Yes...."

"Then why ask? We get our thrill this way. If there isn't a man handy we can always spend Saturday night at the movies, getting all charged up. Isn't that right, Tenli?"

"Yes, Vera."

"Some people get their boots talking about it, some read about it. We go 'em all one better We got the real article here: movies. Living, breathing movies. And when we got a guy around, what better way to get him ready, to make him do anything we want?"

Jay squeezed Vera's breast cruelly and laughed. "You're sick, Vera Real sick."

"Sure I'm sick, maybe I'm a sex fiend But then everybody's sick in their own special way. Only they won't face up to it. At least Tenli and I are honest about what we are. We dig sex. We aren't afraid to tell the whole world about it."

It was at that moment that the film came to an end. Once more, as, at the party, the screen reflected glaring, blinding light. Reluctantly Vera pulled herself from Jay, went to turn the projector off. Almost immediately another small lamp flared to life at the bar, to reveal a wild-eyed Vera mixing fresh martinis in reckless haste. "You two take your glasses," she choked, "get up those stairs. I'll be right up."

Immediately a glassy-eyed Tenli, a tigress in heat, was pulling Jay to his feet, hurrying him toward the spiral stairwell. "Baby, baby, baby," she was moaning in incoherent gibberish.

Jay Starr stood in the bedroom's center, his face frozen in an arrogant smile. He was in the driver's seat and he knew it. These two steaming dolls wanted something he had, and he was definitely going to make them work for it. The evilness of the situation-a mother and her daughter fighting over him-stunned him, threw every existing standard he'd ever known out the window. He'd take and take-and only when he was ready, would he give.

It seemed that Tenli instinctively understood her and Vera's disadvantage, but instead of resenting it, was seemingly content to wallow in it, to exploit the turnabout to its outermost ramifications.

Tenli was down to his shirt by the time Tera arrived with the fresh drinks, was frantically pulling it from his trousers. "Wait," Vera croaked, immediately putting the pitcher on the dresser, "let me help too."

It gave Jay a tremendous sense of supremacy and potency to see the two beautiful women kneeling at his feet, jostling and elbowing each other to untie and remove his shoes, scrambling to undo his belt, run his fly. Now they were both drawing off his clothing, making a ritual of it. When his shirt had joined the other male clothing on the chair, both women attacked his under-shorts, demented passion shining in their gaze.

Then they were on their feet, lingeringly working off his undershirt, their hands immediately sliding on his chest and back, the weight of their bodies, the hot, cloying scent of their very need, propelling him backward toward the bed. Where they fell upon him, caressed him everywhere.

Shortly they withdrew, arranged pillows beneath his head. Vera brought him a brimming martini, held it to his lips. "You stud," she sighed thickly. "You beautiful stud. Let me take care of you. I'm first."

"No!" Tenli shrieked. "He's mine! I want him first. Just because you're my mother, you think you ... can....

"Shut up!" Vera tore. "I said I'm first and that's all there is to it!"

Jay chuckled. "Well, I don't know about that, Vera. I might have a little something to say about that."

"Oh?" she smirked. "And who are you picking?"

"I don't know yet. I haven't seen what either of you gals are offering." He paused, let this minor extortion sink in. "Peel, both of you. Let's see which one of you can interest old Jay the most."

"You devil," Tenli giggled. "You want to make a contest out of it? Okay, I got nothing to lose."

And then and there began one of the strangest competitions in the annals of bedroom lore. As mother and daughter performed a prolonged, inflaming strip show, vying with each other for the initial moment with this smugly leering man. And a magnificent show it was, almost as if each had had premonition of how the evening would turn out, had come prepared, each attired in devastatingly sexy lingerie.

Jay sucked in his breath searingly as Tenli dropped her dress, kicked it aside. To display her body, cunningly draped in a brassiere and panties, green hosiery, a black garter-belt. The brassiere and panties a novelty item, made of the same sequin-clustered material as her shoes, the bra cut in a straight line across the swell of her breasts, the panties the skimpiest bikinis imaginable.

Which bikini she now released by pulling a single draw string. And gyrating her hips in a lewd bump and grind, she let the garment slide down her silky legs, this divestment, in turn, showing the seductively conceived line of her garter-belt. The brassiere came away now, and she swayed and twirled, wearing only her stockings and shoes, stopping often to revolve her pert, dimpled buttocks in Jay's direction.

But Vera was not to be outdone. Jay's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, as he saw how slowly she let her gown slither down her body, twitching her shoulders ever so slightly when it caught, the motion making her rouged nipples bounce and vibrate with maddening beauty.

It was only the birth of amazement, for as the gown flowered at her feet, Jay's jaw dropped and he saw that Vera was wearing a modern and exciting version of bloomers. Pure white, tucked in charming folds at the waist, they flared away to puffy balloons above the knees, forming a bouffant semi-skirt. They were made of the sheerest nylon, crisp and totally transparent, one layer beneath the other, reminding him of abbreviated harem pants.

The lean slope of Vera's shoulders as she feigned modesty, ducked her head, covered her breasts with long, slim fingers, was eminently alluring. Her long legs, thin and lovely, partially astride, her pointed slippers turned out, created a classic stylishness that turned Jay's entrails to so much mush. There was no doubt as to which woman he wanted first.

But even here, the wise, experienced woman consolidated her gains even further. For instead of removing the rakish bloomers herself, she came to the bed, swayed before Jay. "You, lover," she crooned, "you take 'em off for Vera. Please?"

With trembling hands Jay did just that. While an enraged Tenli hovered in the background. "You witch," she choked, "you cheap witch."

"Sore loser," Vera tittered, turned to Jay. "Rub my legs, baby. Go ahead, love 'em up."

She too wore a garter-belt, and stood proudly before Jay, her most intimate blondeness in blatant exhibition, as his hands feverishly coursed up and down her pale, blue-nyloned legs.

And then it was time. As Tenli went to the wall switch, flicked off the lights.

In the darkness both women came to the bed, Vera still wearing her spiked heels, both women retaining their stockings. Gently they pushed Jay back on the bed, and their soft hands began to course over his body. Jay sensed a delight of the most mind-stunning sort, as Vera slid her lips upon his chest, on his stomach. While Tenli hovered over him, fed him her breasts with her own fingers.

While Vera's hands were-

It seemed he would go out of his mind from the medley of sensations that went through him. As hands, lips, silken legs moved over him in unprincipled abandon.

Often, during that endless preplay, the women stopped, drifted off, brought their martini glasses to the bed, sipped and fed Jay, firing up for what must eventually come. Until finally he was gasping, small anticipatory whines breaking from his throat.

"You want me now?" Vera breathed victoriously. "You ready to do me to a royal turn?"

"Yes," Jay intoned. "Yes. Only...."

"Yeah? Only what?"

"You said something about me not forgetting anything about tonight. All the stuff you did at the party ... "

Vera's laugh was a musical tinkle. "Greedy. All you have to do is ask, lover. Right now?"

"Now."

"Okay. You first, Tenli. Then mother will finish up." She squirmed up on the bed, held her breasts to Jay's lips. "They're cold, baby. Warm them up."

As Jay complied, he felt Tenli's silkbound leg graze his shoulder. Then he felt something else. Something delightful, soothing beyond his wildest expectations. Then painful. He started, gasped, went stiff. As it became delightful once more. Brother, he thought.

While Vera hissed a pained outcry. "Don't bite, Jay. Be gentle. That's it, gentle, gentle...."

Jay was gentle. As gentle as it was possible for him, to be in view of what Tenli was so eagerly and sadistically doing to him.

Then, finally, the sweet ministrations ceased, and Tenli was crawling upward on the bed. Vera withdrew her breasts. He felt the cold, smooth leather of her shoe touch his bare arm.

And Vera and Tenli, all through that long night, the night that ended only when dawn colored the room with metallic grayness, showed him the face of an evil, aberrated love-a grinning, mocking phantom he would never forget so long as he lived.

CHAPTER EIGHT!

The office on North La Cienega, the legend on its impersonal frosted-glass door reading Jay Starr-Publicity Agent, remained empty all day Tuesday. Several callers dropped by, pounded the door futilely, the phone rang an even dozen times. But there was going to be no business done in that sanctum this day.

For Jay Starr was once again in hiding, fighting his way up from a bone-pulverizing torpor, his mind dazed and ravaged. It was not alcohol this time-there hadn't really been respite enough during those bestial hours-it was not hangover that had laid him up. Instead it was physical breakdown, lingering soul-weariness.

In a word: Jay Starr was pooped. He was a drained, shattered husk.

It would be many and many a day before he could even think of a woman again, much less enter into actual bedroom combat. And until then, the memories etched on the screen of his brain-pagan beyond description-would do very nicely, thank you.

And so, shell-shocked and disbelieving, he lounged about his apartment all that day, went to bed at nine that night, his mind boggling at remembrance of the things he'd let the two Cardwell vampires do to him, the things he'd let them coax and coerce him into doing to them.

If the devil were to wear high heels-If the devil resembled a flack named Jay Starr-Even more devastating than remembrance of what depravities had transpired that night, was the harrowing wonder filling him as he recalled how eagerly and willingly he'd entered into their evil games, how greedily he'd pursued ugly sensation after ugly sensation.

For somewhere during that long night there had occurred a strange reversal. And he'd no longer been taking advantage of Vera and Tenli. He'd swiftly become the victimized. He'd been converted. Until he was rooting, wallowing, submerging his humanity in the sucking quicksand of their psychotic lust. Until he'd become even more of an animal than they.

Wasn't it the truth? For didn't he recall Vera's sniggering taunt, delivered sometime near dawn? As he'd finished a particularly disgusting variation-"Welcome to the club, baby," hadn't she said? Welcome to the club.

Oh, he was hooked all right. Alkies had their booze, hopheads their dope. And Jay Starr, boy sex addict? He had Tenli and Vera. He was on sex, and he couldn't lay off. He was craving, but good. He was hung up on the habit.

And he shuddered, tried to shake the ugly realization from his brain. It wasn't sol He couldn't be that far gone! There was still a chance!

He'd cut out, he decided. No matter how many times Tenli or Vera called, no matter what dirty tricks they attempted, he wouldn't go back. He'd never see them again. He'd caught himself in the nick of time, he was still strong enough to fight their Satanic spell. He'd never see them again.

And insomuch as Jay Starr had any religious background, he made a sacred vow to himself that no matter what, he wouldn't return to Vera and Tenli, he wouldn't grunt and rut in their slimy, foul hog-run again. I swear, I swear, he repeated again and again.

Then he congratulated himself upon the resolve, on the inner peace and strength he sensed as he got into bed, fell into an almost instant and dreamless sleep.

But upon awakening the next morning, as soon as the second cup of coffee had cleared his head, he was seized by new, swamping panic. For the mocking images of the Cardwells were back again, as alive and alluring as ever. And he was filled with a most terrible longing to see them, to sink into that sick morass of sexuality with them again.

I crave, he thought, I crave.

And panic cleaved him. Is it true? he raged. Have I turned into a degenerate swine? Is is already too late? What's going to happen to me?

Neither of the women called Jay during the remainder of that week, for which he was thankful. For he wondered, had they called, whether he'd have been strong enough to honor his vow. Probably not, he conceded often during those busy days, for he himself had been on the verge of calling them more than a few time. But somehow, drawing on unknown resources, he'd always managed to stifle the impulse.

He chose to bury himself under an avalanche of work, running, ferreting, returning to his "humping" ways of old. Anything to keep his mind off Vera and Tenli. Withdrawn alcoholics had their candy. He had his work. And much as he detested his eager-beaver proclivities, he had to admit that it was paying dividends. For he was able to keep the Cardwells at bay most of the time. Another bonus: by week's end he'd signed three new clients, accounts that couldn't help but become very lucrative.

It was a screwball turn indeed.

But the weekend loomed, and with each passing day his fear mounted. Without the flurry of work, without activity, would he succumb to their siren call? Would he phone Tenli and Vera?

An unexpected stroke of luck befell him on Saturday night, as Ben Malson, a long-time friend, invited him to his home for dinner. Where Penny, Ben's vivacious and charming wife-an indefatigable matchmaker

-had produced Wilma Scott, a pretty but rather flat schoolmarm of twenty-eight, whom she considered a likely candidate for Mrs. Starr II.

It was a warm, friendly evening, filled with bridge and small talk, and though Jay wasn't about to follow up on Miss Scott, he'd been more than grateful for it. It had been a desperately needed reprieve.

But Sunday night found him alone, definitely on tenterhooks, trying to involve himself in a book. What he should do, he told himself, was to go out and get plastered. But he knew that was dangerous. God knows what he'd do if he was drunk. Undoubtedly he'd make a beeline for the Cardwell crazyhouse.

Then what other alternative? And a strange manifestation made itself known within him. For where he'd thought on Tuesday that he'd never again in his life want a woman, want sex with her, he was now very definitely in need of one. Instantly, he thought of Tenli.

And as instantly realized that it would be the worst possible thing he could do. He'd kept his resolve this far, this relapse would mean ruination. But who then?

He thought of Vonni Parker, wondered if she was still of a grateful turn. Grateful enough to come over, go to bed with him? Promptly he rejected her. There was something about her craven weakness, about her almost masochistic willingness to be trampled, that was unappetizing.

Craven weakness-the words rankled. He was one hell of a person to adjudge that quality in others.

His mind struck out again, tried to find a likely doll to share his sheets with him tonight. Then he thought of Kan Keller.

It was the most ridiculous thing in the world. To consider ringing up a call girl, paying fifty dollars for pallid substitute for the frenetic, ring-a-ding sex that Tenli or Vera or both would eagerly confer gratis. He must have rocks in his head.

And yet, recalling Nan further, remembering the fleeting exchange that night at the Cardwell orgy, the feeling of warmth that had suffused him as they'd talked, he knew he wanted her very much. His thoughts tumbled. Compassion from a call girl?

He went to the phone book and found Nan's number. He had no out; he needed a girl. But he didn't want to fall into that abyss of carnality with Tenli and Vera again. Fifty bucks was cheap at the price.

"This's kinda short notice, isn't it?" Nan Keller said flippantly. "You think I'm just sitting around waiting for you to call? What happened to your other friends? That oversexed Tenli Cardwell?"

Jay's confusion turned to irritation. "That's a long story. Skip it, will you? You want the date or not?"

"Mmm, touchy, aren't we? Okay, Jay, I'll drop by. An hour be okay?"

"Yeah, that'll be fine."

"Give me that address again. Yes, I've got it." Her tone turned teasing. "Cab fare extra, dolly?"

"Yes," he snapped. "Cab fare extra."

It was ten before Nan appeared. Again Jay was moved by the woman's quiet, refined beauty. She looked more like the stereotyped, virtuous minister's wife than what she really was. Tonight she wore a clinging rayon print, the blues and pinks in the swirling flowers very bright, very complimentary to her red hair. Pretty white pumps graced her tiny feet.

They sat listening to the soft, soothing music emanating from jay's modest hi-fi ensemble, both drinking an imported sherry Jay was fond of, both falling into a reflective mood.

"You in a hurry?" he asked. "I mean, do you have to rush off?"

"No," she said levelly. "Just you tonight. I'm not one of your mass-production tramps. Quality, not quantity, that's my motto."

Jay sensed her harsh words were cover-up for something more sensitive inside her. She was throwing up a smokescreen. "I wish you wouldn't talk like that," he said.

"Sorry, Jay. I get someplace like this, I hear music, take my time drinking, I don't have some bozo bulldozing me into the bedroom the minute I hit port, and I get moody. I get to feeling sorry for myself."

Jay smiled wryly. "You're kidding. You don't really mean there are guys who hurry things that much."

"Don't I? You'd be surprised the kind of brutes I run up against. They think they paid, they can do any damn thing they please." She held out her glass. "That was good. Another? Or is it getting to be that time?"

Jay rose, filled her glass again. Felt desire slowly rise within him at the sight of her lovely legs, at the sight of her large, piquant breasts straining the shiny fabric of her dress, rising and falling in slow swell. "Not yet, Nan," he said. "But in a while."

"Any time." She sent him a mischievous grin. "I'm completely at your disposal, sir."

Jay smiled, made no comment. Again they sank into introspection. Any stranger looking in might have taken them for old-marrieds, taking a breather at the end of the day, savoring the intimate bond between themselves, waiting for bedtime to roll around.

A small tremor rippled through Nan. "That's pretty," she said. "That Sinatra. The way he sings some songs, I could just bawl."

"Yeah, he gets me shook sometimes too."

And then, perhaps thinking things were getting overly sentimental, Nan shattered the mood with a few, well chosen words: "You want to see the menu before we go in, or do you dig things pretty straight?"

Jay reined in his temper. "No, dear," he said calmly. "Just regular. American fried, steak, coffee. I've had enough...." Too late, he caught himself.

She smirked wisely, looked at him almost pityingly. "I know what you mean. Those two creeps finally got to you, huh?"

Jay was instantly on guard. "What do you know about Tenli and Vera?"

"Oh, things...." A saucy taunt flared in her eyes. "What sort of things?"

"Let's not talk about them. Why spoil this?" The insouciance fled, and a quick-scuttling shadow of fear passed over her face. "I know things I wish I didn't, let's let it go at that, shall we?"

"No, Nan, let's not drop it. The way you looked at me just then-like I was scum-you know lots more than you're telling."

"If you saw that in my expression, I'm sorry. It certainly wasn't intended."

"You were at their party too, you went along with all their rotten stunts."

Her gaze hardened. "That's right. Jay. Only there's this one big difference: I was there because it was my job: I was getting paid for being there; I wasn't there of my own free will. I wasn't wallowing in it like some of the people there."

The shaft hit home, and Jay fell silent. There were no words to dilute the truth of what she'd just said.

"You found out what they are, didn't you? The hard way, from the looks of you. Now what are you going to do about it?"

"Do? I don't know as I have to do anything."

She smiled condescendingly. "Don't act superior with me, Jay. I know those cookies from A to Z, I know how this'll turn out if you don't break off. Leave them be. Before they ruin your life."

"And what about you?" Jay challenged, catching a sniff of something. "Why don't you break with them?"

"I told you, they pay me. That's how I make my living."

"There's more to it than that. If they go so much against your grain you'd pass up their filthy money. Isn't that right?"

It was like a heavy steel door was rolled down behind Nan's eyes, and once more she'd regained her aloof remoteness. "Are you about ready to go in, Jay? On second thought I just remembered another appointment I have."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't want it to turn out like this. I'm sorry I started it."

She forgave him instantly, her eyes warm again.

"It's all right, Jay. It was my fault-I brought it up."

She came close, touched his cheek, looked into his eyes earnestly. "C'mon, baby.. Let's go into the bedroom. I got ways of patching things up. Please? I thought I might get you the other night. I was hoping anyway. And tonight there's nobody to keep us away from it, is there?"

She rose, looked about the room. Then she teetered on her high heels toward the closed bedroom door. "This way, honey?"

He nodded slowly, sat looking at the floor.

"You come in soon, huh, Jay? I'll be ready."

It seemed tremendously satisfying to Jay to turn out all the lights in the apartment, to come into the dark bedroom, to undress in blackness, conscious of the fact that Nan was in bed, already naked, waiting for him. After the circus productions Tenli and Vera had made of things, the mantling gloom seemed to give dignity, Tightness-humanity even-to the impending love act.

And compared to the Cardwells this puzzling woman, call-girl though she was, was a vestal virgin.

Jay finished undressing, came to the bed. Sliding beneath the sheets with Nan, letting his hands slide languorously over her flanks, up her smooth belly to her breasts, he felt urgency gather in his brain and relay to all parts of his body. This would be clean and normal and good. This would be the first step on the road to rebirth.

Nan would be the fire in which he would cleanse and purify himself. For after the depravities so recently endured, she, this act of love constituted normality.

"No," she whispered as he tried to kiss her breasts, "don't, Jay. Just the rest. I don't need that. I'll make it good for you, don't worry." And her hands came up, stroked him, delicately urged him into position.

Again Jay sensed relief. It would be good to just begin, to concentrate all his emotions in the simple act itself, to not spread himself thin in the other overtures. Not as a matter of course, he mused, but for tonight it seemed significantly appropriate.

She sighed softly, her pleasure sincere, her body shifting to make his union the sweeter. Slowly and fluidly her legs slid against his flanks, then drifted down, twined with his, her heels blocking themselves inside his knees. Her hands swept, like fluttery feathers, along his back, seeking the best possible point of leverage.

Jay'd had play-for-pay females before; he was used to their fake thrashings and moanings and entreaties. Thus he recognized the actuality of Nan's enjoyment, he interpreted her heavy-breathing silence, her clinging reciprocation of his thrust and slide as the real thing. She had no need of words and groans; her body, the quickening response that fled through it was a sublime and total declaration of the rapture that was rocking her.

Her liquid, suffocating envelopment was miraculous, and Jay moaned thickly at the sweet pain he sensed as she trapped and caressed him, as she brought her hips up from the bed to meet his in blissful, cushioned impact.

At the last his blood turned to hot soup, it blistered all related nerve ends, blacked out all distracting physical functions. And he turned into a precise, finely tooled machine, dedicated and unstinting in the work at hand. A love machine, a rapidly pistoning robot, responding to only one stimulus.

That of Nan's body. Which supercharged, cylindered, redoubled his efficiency, turned him into a giant, a world-striding superman. And Jay had never felt so supreme, so awesomely potent.

When it seemed that both torrid, clinging bodies would melt, would fuse from the fiery ecstasy of this lovemaking, Nan could withhold her joy no longer. And she began to emit soft, breathy whines. Whines which became full-fl-edged screams.

Screams with triggered similar response in Jay. And lost in the delirium of his own deliverance, he very graphically encouraged Nan to still another ripping climax.

Then both bodies died that delectable death and went still.

"But why do you want to know?" Nan's sleepy voice cut the darkness. "It's the oldest story in the world. Especially in Hollywood. I bore even myself telling it."

"I don't know why," Jay said. "I just want to know. It's so inconceivable that you'd be ... what you are. You seem like such an entirely different kind of woman."

"There's no such thing, Jay. All women have to eat, have to have a place to stay, to have some sort of security, even if they have to ... sell their bodies ... to get it."

"Was it the movies?"

"Yes, Jay, it was. Isn't it always, out here? T had a job as a lab technician in a small Wisconsin town.

Everybody said I was pretty enough to be in the movies." Her voice dropped. "Once upon a time I was."

"You still are."

"Don't con me, dear. Anyway, I came out, discovered that people eat and sleep and love and die out in California just like any place else. I batted my head against a stone wall for about a year, managing in all that time to get one bit part. And that was all. Then one day you wake up, and you really see the world for the first time. In living color. You realize you're going absolutely nowhere.

"It's a terrifying thing. I kinda went to pieces when it happened. And when I finally came out of it I found myself taking the easiest way out." She paused. "And I'm still taking the easiest way out."

"And what about the future?"

"Someday I'll find some dope dumb enough to marry me. I'll just vegetate what's left of my life away."

"Don't you get scared once in a while, wonder what's the point of the whole thing?" Jay was filled with deep, abiding sympathy for the lost girl.

"Scared? I'm scared every minute of my life. That's why I get so moody so easy." Abruptly she pulled away, sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm going."

"Don't, Nan," he said. "Stay the night. I'll pay you for...."

"Shut up, will you? You can't pay me for...." She didn't finish. "I'd better scram before I go right out the top of my head."

He heard her moving in the darkness, gathering her clothes. Then he heard the snick of the door as she went into the bathroom. A second later he saw a crack of light at the bottom of the door.

He was in his robe, waiting in the living room when Nan emerged, her face freshly made up, her clothing once more impeccable. She took the plain envelope from the coffee table, put it into her purse.

Forcing a smile, she said, "It's been nice, Jay. You're a sweet, considerate man."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

She wouldn't meet his gaze. "It's best that I do .. She turned at the door. "Remember what I said about Vera and Tenli. Keep your distance. They're not nice."

"I know they're not nice," he smiled flippantly, angry at what he considered persistent meddling. "Maybe that's their attraction. They're damned nasty if you want the truth. But they're sure's hell not as dangerous as you're trying to make out."

Nan stiffened, bit her lower lip. "Please, Jay, you don't know...."

"How about an encore sometime, Nan? I enjoyed that thing we just had. Very much."

She was curt. "No, Jay-that was it. I don't want your business."

"What?" he bristled. "What're you trying to pull? I wasn't psycho on you, was I?"

"Let your nympho girl friends take care of you, Jay. That's what you seem to enjoy most. Or if you have to branch out, I've got some other numbers. But not me. I won't touch you so long as you're wound up with those two Cardwell vultures."

Jay's jaw went tense, a livid streak cutting his cheek. What 'n hell was this? he thought. A damn call-girl, a two-bit tramp setting up ultimatums now? What kind of nutcake was this? "Listen here, you. I don't understand what you're trying to pull, but...."

She sent back a pitying smile. "No, Jay," she interrupted, her voice suddenly wavery, "you wouldn't understand. If I explained all night, you still wouldn't understand."

"Wait, Nan."

"I'm going, Jay. I don't want to hear any more." She looked back a last time. "One more thing, dear.. "Yes?"

"Don't call me, I'll call you."

It was supreme insult. With a harsh, forced laugh she was gone. "Witch!" Jay roared. "Whore witch!"

Then he flung himself savagely into a chair, tried to figure out the strange turnabout. What had caused Nan to turn on him? And more important, why all the commotion about the Cardwell girls? Was she trying to tell him something he couldn't even begin to suspicion?

He couldn't figure it. He couldn't figure it at all.

CHAPTER NINE

The liquor was something special, a weird distillation that Vera had forced on all of them that night, insisting that, "It'll pop you right out of your skull." It was a murky fluid, served in small aperitif glasses, bitter as gall. And yet, after it was down, the taste modified, became tartly sweet. Its effect was completely different from anything Jay Starr had ever experienced in all his years of drinking everything from absinthe and tequila to the finest of champagnes.

Strange, wavering sheets of color seemed to form before his eyes, shimmered and folded and danced. He was forced to compare the mental illusion to the fierce atmospheric fantasies he'd witnessed when on army duty in Alaska. When he'd gawked at the "Northern Lights"-aurora borealis-until he'd all but magnetized his tonsils.

But this was better, he admitted muzzily, for it was all his now, a private showing going on inside his brain. Besides the wavering interplay of lights, during which the faces and figures of the others in the room blurred and ran into indistinguishable blobs, there were other side effects. It seemed his nervous system was completely short-circuited, that he couldn't think or remember or interpret anything at all. He was completely out of it for long periods at a time.

And at those times, he dreamed the most magnificent of dreams. He fled the dull, drab confines of this world entirely.

The liquor was nameless, it was specially imported from Turkey. Wasn't that what Vera had said? Or was it Greece? He shook his head slowly, smiled in bleary bemusement. He couldn't remember; he just couldn't remember.

There were lots of things he couldn't remember.

Things like how, after all his grandiloquent resolve, he'd once more come to be at the Cardwell house. Or even how long, admitting that backsliding, he'd been here. Had it been mere hours? Or was it, in reality, days?

Another puzzling anachronism. After the warnings Nan had given him-when ... when had he seen her last?-why was she here, why was she paying such fawning court to her libertine hostess?

And he shook his cottony head more vigorously, trying to clear his thoughts. Almost giggled with feminine glee at the delightful, rubbery feeling of his neck. It felt a yard long.

Briefly the technicolored haze lifted from his eyes, and he was able to focus his vision once more. He was surprised to find the room dark, to find others, besides Nan and Vera and Tenli, in the room with him. Pino Coya and Rex Quinel-wasn't that who it was? He strained to crack the fluttering darkness. And decided at last. Yes, Pino and Rex.

Gradually the fog lifted, and his thoughts cleared. But he knew the lucidity was only momentary; he must think fast before the fungus-like debility returned. The jog comes in on little cat's feet, he maundered.

He became conscious of the screen taking prominent place in the living room, of the vile, sickening jumpings and wrigglings painted on its silvered surface. And he recognized Tenli, in her bedroom with a stranger. But was it Tenli? Why was she dressed in such a childish getup? She looked like a little girl. And who was the man she was letting undress her?

Then a few minutes later, as the man fell upon .Tenli's nude body, began kissing her quaking belly, let his head snuggle at her thighs-Vera's grating voice cut through his wooden daze. "That's the great Walter Cavendish," she gloated. "You know, Clairmont Studios? Oh, Lord, you should have heard him scream when we showed him this film. He was like a maniac. I swear, if Pino here hadn't been with us, he'd have killed the both of us. Pino comes in handy, times like that."

Jay saw Vera's hand come out, clench Pino in a very vulnerable place. "Other times, too, toro mio," she simpered. "You're a regular little collection boy, arent you? You collect all kinds of things, don't you? Besides money, I mean...."

"Mujera," he groaned thickly, completely drunk, his eyes glazed with lust. "Que mujera." And he answered her vulgar clutchings with matching clutchings of his own, driving his hand beneath her rumpled skirt. An attention she happily abetted, letting her legs fall open.

"Anyway," she continued, "old Walter saw the light and he calmed down. What with Pino waving that shiv of his around. We got a down payment only yesterday aft."

Jay shook his head again, focused his eyes on the screen. Where Cavendish was deserting his perverted beachhead, was going north. And now, at Tenli's perfectly pantomimed urgings, he was coming over her, locking his body with hers, holding a screaming, fighting imitation of what he'd been gulled into thinking was a virgin. Until at last there was no more fight. Just two lurching, thrusting, twining bodies.

And afterward, not yet sated, he returned to previous pleasures. "He couldn't get enough of it," Tenli hissed beside him now, shifting her body, taking Jay's hand, guiding it inside her brassiere. It found a stone-hard nipple waiting for it. "He was like a kid with a new toy. He wanted to do it all night."

Jay's fingers felt like they belonged to somebody else; he got absolutely no charge out of fondling Tenli. In sadistic irritation, he pinched the nipple. To which Tenli writhed, sucked in a pained sigh. "Oooh, baby, Hurt me. Hurt Tenli some more. Oh, lover!"

He did as he was told, beyond feeling. No shame, no sense of degeneracy-it was all so much motion. His eyes went on burning holes in the screen.

While his mind snarled and twisted, trying to make some sense from all this. Where was the impact? he raged. When you finally find out what your lustful playmates' game really is, when you realize they're not only libertines and animals, but blackmailers as well? Why wasn't he surprised, shocked, sickened?

It was almost as' if, somewhere in his subconscious, in his worldly suspicion of people and life, he'd known it all the time. This was what Nan had been trying to tell him, an even deeper significance behind her warnings, an askance, a pleading for help. For in some ugly way, she too was involved in this slimy mess. Perhaps she, too, was among the victimized, was under Vera's ghoulish spell.

But there was no shock, none whatsoever. They were blackmailers, scum and parasites of the lowest sort. Yet he felt no hatred, no surprise, no revulsion. It was as though he'd become immune to degradation and betrayal. So they were extortionists. What else is new?

It was the devilish drink. It had robbed him of all normal mentality, it had drugged the more ordinary emotions, it had released that depraved tiger that lurks deep, deep within all humans.

A wave of lassitude swept over him, and he wanted to giggle. Tenli heard his snufflings, brought her own glass to his lips. "Here, baby," she sighed. "Drink some more. It makes all. the pretty pictures come back."

He sipped greedily, wanting to shut out even these fragile slivers of conscience. Moments later the colors began to swirl and tangle in his brain like sulphurous smoke. The lights became brighter, brighter. He surrendered himself completely to the gorgeous, lazy trance. Lost touch with the whole world, entered a totally new dimension of experience.

Jay emerged from the dreamy half-world minutes, hours, days-who could tell?-later, found that Tenli had pulled her blouse from her patinos, had stripped off her brassiere. He found himself smothering himself at her breasts, she sprawled indolently on the couch, her knees clenching his waist. He was surprised to find the movies were still going on, but when he tried to look at them, Tenli held his head, moaned rapturously, begged him to continue his delicious attentions.

How long had be been gone this time? He fought to concentrate. What had happened? He tried to look around again, but Tenli's hands still trapped his intolerably heavy head.

Until now, suddenly, she squealed, released him. "Look, baby," she urged, "look at this. It's priceless. Look I"

Somehow Jay managed to lift his head, to turn to face the glaring screen. Where he saw Vera this time, completely naked, lying on her bed, docilely permitting a gorgeous brunette woman-whom Jay, drugged though he was, immediately recognized as one of Hollywood's top motion picture stars-to play all her long-suppressed Lesbian tricks on her body.

Twinges of astonishment pricked his alcohol-pickled mind. He never would have dreamed-not Vicki Chalmers No, not her She couldn't do such things, she couldn't so evilly wallow, wallow-

He groped in the darkness for his glass. Tenli stopped him. "No, baby," she whispered. Not so fast. Lay off That stuff'll kill you. You'll pass out before things even get going good." She wrestled him back to the couch, held him beside her. Together they watched the picture to its ugly conclusion, Tenli, at the end, unable to keep her hands off Jay, exploring his body unashamedly.

His eyes wandered. Further shadowy surprise, his eyes focussing and blurring, focussing and blurring, hit him as he saw that Vera was completely naked now, that she was sitting in Pino Coya's lap, watching the movie with feverish eyes. While Pino's interest was elsewhere. As he nipped and kissed the turgid nipples of her breasts, getting more cruel with each passing moment.

He saw Nan Keller, down to her bra and panties, her eyes drugged and empty, lying on the floor in the middle of the room. Letting Rex Quinel stroke and kiss her still-stockinged legs. While a thick, almost incomprehensible stream of curses spilled from her lips, as she scored Quinel for the degenerate filth he was. Which vituperation only made his fetish subservience all the more delightful to him.

Even as woozy as he was, Jay could sense that the party was getting rough, that before they were through it would turn into a sadist's saturnalia. The liquor, its aphrodisiac potency fading, was turning everyone mean. He felt none of the usual good will and empty-headed joy he usually knew from alcohol This vile drink was exerting a depressing, melancholy mood, revealing the cruel, ruthless side of everyone's nature.

As evidenced by the way Nan spewed obscenities at Rex, by the way she twisted his hair, dug her nails into his shoulder, her face contorted in an ugly, insane grimace. Jay's flesh crawled to see the exposure. Could this be the same Nan Keller who'd made such spiritually transfiguring, tender love to him not so many-how many-nights ago?

What kind of hellish potion is this? he thought, that it turns us to snarling, snapping animals? And in effort to shut out the thoughts, greedy for the mindless trance of soothing, dreamy color, he reached for his glass, took another deep sip. And waited for the fantasy to cut in.

But it did not happen quite the same. For the colors were different now. They were sere, dark and gloomy. There was no fire that could light them up again. And Jay sensed the most overpowering morbidity, an unmanageable irritation and impatience. He wanted desperately to recreate that other dimension, to walk in that illusory, pretty world again. But he could not. The liquor had lost its transporting effect.

And yet he couldn't stop drinking it. One swallow compelled another. It was addictive beyond his power to comprehend. How could a liquor so bitter, so unpalatable-?

He could barely feel the ends of his fingertips.

From a far distance he heard Tenli's voice begging and shrill: "Please, darling, don't drink any more. I don't want you to pass out. I want...."

He didn't hear the rest. For now his attention was caught by the weird thing that was happening on the floor The camera was dark and silent now, the screen pushed out of the way. Only several Capri lights, saffron, red, violet, scattered strategically about the room, some on the floor beside Nan's naked body, still burned, gave the room an evil, eerie darkness, transplanting the pleasure-bent sextet to the stygian depths of hell.

Pino Coya and Vera were holding Nan down, one on each side, were spread-eagling her limbs. An act Nan permitted with dumb submissiveness. And as Jay's dulled eyes watched, he saw Rex Quinel stand over her, slowly and indifferently undress himself. Naked, he came down to Nan, began to rub her voluptuous, shadow-flickered body with a large panel of fur. Over and over her body he went, rubbing with itchy, stimulating touch. To her face, her arms, her breasts, her belly, her thighs, her legs and ankles. Up and down, over and over again, even instructing her captors to turn her so he could at-tent her back and buttocks.

Jay was mesmerized, was unable to move. Pangs of conscience directed that he should go to Nan, help her. But he was willless, he couldn't move. Also, since Nan was so obviously enjoying the strange ministrations, she would resent his interference. So he sat, watched. While Tenli was, garment by garment, disrobing him. While Rex now discarded the fur, came to Nan with a plumed, silky feather.

It took all Vera and Pino's strength to hold Nan now. She writhed, arched her back to escape the tickling, maddening torture. As Rex let the feather whisper over her breasts, over her belly and thighs, lingeringly touching her everywhere, getting the greatest charge out of hearing her scream and curse, out of seeing her body twist into knots in effort to avoid the feather's hairy, silky-smooth kiss.

"Oh, stop," she shrieked. "Please, no more. I can't stand any more. Oh, Vera, make him stop. Don't let that louse do it any more...."

"Enjoy yourself, honey," Vera cackled. "What do you think I'm paying you for? You'll never have it like this again. Let Rexie play. He's just getting started. He's got lots of cute ideas. Enjoy it, whore...."

Jay tried to sit up, he tried to go to Nan. But he was too weak. Besides Tenli held him back, fought off his last undergarment. Now they were both naked and she was driving her body into his with pagan impatience. But somehow he managed to get some more of the rotten-tasting liquor. And the effect was almost instantaneous. Again he was flooded with callous indifference. He leaned forward, the better to see what Rex was doing.

Tiredly, convulsively the helpless body spasmed and twisted. But Nan had little strength left any more. She resigned herself to the torture, even forgot to rail at Rex-which took some of the joy out of it for him. As he abandoned his feather, began to tickle that outraged body with his lips and tongue.

It seemed every breath in the room was stilled, suspended, as the spectators watched Rex go over the ivory, trembling body, each vicariously enjoying the depraved homage Rex paid Nan in their individual way, the room suddenly so quiet that his humming, liquid lappings and kissings were clearly audible.

At least until Nan began to scream again, to try to close herself in a vain effort to eject this torturing, twisted presence.

But Vera and Pino were cruelly efficient. They held her immobile. Until Nan's screams turned to moans, until Rex Quinel's sick mutterings announced that he had achieved the desired result. It was quite obvious he was a past master in this ugly variation.

Tenli was breathing in staccato gasps, her hands gripping Jay, her teeth nipping his shoulder. "Oh, oh, ohhh...." she sighed. "If he'd do that to me . .

"He will," Jay laughed. "Just ask him."

"I will." Her teeth were suddenly more punishing.

But if Nan thought she'd won pardon-or even reprieve-by this extorted, involuntary surrender, she was sadly mistaken. For now, in the gloom, Rex was advancing on her again. With an object he held closer to his body, out of the light. "No!" she screamed as he knelt at her legs, as he unwrapped its velvet bindings. "Please, not that! You'll kill me!"

Vera laughed coarsely, held her tighter. "Go ahead, Rex. She can take it. Use your pretty toy."

Jay couldn't see in the gloom, but he knew what was going to happen now. He'd heard of such primitive devices, he'd heard of the rites in which they were employed. And now he knew he had to intervene, he had to help Nan-Pushing Tenli away, he struggled up, lurched toward the insane tableaux. But he was too late. For two steps from the davenport he collapsed, dropped to his knees, rolled onto his face.

Among his last recollections were Nan's continuing screams, the patter of Tenli's bare feet as she scurried past him. He heard Tenli's voice: "Let me see, damn you! I wanna see all of it." Then Nan's terrorized shrieks: "Don't put that ... Don't! No!" Through his half conscious swoon Jay heard her screaming without stop, he identified the guttural chuckles, the evil encouragements. Then, at the end, nothing.

He felt pressure at his eyes, like red-hot pincers were pulling them right out of his head. Then he awoke, to find himself on his back on the floor, staring ceiling-ward. In a room where all the lights were now on, were spearing his eyes.

He focused his vision, found Tenli helping him to his feet. "Here," she said, offering him more of the wormwood drink, beyond responsibility herself, "take a little of this, it'll make you feel better."

As he sipped he remembered where he was, and glanced in mindless torpor about the room.

Even when he heard Nan's outcries, even when he saw Pino and Rex half-carrying her toward the field-stone fireplace, when he saw them bind Nan's hands, tie them in the high ring imbedded into the mortar seams, stretching her body so that only her toes touched, it did not really register.

"No, I'm begging you," Nan called, the arrogance completely gone now, terrorized to the brink of sanity. I'll die, you'll kill me, I know you will...."

"You won't die," Vera spat. "Not a tough old pro like you. You thrive under stuff like this. I'm paying you, remember?"

"Not for this," Nan groaned, falling limply, the weight of her body causing the ropes to cut into her wrists. "Oh, please, don't make me do this...."

"Shut up I" Vera rasped. "I don't have to pay you, you know. You put up with it, understand. With what I t on you...." Her eyes blazed and she went back to e coffee table, where the coiled black whip lay. Picking up, she advanced on the hanging, screaming victim. Jay felt nothing. No fear, no remorse, no pity-nothing. The liquor had seen to that. He knew only clinical detachment and interest. He leaned forward again to better take in this final, insane scene.

As Vera took measure of the whip, extending it on the carpet, stepped back to get leverage. Completely ignored Nan's babbled pleas.

Jay looked up suddenly, wondering what the hissing sound was, and saw the giant mirror sliding away. He saw the leering Quinel busily fitting a fresh magazine into the expensive camera. And for the first time Jay was apprised of what an extensive photo studio the house contained. Simultaneously, as the camera began to whir, he realized why the lights were ablaze: another souvenir for Vera's already copious collection of aberration.

But starring Vera.

His face was impassive as the whip curled about the lovely, white body, as it left a bright red welt. Nan's groaning, explosive outcry touched nothing in him. He might as well have been made of stone. A second welt formed on the pristine back, made a curving, abstract pattern. Another shriek erupted from Nan's lungs.

Vera worked deliberately and slowly, placing each slash perfectly, until now the body looked like a hundred red snakes had been turned loose upon it, like they were literally crawling and twisting around it.

Blessedly, Nan passed out.

Finally Vera was tired. She was satisfied. She turned, gave the whip to Tenli.

When Tenli had been sated, she presented it to the slathering Quinel.

Then Pino Coya.

And finally, Vera walked toward Jay, handed him the heavy leather stock. For a moment he hesitated, shied from the offering. Vera made motion like she would slash him, and he quailed. Then in fearful trance, his eyes blank, he took the whip, rose and walked toward the blood-streaked, sagging body.

Then, with a depraved impersonality, index of how far gone Jay Starr was, testament to his final breakdown, he raised the whip, began to flay and cut some more at the already tattered body.

A terrible, unfathomable rage grew in his brain, blotted out everything else. All at once it seemed he was taking out all his frustrations on the world, getting even for every rotten, stinking trick anyone had ever played on him. Revenge, he must wrest revenge from this body.

And still the whip rose and twisted, cut and curled. Until Nan's back was a sheet of blood.

Until Jay finally came to, realized what gruesome, crazed thing he was doing. And then, feeling as though a million maggots were suddenly crawling inside his belly, were climbing into his throat, an intolerable weight crushing him, squeezing the breath from his lungs, he took two halting steps backward, dropped the lash.

Where he fell to the floor in an unconscious heap.

"Is she coming around?" Tenli murmured, a feral brightness in her eyes. "Will she be all right?" Vera looked up, stopped her labors with the cold compresses, with the coagulants and salves. "Yeah," she smiled, "she'll be fine. Just give her a few minutes. She'll be as good as new. A tough old pro like her...."

"God," Coy said, "I thought your friend was gonna kill her for sure."

"You got it, didn't you, Rex?" Vera said. "Especially Jay? We've got him over a barrel now. A nice, big barrel."

"Will she be all right?" Tenli persisted. "Vera, you promised...."

"I know what I promised. And this tramp'll deliver, make no mistake. There, she's coming around now."

Weak as she was, her body feeling like it was on fire, Nan still fought as they dragged her toward the long davenport Where Tenli was lying. Waiting. A wild, maniac expectancy in her eyes.

But they forced her just the same, the men pushing her to her knees, holding her to her vile task giving her no quarter. Until the hysterical, abused woman struck out in the only way left her. She bit Tenli.

Tenli screamed, whirled away from the animalized Nan, jammed her heel in her face at the same time, slammed her back onto the floor.

Caught up in a vindictive, psychotic frenzy, she threw herself at Nan, began to claw and pummel that screaming face. Then, and even more transporting fury gripping her, she wanted an even greater punishment. Grabbing one of the nylon stockings littering the floor, she rapidly wound it about Nan's throat, began to twist it.

"I'll teach you, you slut!" she shrieked. "I'll teach you to hurt Tenli."

While Vera, Rex and Pino, too drugged to really interpret what was happening, stood by watching, smug, addled smiles painted on their faces.

Until Nan was choking, she wasn't fighting any more. Her eyes bulged in grotesque convexity, her tongue seemed to swell and lodge in her mouth, her face turned dark. The body sagged, life deserting it with a small sigh.

Satisfied at last, the stupefied Tenli dropped the brutalized head, crawled painfully away from Nan. "I need something to drink," she gritted. "That made me thirsty."

Laughingly Coya brought her glass. "I c'n stand s'more of that stuff too," he giggled, completely stoned now. "We're goin' upstairs, ain't we?" he said. "We're gonna finish things off, huh?" He fixed Vera and Tenli with a dark look. "You two ain't done anything to earn your keep yet tonight."

Vera took the bottle, poured herself more of the brackish liquid. "You bet, Pino," she seethed. "We'll show you some twists you never thought of yet."

The time, had any of the four still-conscious degenerates bothered to check, was exactly one-thirty of a fast growing Friday morning.

But as dawn approached, felt its way through the thick, closed drapes of that devil parlor, it was obvious that none of the debauchers had gone upstairs. For sprawled about the room in grotesque poses, were six figures, some caught in carnal half-death, three males and three females.

One of the males stirred, looked about dazedly. Pino Coya, true Neanderthal, had recouped first, was up to the situation. Warily he rose, went to where Nan Keller's pale, cold body lay He needed no more than a cursory examination to know the truth.

"We gotta get out of here," he whispered to Quinel as he shook him awake. "That Keller kid's dead. Vera went too far this time We gotta make ourselves scarce, understand? Let's clear this dump, but fast."

Thus it was, perhaps ten minutes later, that there were only four sleeping figures left among the charnel house shambles they'd made of the luxurious room. Vera and Tenli Cardwell Jay Starr.

And one other. Who would never wake up again.

CHAPTER TEN

Perhaps a half hour later, as dawn became more persistent, Vera stirred. A shudder went through her chilled body, and she opened her eyes, stared downward from where she huddled on the davenport. The first thing she saw was Nan Keller's body, the stocking still twisted about her throat, the eyes staring a damning accusation. She started, then recoiled in horror.

And gradually everything came back to her, became clear. Very clear. Instantly, despite the agonizing clangor in her head, the bitter furriness in her mouth, she began a rapid-fire scheming. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked quickly from the dead body, to another almost as dead. To Jay Starr, who lay on his stomach, his arms pillowing his head, his breathing slow and even.

Then, as furtively as possible, she was up, padding about the room, not even taking time to cover herself, checking often to see if Jay still slept. A single glance told her that Rex and Pino had already sniffed the wind, had made themselves scarce. So far as she knew they were at that moment packing, flight prominent in their minds.

A ghost of a smile pressed her mouth. She'd know where to find those scum, how to deal with them when the time came.

But for now she must hurry.

Each step bringing misery of the most eviscerating kind, her head throbbing, her stomach constricting, she went to where Nan Keller lay, unwound the incriminating stocking from her throat. Throwing it aside, she struggled with the cold, rigid body, the clamminess of it threatening to turn her stomach, managed to lift it, carry it across the room.

Then, pausing for breath, moving on sheer nerve alone, hugging the body closer, she started up the stairs.

It was only when Nan was in one of the beds, her body somewhat straightened, between the sheets and covered with blankets, that she was satisfied.

Hurrying downstairs she saw the gaping hole in the wall where the mirror was still slid aside, the camera standing in mute readiness upon its tripod. Her ace in the hole, she thought. For should Coya and Quinel ever think they'd weasel out-

They were on that film, glorying in the sadistic whipping sequence also.

As quietly as possible she opened the camera, removed the large magazine of damningly exposed film. Taking the container, she stepped out of the secret cubbyhole, fled to another part of the house. When she returned, the magazine wasn't under her arm. It was in a secret depository stored among at least fifty reels of other such incriminating, already-processed film.

Now she went to a linen closet, brought down a blanket from a top shelf. Which cover she spread, let drift down over Jay's body with painstaking care. He should think they'd granted him this minor consideration before they'd gone up to bed themselves.

Next she went .about the room, picking up all the stray clothing. Balling it up, she once more navigated the stairs. When she came down this time she wore her nightgown and a robe. She carried Tenli's over her arm. A small smile twisted her mouth as she thought of how she'd mussed beds, apportioned clothing in the three rooms.

Jay Starr would have to believe her story now.

Stealthily she went to the place on the floor where Tenli was sprawled, began to carefully wake her. She must make no outcry, she must not rouse Jay. Not until Vera had had time to talk to Tenli, to detail her plan to her. Easy, baby, she thought, massaging Tenli's shoulders gently, hearing the soft, sleepy murmurings start in her throat, wake up easy.

It took Jay a long time to come fully awake, to understand what the two, haggard, hollow-eyed females were trying to tell him. But when he did regain his senses, fighting past the sickness swarming over him, when he did comprehend their singsong chant, he felt as though a huge hand had reached inside him, ripped his guts out, left him a hollow man. His heart constricted in cold, merciless dread, and he wanted to scream his disbelief.

"She's dead," Vera intoned again and again. "We're in big trouble. Nan's dead. You killed her, we all killed her."

While Jay repeated for the tenth time, "Nan dead? I don't understand. How could she be dead?"

"Think back," Vera shook him. "Do you remember what happened last night? Any of it?"

His face was a baffled grimace. Then as he reconstructed the bestial happenings that went under the name of party in Vera and Tenli's dictionary, his face collapsed, reflected a terrible self-loathing. "That stuff we had to drink...." he stammered, his stomach reeling, "it made us go out of our minds. It turned us into animals."

"You whipped her," Vera prompted. "Do you remember that? We couldn't get you to stop. You remember now, don't you? We all took a turn, but you were the worst of all. It was like you were insane. You whipped and whipped ... try to remember."

Jay's face paled, he felt his skin prickling. His finders clawed into his eyes. "Oh, God," he choked. "No i ... Dear God...."

"We tried to help her, we put stuff on her back," Tenli volunteered, "we gave her medicine, but ... Come upstairs and see if you don't believe us."

"Why didn't you call a doctor?" Jay said, "why didn't you take her to a hospital?"

"Be reasonable, Jay," Vera soothed. "With all those slashes all over her back? Where would that have left us? All of us? Should we all go to prison? I thought she'd be all right, I honestly thought she'd recover by morning. We took her up and put her to bed, she was resting easy. But when I looked in a little while ago, she was dead."

"We all helped," Tenli took up the dooming refrain, "but you were the one who killed her. We couldn't stop you."

As the full impact seeped through his dazed mind, as the significance and consequences swelled within his skull, Jay was thrown into a deranging confusion. He hated himself as he'd never hated anything or anyone before in his entire life.

"What...." he gasped finally, " ... what do we do now? What's going to happen to us?"

"Nothing." Vera said, helping Jay as he struggled to rise, as he fell into a nearby chair. "If we keep our heads on straight. Nan's got nobody in L. A. She lives by herself. Nobody knows where she went last night. If we can get rid of her body, nobody can ever trace her to us. We'll stick by you, Jay, if you'll stick by us. You can count on that We'll see you through, I swear "

"See me through?" he blurted stupidly. "You mean you aren't going to call the police, we aren't going to tell them what happened?"

"Call the police?" Vera's face whitened with rage. "Are you out of your mind? We'd all go to the gas chamber. Or to prison for the rest of our lives. Do you want that? Be reasonable, damn you!"

"But what we've done is rotten and filthy, it reeks to high heaven. We've got to...."

"We've got to keep our heads," Vera gritted. "We've got to think this through, find a way to get rid of the body. Tonight, we'll take her out of here ... We'll find a place to bury her. We'll burn her clothes, anything that might help identify her."

Jay fought his thoughts, tried to retain control of himself. But there was too much working against him. His sickness, the galling remorse and shame, the deathly fear. And above all, his remembrance of Nan, of her beauty, of her tragic aloneness. It seemed her whole life had been dedicated, pointed toward this tragic end. As if she'd expected nothing better from life than being kicked around.

But the bitterest thought of all was that she'd suffered life's most gruesome mauling at his hands. He'd stood by indifferently while she'd been mistreated, in the end even participating in her brutalization, wielding the final, crucifying blows.

Dear God, he raged, what have I become? What kind of a monster have I turned into?

His eyes blurred with tears. And for the first time since those drunken sprees just after Maria had betrayed him, he broke into wracking, uncontrollable sobs. Nan, he thought, did you know I was doing those things to you? Were you still conscious? Please, God, no. Don't let me live with that on my conscience. I'd rather be dead. I'd rather be lashed, cut to ribbons myself.

And now, finally, the intensity of his remorse and shame disrupting all normal processes, he staggered to his feet, stumbled toward the downstairs bathroom. Where he fell to his knees, hung over the bowl, voided his stomach, seemingly without stop. He no sooner finished than it started all over again.

At last he emerged from the bathroom, a shaken, gaunt man, seemingly having aged ten years overnight.

"It's not all your fault," Vera sought to comfort him in mawkish sympathy. "We all helped. You had too, much to drink, you...."

"Shut your filthy, sewer mouth!" he roared, wanting to suffer his bitter grief without interference. There were no excuses. If he could, for once in his life, be sincerely sorry for his mistakes, if he could know the realest meaning of remorse-Should he suffer any less than Nan had? "Leave me alone, understand! Don't ruin it with your empty, stupid yammering. Leave me atone!"

But Vera, well versed in emergencies-knowing how to handle hysterical, stricken men-could still cope. Patiently she took Jay's arm, only to have him shake her off. She took it again. "Come, Jay," she said, "come with me. I know you're upset. You need rest, we all need rest. It's happened, we're all sorry. But can't you see incriminating ourselves isn't going to help anything?"

She herded him toward the stairs. "Come upstairs, go to bed. Get hold of yourself. There'll be time later to think, to decide what we have to do."

Trembling like a leaf, deep in shock, the man, wrapped in only a blanket, let himself be led upstairs, let himself be put to bed in one of the guest rooms.

Where, alone at last, he stared at the ceiling, tried to obliterate the depraved pictures that played non-stop behind his eyes. He tried to crowd back the misery, to find some kind words for himself. But there were none. He was at fault; he had been the only supposedly sane, normal man present last night-it should have been his place to intervene, to stop the gory brutalities. But he had failed. He had betrayed himself-and Nan. He had defiled his very humanity.

He had been content to wallow, wallow-

Now Nan was dead. In one of these rooms, not more than fifty feet away, she lay in improvised shroud. Sacrifice to his own desire, victim of his willful weakness.

A weakness that still prevailed and motivated. For even now he was still thinking of his own worthless skin, he was trying to build a plan whereby he-and these other libertines-would escape scot-free.

And Nan's death, her very life, would have counted for absolutely nothing.

The wracking sobs erupted anew as he wondered how he'd come so far astray these past years, as he remembered how it had been with Nan at his apartment that night. How, at the last, she'd been, in her own pathetic way, trying to warn him, to save him from just such a nightmare as this. For if it hadn't been Nan who was now dead, wouldn't there, in time, have been some other victim? It was predestined. What with amoral, conscienceless swine like Vera and Tenli for playmates.

He turned his face into his pillow, let the gasping, torrid sobs wrench from his throat. He was exhausted and sick, all point disastrously removed from his life. He had rammed head on into reality, he could go on running no longer. He had reached that impasse he'd dreaded all his life, that time when he should have to face up to himself, find that he was in reality not a man-not a man at all. Only a cringing, sniveling weakling.

Finally he stopped, turned to face the ceiling again. His brain spun dangerously, and he dared sleep to try to take him. The sun was coming up now, and the light would keep him awake, it would keep alive the taunts from a lonely, defiled woman who would never see the sun rise again.

But even here Jay Starr was mistaken. For the monstrous night had taken its toll. Perhaps ten minutes later he dropped into a deep, phantom-haunted sleep.

It was decided that Nan should be spirited from the house that very night, Tenli and Vera-Jay unable to reconcile himself to looking on that ravaged face and body once more-taking care of the details, wrapping the remains m a dark, untraceable blanket, burning Nan's clothing and personal effects, planning their route to the mountains with pinpoint accuracy. At ten o'clock that night they came to his room, told him they were ready.

Jay went sick to the depths of his soul as he lifted the small bundle, carried it down. She had been so beautiful in life. And now-all stiff angles of arms and legs-unyielding and cold. So light, so light.

The Cardwell garage, connected to the house, was kept closed until the body, along with a shovel, was stored m the Cadillac's spacious trunk. Then and only then was the door opened, then did Vera slowly back the car out onto the street.

They would drive to Glendale where they would hit the Los Angeles Crest Highway heading toward La Canada. There they would climb into the San Gabriel Mountains. Somewhere in those switchback trails, Vera recalled from a Sunday afternoon drive, lay Arroyo Seco Canyon. There were myriad turn-offs in that area. They would take one, find a deserted spot, a spot few people ever visited. There they would bury Nan.

The trip, covering some thirty odd miles, went off without a hitch. Vera drove with deadly care, and they were in the mountains a scant hour later. They were tempted several times to try cut-offs at lower altitudes but each time Vera adamantly insisted they follow their original plan.

When the vaguely remembered cut-off was reached and she was positive there were no oncoming cars to see them lurch into the gullied road, she slowly edged the Caddy in, choosing the lane carefully, well aware of the dire consequences should they bog down.

Jay, moving like an automaton, glided from the car, and using a small flashlight, took the shovel, melted into the blackness. Panic slammed him momentarily as he saw the rocky terrain, despaired of finding a place to dig. But at last, in a copse of stunted trees, perhaps three hundred yards from the road, he found a patch of gravelly earth, and cautiously began to dig.

A half hour later, he was back at the car, he was lifting the stiff bundle from the trunk. His legs were wobbly, he was wringing wet, his chest was heaving like a bellows by the time he reached the four-foot-deep grave. Reluctantly lowered Nan's remains into it, wincing as a rain of sandy soil pelted the blanket.

Good-bye, Nan, he thought, fighting for control. He mustn't go to pieces now. Then he began to hastily throw the dirt over the body. It seemed sacrilege of the worst sort to tramp down the dirt over the grave. When he'd covered the new-turned earth with dead branches, he was ready to return to the car. Good-bye, Nan, he repeated. I'm sorry, truly sorry.

They were back in Bel Air by twelve-thirty.

"No," Vera was obdurate when Jay mentioned returning to his own place, "you stay here, where we can keep an eye on you. There's no telling when you might go off the deep end. You need somebody around until you can get hold of yourself. You'd better stay with us."

Jay was almost glad for the suggestion. It was true; being left alone at a time like this would have meant his downfall. He'd start drinking, and after that-who knew what he'd do? He certainly didn't.

He entered the house, went directly into the living room, marched to the bar. Where he took up a fifth of bonded Scotch. "I'm going up to bed," he announced.

"Not very sociable tonight, are you?" Vera sniffed.

While Tenli regarded him with a frankly insinuating smile. "Me too, Jay?" she strained for flippancy. "I'd help keep your feet warm. Maybe we could even...."

The rest of her shameful proposition went unfinished. She shrank before Jay's burning, contemptuous stare, the loathing in his eyes intense enough to melt glass.

He touched the bottle once in mocking salute, wheeled, started up the stairs. Leaving two fuming frustrated females behind him.

Jay Starr was only one third of the way through the bottle before he mercifully passed out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

What does a sensitive person-even a partially sensitive person like Jay Starr-do when he finds himself involved in something so messy as a murder? How does he dilute guilt, absolve himself of blame when the victim was someone with whom he'd been slightly involved? To kill a stranger is bad enough-but someone who had been kind to him, had allowed her life to so briefly intertwine with his?

It was a baffling, maddening consideration.

The waking-up process the next morning was an agonizing thing For not only did he have the prevalent nausea to contend with, the lingering soul and body weariness, he was still forced to go over the happenings of the past forty-eight hours, to relive them, to re-convince himself they had really transpired, that Nan was really dead. "

That he had dug her grave only last night, that he had buried her with robot-like efficiency and almost indifference.

Still shaky, he descended the stairs that morning, found the house still. Tenli and Vera were sleeping in. Grateful for the solitude, he went to the kitchen, made himself eggs, toast, bacon and coffee. Somehow he managed to force the food down, fought the prolonged queasiness, kept the breakfast on his stomach.

Afterward he went upstairs, stripped himself. Regarding the cadaverous, unshaven bum he saw in the full-length mirror, he was further sickened. Brusquely he turned, disappeared into the bathroom, lathered and scrubbed himself beneath the pounding shower, made a ritual of getting himself clean.

Emerging from the shower, he shaved, combed his hair, brushed his teeth with one of the cellophane-wrapped tooth brushes in the cabinet. He was surprised to find-as he wilted ar the thought of climbing into his sweaty underclothes, his rumpled shirt and business suit-that sometime during the night someone had deposited a fresh change of clothing on a bedside chair. Underwear, socks, a sport shirt and a pair of dark summer slacks.

Vera, he marveled. She doesn't miss a trick.

Now, refreshed, clean and dressed in crisp clothing, he felt a little more like a human being. Superficially, at any rate. For beneath that shiny surface there still existed a corrupt, rotting, unprincipled ghoul. A half-man in whose veins pus ran instead of blood.

Jay Starr spent the rest of that morning in his room, sitting in a chair. Staring into space. His mind spun more wildly with each moment, the self-accusation and loathing making a hopeless tangle of any resolution, any direction, he might have devised. Within an hour his face was haggard again, he felt as though he'd gone through ten punishing rounds with a professional boxer.

He was sleeping in his chair when Vera knocked at his door shortly after noon, called him to lunch.

"Well, you're looking one hundred per cent better," Vera greeted him as he entered the dining room, sat at the place laid for him. "I see you found the clothes. Never can tell when you're going to have unexpected company. How're you feeling today, honey?"

Her forced gaiety angered Jay. "Crummy," he snarled, and began to eat. He tasted nothing, but still crammed food into his mouth for the sheer novelty of having something to do. It helped to dispel thought.

"You'll be all right, dear," Tenli smiled, touching his hand lightly. "Just give it time. You'll be able to forget. It was an accident, a terrible accident. Everything's going to be all right. Just wait and see."

He jerked his hand away. "You're spoiling my lunch," he said venomously. "Shut your face, will you?"

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, the two women exchanging worried glances from time to time, Vera sending Tenli reassuring looks, warning her to keep still.

After lunch Jay went to the living room, found the playing cards. Sitting with his back to the room so he wouldn't have to look at the place on the carpet where Vera had unsuccessfully tried to clean up the bloodstains, he played solitaire, went on trying to puzzle his way out of this grisly trap.

Vera came down dressed for shopping, and moments later she was roaring the Caddy out of the driveway.

Leaving Jay and Tenli alone in the house.

Tenli watched television, her manicure kit before her, occupied with her nails. Jay fought to keep his mind on the cards. But it was utterly hopeless. Other things kept getting in his way.

He thought of bolting from the house, returning to his own place, taking his chances. Maybe he'd check in at his office tomorrow, go through the motions of involvement in work. Anything would be better than staying here, rotting, being reminded every minute of Nan and what he'd done to her. He'd go out of his mind if he couldn't quell this constant brooding. His brain felt like it was teeming with a thousand baby snakes.

It was then that Tenli, finished with her own manicure, bored, looking for diversion, approached him. "How about your nails, baby?" she said. "Want me to do them for you? They look like they could stand some attention."

For want of something better to do, Jay nodded, placed his hands on the folding table she'd brought with her. "That's a good boy," she purred, and immediately set to work with her files and brushes and oils.

But as the task neared completion it became obvious to Jay that she had more on her mind than the mere stop-gap of giving a manicure. She wanted things to go on from there. This became obvious as she drew his hands closer to herself, let them brush her taut, sharp breasts with increasing frequency. She was plainly in need.

"Babee...." she simpered finally, putting her equipment aside, "how about us going upstairs for a bit? Taking care of certain little things? It seemed a godawful crime to waste all this privacy."

"No," he said in thin-lipped finality.

"Please, honey," she coaxed. "I could use some of that gorgeous stuff you put out. It'd help me ... both of us ... forget. Please Jay. Just you and me...?"

"Stop it, you pig!" he rasped, leaning toward her threateningly. "Before I smash in your slutty face. Leave me alone. Go upstairs and do it to yourself. I'm sure you know how."

She stiffened and her face went livid. "You rotten scum," she shot. Then she stood, strode rapidly toward the stairs. Jay saw no more of her all afternoon.

New thoughts invaded his mind. As he recalled Pino Coya and Rex Quinel. They had been pushed into the background lately. He hadn't seen them or heard of them since he'd passed out that night. Were they getting out of this smelling like roses? Weren't they involved too?

The camera, he remembered, the impromptu studio they'd revealed to him that night. What about that? They took pictures of Nan's torture session. Were those films still in existence? At any rate it was worth checking into.

Immediately he was up, running his fingers along the wall just as he'd seen Rex Quinel do, trying to find the trigger that would activate the mirror mechanism. Then, perhaps four minutes later, his fingernail caught in the sliver of steel and he pulled it down. Instantly the mirror began to slide into the wall.

Seconds later he found the catch permitting entry into the room itself. And in leisurely fashion, sure he wouldn't be interrupted, he inspected the cleverly compacted viewing stand, he scrabbled through the equipment on the back shelf. As he expected, the camera was empty, the exposed magazine gone. But who had it? Vera or Pino Coya?

He took his time, went over the room with a fine-toothed comb. But there was no exposed film. Only fresh magazines, waiting to be put to Vera Cardwell's evil purpose. And then, in a bottom drawer, underneath a conglomeration of empty ten-by-twelve manila envelopes-

He found the whip, clean of blood now, oiled and coiled in deadly readiness. He felt a cold chill go through him. Shouldn't evidence as dangerous as this be destroyed? Or was Vera planning on using it again sometime?

He slid the drawer shut. And emerged from the stall, closed the door. Carefully noting the position of the steel pin, he re-engaged it and the mirror slid back into place.

For the next hour Jay stealthily roamed the downstairs, opening every drawer, every closet, looking behind every drape and picture, seeking a clue to where the vault must be concealed. For certainly there must be a vault where Vera kept her bombshell films. A vault which only she knew how to find.

His search was fruitless. And finally, finding nothing else of any value, he gave up, returned to the living room. Where, tired of the constant self condemnation, the buzzing thoughts in his brain, he sought to forget. Going to the bar, he began mixing a generous batch of martinis.

By the time Vera returned that afternoon at six, he was well on his way to forgetting everything.

A condition Vera and Tenli were careful not to disrupt, joining him in his drinking gleefully, seeing to it that the flow of drinks never ceased throughout the dinner hour as they chomped through the delicious, thick steaks Vera had brought home with her.

Their talk, as they ate, was reckless and gay, and Vera, emboldened by liquor, broached her plan for their continuing relationship to Jay. "You can stay here if you like, darling. Come in with us. We'd make a great team. With your contacts we could really clean up. You'd never have to work another day in your life, there's enough easy money in L. A. for all of us. How does that sound to you?"

"Great, great," the drunken man laughed, again beyond conscience, in actuality fighting to retain his hold on this alcoholic dream world where there was no pain, no remorse. "I like that. It sounds like a wonderful angle. I got Monica Ference on my list. She's about ready for a big fall. She'd be good for a blizzard of greenbacks."

"Now you're talking, Jay," Vera snickered. "It'll be just like old times."

Momentarily Jay forgot himself, revived the forbidden topic. "But what about Nan? Suppose somebody misses her? Suppose they come nosing around here, looking for her?"

"F'rget about Nan, will you? She's gone, nobody's gonna miss her. Why all this worry over a common tramp? The city's overrun with 'em. They come and go, hundreds of 'em disappear every year. The cops can't keep up with 'em. Just another chippie done in...."

For a second a dangerous light flashed deep in Jay's brain, an unreasoning anger threatened to well up. But a few quick swallows of his martini took care of that. He was back on happy street again, there was only the big boy, old Number One to think about. And why worry about some roundheels he couldn't even remember?

Vera kept treading the precarious tightrope, testing Jay to see if he was made of the touch, egocentric muscles she thought he was. "You know about Nan?" she giggled. "She ever tell you? Her dad was mayor of some hokey little Wisconsin town. She spilled it by mistake one night. I had some pictures of her and Bobby Hudson. You know, the rock-and-roller? So I killed two birds with one stone.

"I told her I'd spread prints all over her home town, really ruin her. The twerp didn't care about herself-it was her father she was looking out for. Those pictures would have torpedoed him, but good. She jumped in line and stayed in line."

She paused, sucked at her drink. "Can you imagine, a mayor's daughter? Talk about your perfect patsies. She was tailor-made."

Jay's conscience should have been jolted, it should have been outraged. But it was not. The gin had seen to that. Instead he laughed with Vera, hooted at her confirming narration of the hold they'd had on Nan.

Then dinner was over, and they were avidly hurrying upstairs, both Vera and Tenli fighting for his clothes as they went.

In the darkness he had to fight to keep awake, to tune in the throaty, drunken giggles that swept through the darkness. Who were these two wantons? He just couldn't think straight.

Then the two naked bodies were in bed with him, their hands were coursing over his legs and stomach. "Damn," he heard one gasp, "we gave him too much to drink. We've got a long row to hoe before he does either of us any good. You game?"

"Vera," the other said, "am I game?" She laughed. "You know me better than that. That's half the fun, or have you forgotten? Me first."

"No, me first I Get away or III...."

The fact that the two women were fighting over him suddenly seemed the funniest thing in the world to Jay. And as their hands, their lips began to play upon him, hoping to extort eroticism from him, he began to gasp great, choking, maniac laughs into the gloom. Until he was laughing so hard he could barely get his breath.

But the scathing diversion didn't bother the two women at all. They were too happily preoccupied to pay it any heed.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When Jay Stake awoke at mid-morning of the next day, he was once again in what had now seemingly become his room. Alone and naked beneath the hot, clinging sheets. From the looks of the bed he had been in the throes of delirium all night long.

The nausea and aching loginess were old friends now; it became chilling obvious to him that they would be his constant wake-up companions for the rest of whatever remained of his corrupt life.

Dully he shook his head, tried to remember what had happened last night. But he could not. His brain back-tracted as far as dinner. But after that he could recall nothing. And yet there was vague, heat-lightning and flashing deep in his subconscious. Something ugly and animal-

Only when he threw back the covers preparatory to making his morning dash to the bathroom, when he saw the bruises on his body, the teeth marks all over his chest, his legs, his arms, did he remember.

Then he really sprinted.

It was the last straw, he thought grimly as he fought his way back to the bed. He had hit rock bottom. He could fall no further into this libertine abyss. Charged with harrowing, bone-sucking guilt and shame he wondered what the point was, why he should even bother to go on living? Was it worth the effort?

If he no longer possessed any will of his own, if he'd become a dedicated sensualist like Vera and Tenli-

In a way they were even better than he was, they were noble in comparison. For their bestial crawlings were intermixed with their chosen careers as extortionists. What was his excuse? He was crawling just to be crawling.

Momentarily he tried to remember what sins he'd committed with Tenli and Vera last night, what he'd let them do to him, what he'd done in exchange. But it was utterly hopeless. He was groping in an eternal darkness.

And he rolled over in his bed, tried to find forgiveness in sleep.

When he awoke next he made no pretense of reclaiming himself. There was only one way to make another day limp out of his life. He rose, carelessly dressed, gingerly felt his way downstairs, made a bee-line for Vera's bar. With trembling fingers he poured two fingers of bourbon into a glass.

He gagged once or twice, was on the verge of losing the whiskey. But somehow he kept it down, fought back the miserable sickness that crowded up all at once. But then, a few minutes later, it was all right. Everything was all right. He'd make it through another day.

Taking the bottle and glass with him, he climbed back upstairs. With shaking hands he piled pillows upon the bed, he drew up a small table to place the bottle upon Then he fell back, began to drink with dogged determination.

At noon, when Vera looked in on him, he was once more asleep, an empty glass on the bed beside him, the bottle of bourbon overturned on the table, a dark, reeking splotch on the carpet where it had drained out.

Shaking her head slowly, a look of disgust in her eyes, she closed the door, went back to her own bedroom. Where Tenli was still sleeping. A strange excitement was reborn within her as she saw the naked body on her bed. And remembering last night, she was suddenly licked by a rebirth of passion.

Now, if Tenli would only cooperate-She began lightly stroking Tenli's nipples, watched them turn hard in reflexive answer to her gossamer caresses. She saw a lazy, half-smile form on Tenli's pretty lips.

Jay Starr came suddenly awake, jarred to consciousness by the wracking shudders that were seizing him. He'd been dreaming about Nan: he'd been flailing at her, cutting her white body to shreds with the black whip again, gloating at her hideous shrieks.

Or had it been Nan's shrieks alone that had pulled him from his nightmare? Weren't there other shrieks? Real shrieks that still hung on the air, that rang and echoed in the halls of this hellish house?

He pulled himself up, feeling partially sober, and strained his ears. Dizziness overcame him momentarily, but he persevered, forced the concentration. It was so-there were siren wails emanating from somewhere in the house. Muffled to be sure, but wails nevertheless.

He struggled up, steadied himself on his feet. There, he felt better now. He was almost half a man again. Then he carefully padded across his room, opened the door.

The screams were louder, unmistakable now.

Vera's voice, carrying proudly down the hall: "Oh, go, baby, go! That one was gorgeous. Again, sweet, again! We don't need Jay, we don't need anybody, just so long's we have each other. Please, dolly, please!"

Furtively Jay scurried from his room, approached the half-open door. Flattening himself against the wall in native cunning, he sidled toward the bedroom from which the commotion ensued. Then stared aghast, his stomach tumbling like a bingo cage, as he saw what was going on inside that hellhole.

He saw Vera with her arms and legs locked about her daughter, he saw the way her mouth was gaping, the way her eyes were wildly rolling in her head. While Tenli, her hips and buttocks swathed in a pink harness of the weirdest sort he'd ever seen, was couched between those legs, was thrusting her stomach to her mother's, was simulating the male role to perfection.

And Jay was stunned to paralyzed immobility, found his nails clawing the wall for support, his fingers pressing for tenuous hold. He had heard about such things. But never in his life had he dreamed they actually existed.

It seemed a huge hand was gripping his skull, squeezing, squeezing, until he was sure his brain must pop like a glutinous grape, shatter its bony cage, plop onto the floor. And he was sick to the death, his emotions disastrously on a rampage.

Scum, scum, he raged. Filthy, sewer scum. They don't deserve to live. They should be killed, murdered as brutally and foully as they'd murdered Nan. And his muddled thoughts took still another tack. Cesspool scum. Scum just like myself. None of us deserves to live. We're cinders in the eye of God. We must all die!

An eerie vacantness seemed to possess his face, almost altering his features, giving him a gawping, open-mouthed idiocy. They must die, this brain buzzed, all of them. Tenli and Vera. Jay too.

Then, as if the plan had been festering in that unhinged brain all these weeks, had only been waiting for the necessary catalyst, the madman-for it was no longer Jay Starr-stealthily crept past the door, headed toward the stairs. His passing went unnoticed, for the two perverts were much too busy.

He went directly toward the secret panel in the living room wall. His fingers scrabbled in the pinpointed area, found the steel sliver. Now the mirror was sliding aside Instantly he was tripping the entry panel, he was darting into the niche, groping in the drawer for the coiled whip.

Unwinding it as he ran, he started back up the stairs.

"Swine!" he roared as he burst into the room, the suddenness of his epithet, the shock of his interruption freezing both bodies in mid-motion. "Rotten swine!"

"Jay!" Vera screeched, being the first to see him, to see the floating black snake that hovered over their naked bodies. "What...?" Then her cries were aborted as the lash descended with a stinging, loud report, cut a gash in both bodies. Both of the women screamed in ragged cadence.

Instantly Tenli, the ugly contraption flopping on her body, impeding her mobility, rolled away from Vera, tried to cower behind the bed. But Jay brought the whip down again, wrapped it around her legs, paralyzed her with pain. "Oh, my God," Vera croaked, "please, no, Jay. Oh please ... Her words were lost in a jarring shriek as the whip whistled down, slashed into her breasts, carved a bloody line across them.

She fought to turn, to escape, but the whip slammed down with untiring swiftness, the pain piercing both of them to the marrow of their bones, turning them into helpless, writhing paralytics. They screamed without stop, their outcries drowning the torrent of obscenities and curses that erupted non-stop from Jay's lips as he called them every vile name under the sun.

Again the bloody snake rose, wound and sawed and sucked. Again and again. And it filled Jay with a mind-stunning exultancy as he saw the women flopping and lurching helplessly on the bed, as he saw their bodies turned to so much liced-up meat, as he saw the bedsheet go red with their blood.

"Oh, God have mercy...." Tenli wailed a last time.

Then she fainted, her body jammed up against the wall, the awful pink straps in sick disarray.

While Vera still stiffened and spun with each fresh stroke.

At last, drained of his awesome blood lust, Jay let the whip die in his hand. Almost as if surprised, he looked down at the blood-clogged braiding. A momentary lucidity struck him. And he remembered his vow that this must all end here; no more deranged pestilence must emanate from this devilish snakepit. They must all be punished, himself included.

"Those films," he gritted, advancing on Vera, grabbing her hair in his hand, twisting it ruthlessly. A deeper stab of joy slashed his bowels as he heard her animal whimperings. "Where are they? I want them, all of them. The ones with Nan and Coya and Rex ... with all of us on them. Do you undertand me?" He tore at her hair with each word for emphasis.

"It's gone," she babbled, half choking, half sobbing. "Pino took it. That same night, he took it."

He almost jerked her head off her shoulders. "You lie!" he raged. "You have it, I know you do. Tell me, get it for me, before I tear every hair out of your head I"

The pain intolerable, Vera capitulated, groveled at his feet. "Yes, yes," she gasped, "I'll get it for you. But don't hurt me any more."

"Up, tramp," he gritted. "Let's go. Where are those films?" And his hand still in her hair, forcing her to walk half bent over, he let her lead him downstairs.

"Please," she pleaded as they came into the book-lined library, stood before the shelves, "you have to let me stand. I can't reach it otherwise."

He partially unwound his hand from her hair, let her rise to full height. Allowed her to grope behind a certain book. Then she fell back, as one whole bank of shelves, wall and all, swung out.

Revealed was another bank of shelves, built into the house's superstructure, upon which a cache of well over fifty cannisters of motion picture film, hundreds of stacked manila envelopes, were stored.

"The film, Vera," he rasped. "Where is it?"

Docilely she advanced, handed him the requested film, unmistakably the one he wanted as it was still in its processing magazine.

She turned, a hopeful pleading on her face. "Is it all right now, Jay? You won't hurt me any more? What ... what are you going to do with it?" Now her eyes widened, her mouth gaped. "Jay! No!"

The magazine clattered on the floor as he brought up his fist, slammed Vera in the middle of her face with all his strength. Taken by surprise, she went down like a felled steer. Only to be lifted to her feet, to be punched again and again. Until her face was a bloody, indistinguishable smear. Until she was totally unconscious.

A lunatic smile on his lips, Jay dragged her from the room, took her to the living room, gaining grim satisfaction from the bloody trail her mangled body left upon the expensive carpeting. Cruelly, he dropped her at the room's center, kicked her to be sure she was still out.

Then he started upstairs. Moments later he returned, his hands tangled in Tenli's dark tresses, wrenching her body bump-bump-bump down the stairs. Again there was a bloody smear indicating their passage. He dropped the body headlong atop that of her mother.

The final act would now commerce.

It took many trips between the den and the living room before all the films, all the photographs were transferred. Also the damning magazine. This he carefully put to one side.

Now he opened the envelopes, scattered the glossy prints-for which thousands of dollars had been paid by blackmail victims-over the bloody, grotesquely twisted bodies. He took his time, unreeled reel after reel of film, scattering the snake-like celluloid over the bodies, arranging those still-wound reels in close proximity to them.

Perhaps a half hour later he was ready. The grotesque pyre-bonfire composed of two nude female bodies, thousands of feet of tangled film, rolls of film still on their reels, thousands of glossy prints of a semi-pornography, wooden chairs and tables of every-description-was at last laid.

As afterthought Jay brought two bottles of brandy from the bar, emptied them over the tangled, crazy quilt mess.

And finally, trailing out a long strand of film, using it as fuse, he lit it with a match. He stood back.

He watched the fire slither along the rug, smelled the odor of burning wool. Until the flame reached the concentration of alcohol, of highly volatile celluloid and paper.

There was a dull puff, a hundred-fold magnification of the brandy fired atop a Christmas plum pudding, and suddenly the room glared with light, the flames roared up, it became insufferably hot.

Jay endured the heat, the crackling, licking gob-blings of the fire, the sweetish smell of burning flesh, as long as he could. Then, taking the magazine, the film that would explain everything, that would incriminate Coya and Quinel as well as himself, he darted through the room, opening windows. There must be no chance that this fire would be brought under control. This whole house must go; it must be razed. Only by fire would the bubonic contagion be contained and destroyed. They must burn, both of them. Consigned to the inferno designated for libertines.

Then he stepped out the front door, the film beneath his arm, he primly and casually walked down the walk. Toward the crowd of rubbernecks which had already gathered.

He was tired, he thought, deadly tired, all will to go on living dead within him. It was finished. He had repaid Nan's death, had in some fashion redeemed himself. Now all that was left was his own death. And he was greedy for it. He couldn't bear to go on living with these depraved memories at large within his mind. He must die; he wanted to die.

He reached the walk near the curb, turned and watched the house explode inside, he watched the beautiful, purifying flames belch from the windows. This is what hell must be like, he mused, a small smile forming on his lips. The magazine tight under his arm, he folded has hands in front of him, settled back on his heels, watched the raging holocaust with preening satisfaction.

"Of all the nerve...." one of the bystanders exclaimed. "Look, he acts like he's proud of it or something."

The heat became more intense, and Jay's gaze blurred again. As he envisioned the snug sanctity of the gas chamber. The chair they would strap him into-a fitting end for all degenerate scum. Scum like himself. Through the glass he would see the warden signal to the executioner, he would see the button being pressed. The button would release the sodium cyanide pellets into the container of sulphuric acid nestled so cleverly beneath the death seat. The hydrogen cyanide would rise up in lethal vapor, would cut and shrivel his lungs. It would be such a quick, sweet way to go.

A fitting end. Exactly what scum like him deserved.

And Jay Starr was still standing there, that same idiot smile etched on his face as the roof of the Cardwell house caved in. As the two police officers approached him from both sides, took him into custody.

He went happily, without a murmur.

THE END
Orgy Script ....(102k)    by Tony Calvano





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