enovel Vicious Vixen Ron Woolfe [Future Story Codes]

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Vicious Vixen ....(82k)    by Ron Woolfe

She touched my cheek lightly with her perfumed fingers. "I want you more than dying for me, Dyke. I want you suffering agony for me. Yes, that's the way I want you-in agony to love me."

"Tell me why."

She trailed her fingers across my mouth to my other cheek. Then she laughed. "Because I feel so wild tonight! So absolutely reckless!"

"That's good. Suits the hell out of me. I been feeling reckless that way all night. So let's get reckless together, what say?"

I shoved up on my arm and kissed the tips of her breasts. Tenderly, reverently, because of their rare, proud arrogance. I trembled in a kind of delirious shock. Fanny giggled a quiet, sensual sound, and I felt her hands softly ruffling the hair line at the nape of my neck.

And that's when I went haywire and began fighting for those ridiculous brief panties while she laughingly held onto them after clutching them tightly on either side of her hips. She was driving me into a state of desperate frustration in my anxiety to possess all of her tempting, glorious body.

In the end I had to rip them to shreds and tear them angrily away. When I did that she relaxed, lying there on her back, still grinning up at me, her breasts rising and falling with the fury of our struggle.

I whispered hoarsely, "Now ... damn you!"

She reached up and touched my mouth.

"I'm yours, Dyke. My body is yours. My mouth and arms and my breasts and my hips and my legs are yours. All yours. Take what you wish of me ... "

I took plenty.... CHAPTER ONE

It was the day Hell started breaking loose.

I knocked on Sandy's door. I waited. Waited forever.

There was no answer. I turned the knob and went in. I didn't see her.

There was a dark blue bathrobe slung across the back of a chair. I grinned when I heard the shower going. I had a picture-Sandy in there taking a shower. Naked. Naked as a marble jaybird. I shook my hear.

Sure would like to see her like that. Naked. Yessir. It would scare the living daylights out of her if I went in there. Better not. Good idea though.

I sat on the chair with the robe. I sniffed it and it smelled good. Damned good, like sprinkled with Sandy's special brand of perfume. Never knew what kind she used. But I knew one thing. It did things to me, exciting things.

I stretched out my long legs and waited. I lit up a smoke. Felt mighty good today. Devilment filled me. I was going to have some fun with Miss Sandy. Too good an opportunity to pass up. Bet she'd be surprised. Yeah man. And how!

I looked around. She kept a neat room. Everything in order. Didn't seem like a hotel room. Sandy had given it that homey impression. Some babes are that way. Like birds, they can take anything and make a real nest out of it.

I kept hearing the shower. Oughta marry Sandy. She'd make a guy a hell of a swell wife. 'True blue', as they say-the kind who'll stick to a guy. Nice gal. Too good for a bastard like me. Oh well, I'm not the marrying kind anyway. Not me, not Dyke Donohoe. Hell no, not for me.

I got up and went to the window overlooking the ocean. The heat had been terrible out there on the lifeguard stand today. Whew! Hadn't thought I'd be able to stand it. Thought sure I'd have a sunstroke or something. The big orange and green umbrella had helped some. But not enough. Hah, most folks think a lifeguard has the easiest job in the world. What a laugh.

The water was slick and calm. It's always that way in real hot weather, the steaming time of year. The heat seems to hold it down, take the life out of the sea. But that's not exactly right. That's the time when the sudden raging squalls slip up on you before you notice it. One minute the water is calm and peaceful. The next it's a foaming white-capped slashing terror. It'd fool you if you didn't watch out. People had to be careful, especially the folks who went out in the boats and yachts. I shook my head wryly. Most of the boat crowd were nuts anyhow. Hardly knew the stern of a boat from the bow. Crazy bastards. Took their lives in their hands every time they went out, and didn't have sense enough to realize the danger. Oh well, what you gonna do with them?

I heard the shower cut off in the bathroom. Sandy would come out in a minute. I went back to the chair and resumed my seat. I'd shock the hell out of Miss Sandy girl. I couldn't stop grinning. This was going to be real good.

I wondered if she'd come prancing out stark naked. I almost giggled out loud. Sure like to see her like that. Dripping wet and naked. Pretty as hell. Sandy was pretty as hell. Had to admit that. The way she wore a bathing suit down there on the beach knocked their eyes out. Wowed 'em. Made a guy gulp just to look at her. Made a guy get hungry in a certain kind of way. Yeah, man.

I sat low in the chair. The back of it was to the bathroom door. She wouldn't be able to see me when she opened the door and reached for the robe.

I listened to the door opening. Felt a slight tug on the robe as my back lay against it. I reached up and back quickly and caught her wrist.

There was a small, gaspy scream.

I laughed and pulled her clear over the top of the chair. Tumbled her across my shoulder down into my lap. Every beautiful bare inch of her.

There was much squealing and kicking and clawing with sharp red fingernails. I clamped my eyes shut against the onslaught. I pinioned her arms finally. Still laughing at the joke. I opened my eyes to grin into her blue ones.

They weren't blue any more. They'd turned hazel. The blonde hair had turned into a cascade of golden, fiery red. I caught my breath. What's Sandy done to herself?

It wasn't Sandy! This kicking, squirming, squealing, naked hunk of luscious redhead on my lap wasn't Sandy.

I groaned. I'd pulled another boo-boo.

Like a tiger the redhead struggled. Hazel eyes blazing up at me partly in anger, partly in fear. I tried to figure what I should do now.

Thank God she wasn't screaming her head off. Most girls would be sending out a volumn of screams that could be heard clear across the Atlantic. I held her wrists tightly.

"Take it easy, lady. I'm not trying to hurt you. I made a mistake, that's all. Take it easy."

A dimpled knee took a vicious swing at my face. I turned just in time. Caught the firmness of her thigh against the side of my face.

"Hey, wait a minute! No need doing that. This is all a big mistake. I told you. Calm down a minute will you? I thought you were somebody else. I thought you were Sandy. No need trying to kick a guy's head off just because of a simple little error."

"Let me go! Let me go you-you rapist!"

"Rapist? Listen, what the devil you talking about? I'm not about to rape anybody. Can't you understand? I thought I was playing a joke on Sandy. I thought you were Sandy."

She didn't find the joke very funny. She didn't laugh.

Neither did I.

"Let me go! Take your filthy hands off me!" I shook my head.

"'Fraid to. That is, until you understand. If I let you go now you'd run yelling to the cops saying I tried to rape you. That wouldn't do. Because I'm not trying to rape you. You gotta believe that. You gotta calm down first. Then I'll turn you loose."

I saw what little fear there was suddenly leave her eyes. Only the anger remained. Her voice got hold of a very nasty tone.

"Will you kindly cease staring at my body while you're waiting for me to calm down? You might even let me have my bathrobe! I don't find this situation very pleasant-even if you are telling the truth! Lying naked in a strange man's arms is kind of a jolt. I don't do it every day-just on week ends! So take your dirty hands off me right this instant!"

"You promise not to make a ruckus? You promise not to run out yapping about somebody attempting to rape you?"

"What choice do I have, you fool? I can't lie here like this forever with you looking at everything I've got. I guess I know who you are by now. You're Dyke. You're Sandy's boy friend. She said you were crazy."

I felt better immediately. Mightily relieved.

"And who the devil are you?"

"A friend of Sandy's. Also the girl who wants you to turn loose and get the hell out. Believe it or not, I find this truly embarrassing. Don't you have sense enough to realize that?"

I felt much safer now. I grinned down at her.

"Kinda modest, aren't you?"

"To say the least! Please stop ogling, will you? Let me have my robe! I mean it! I don't like strange men ogling me!"

"Just call me Dyke."

"Let me have my robe, you crazy nut!"

I turned her wrists loose. She reached a slim arm over my shoulder quickly and yanked the blue robe off the chair back and drug it across my shoulder and partly covered herself with it.

The dark blue robe, the red hair, the hazel eyes, and the white skin-it made a hell of a neat package. I sighed.

She glanced up at me.

I shook my head and groaned. She read the message. Suddenly she was laughing. Me too. But kind of weakly. "What's wrong, Dyke?"

"As if you didn't know."

"Tell me."

"You got me all shook up."

"How? Come on, tell me."

"You're beautiful. You stir me. You're a beautiful redheaded hunk of luscious wildcat."

She had lovely teeth when she smiled. Full, red, sensuous lips. She suddenly looked like a satisfied kitten.

"Good. Since you didn't go ahead and try to rape me, I was wondering if I'd lost my appeal."

I gulped. "We could start from the beginning again. You wouldn't be disappointed a second time. I assure you."

The redhead giggled. A very sexy sound. "Unnh-unnh. Can't."

"Why not? I'm willing."

"I bet you are. But Sandy's a friend of mine. You're her boy friend, not mine." Now the smile was excitingly coy. "I wouldn't think of double-crossing Sandy. Would you?"

"Try me and see."

"We don't even know each other."

"So what? I'm Dyke Donohue. Who're you?"

"Ginger. Ginger Gaines."

"Howdy, Ginger. Now that we're old friends, hows about letting me rape you? I'd dearly love to."

She touched my chin with a slim finger.

"You are cute. No wonder Sandy likes you. Big and strong and bronzed by the sun. I like men like that."

"I bet you tell that to all the boys."

The robe wasn't protecting her legs too well. What I could see of them was driving me kinda nutty. It was evident she realized this. I think it pleased her. Miss Ginger Gaines, I suddenly decided, was a tempting little vixen born of the Devil.

"It's too bad," she said. "It really is too bad."

"What's too bad? Everything seems pretty good to me right this minute."

Her red mouth made an enticing pout.

"Too bad you had to turn out to be Sandy's property. I think I'd like to have you for my very own."

"I'm divisible," I offered. "I can be shared."

Her hand playfully ruffled my chest at the opened top of the collar of my tan sport shirt. It did things to me.

I tried to kiss her but she turned her face away, grinning. "Don't. You don't belong to me. I can't enjoy you. It wouldn't be treating Sandy right." The hazel eyes teased. "Isn't it a shame?"

She was sure making it tough on a guy.

"More'n that. It's a downright disgrace."

I felt of her thigh. "Such sheer, unadulterated beauty. And a redhead to boot. Man! Redheads have always been my favorite weakness."

She slapped my hand away coyly and told me not to do that. "Don't. It might get to feeling too good."

"To you or me?"

"I'd better not answer that one. You figure it out."

"I know-to me."

"Could be." Her eyes laughed at my growing discomfort.

I ran a searching hand under the robe and cupped one of her breasts. Firm and silken soft it felt. I lost my breath for a moment.

"Hey, take it easy, big boy. That's one of my weakest points. It gets me all shaken."

"Good. I'd like to get the very hell shaken out of you. I bet you could prove to be a most interesting chunk of female."

She grinned and removed my hand.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how interesting I really can be when the notion strikes me."

I swallowed hard. I didn't doubt the truth of her statement for even one little second.

She raised up on her elbows, letting the points of them dig into the thigh of my leg supporting her weight. Even the slight pain felt good.

Her lush mouth, lips parted moistly, hung a bare quarter of an inch below mine. I felt a harsh pumping inside my chest. Her voice was a sensuous whisper.

"Isn't it terrible I can't let you kiss me?"

"A catastrophe," I moaned.

My left arm swept under her neck and pulled her mouth firmly against my own. Shockfire exploded in me. She let me get the devastating taste of her. Then she broke away. I was fit to be tied.

She laughed at me.

"Now what the hell," I frowned. "Don't tell me you're going to turn out to be a teaser. That's pure torture."

Her dainty finger touched my lower lip.

"You shouldn't have kissed me. It's not my fault if you get yourself all worked up. I had nothing to do with it."

"Who you think you're kidding? You're driving me nuts and you know it. Already I got the urge so bad I can taste it."

The finger followed the curve of my lip. The hazel eyes mocked. I caught the finger between my teeth.

"Ouch! Not so hard. It hurts."

I eased the pressure. She smiled. "That's better."

"You're delicious," I said, breathing hard. "I know it." Her voice was a kittenish purr. "I'm absolutely delectable."

"That's no lie. I feel like I could eat you right up."

"Would you like to?"

"Damn tootin' I would!"

"Well don't. There's no salt and pepper around."

"I wouldn't need it."

I was about to explode. The yen for her was growing inside me by leaps and bounds. She had that certain something which really gets next to a guy. That certain something which some girls have and some girls don't have. The sex. That's all I know to call it-the glow, the instinct, the feminine wile, the thing that draws a man to them. You can't put your finger on exactly what it is, but you know it's there. One look and you feel it clear through to the marrow of your bones.

Your heart leaps. One little touch and a guy is filled with a burning, aching emptiness. A kind of starvation grips him. He becomes like a bee around honey. He can't break away.

A girl like Ginger knows how to set up the craving in a guy. It's a game with her. She enjoys doing it, enjoys taunting a guy-watching the flame of desire grow in his face, laughing at the increasing eagerness in his eyes, teasing him on, tormenting him further and further into the web of his own hectic emotions ... watching him sweat. It's the kind of female who can hook a guy and then make his life a pure unadulterated hell, if she took the notion to do it. I'd seen her kind before, been hooked before. But a guy never learns.

"What are you thinking about, Dyke?"

"You, naturally."

"How?"

"How? How I'd like to make love to you, that's how."

She giggled and trailed her slim, perfumed fingers across my face. "You mean violent love, Dyke?"

"Very violent," I said. "How's about it? We got the opportunity. And I'm ready. Ready as hell."

She put those fingers on my mouth again. They drove me nuts. I'd try to catch them between my teeth. She'd snatch them away from me. I'd try again. She'd laugh. I could feel my blood beginning to boil over with passion.

"Let's do something," I said. "While we've got the chance!"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Sandy might come in. Wouldn't that be bad?"

"We could lock the door. No one could come in then."

"She'd have the key, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah. I guess so. But let's take the chance anyway. Life is no fun without taking chances once in a while."

"No. Sandy would hate both of us if she found us here together. You're supposed to be crazy about Sandy. Aren't you?"

"Sandy's okay. I think a lot of her."

"Is that all? Is that all you think of Sandy. She told me she was crazy about you. Don't you feel the same?"

"Look, what the hell has Sandy got to do with us? Right now Sandy is the last person in the world I want to discuss."

"Why, Dyke, that's an awful thing to say. You shouldn't want to ignore Sandy that way. You're supposed to be in love with her."

I groaned. This redhead could think of the damndest things to talk about at the damndest times.

"Aw, hell, honey, quit rubbing it in, will you? You know what the score is. You're a big girl now. You're lush and you're gorgeous and you got my blood up. And I want you bad as all hell. Right now that's all that counts. Sandy's got nothing to do with it."

The scented palm brushed over my eyes. Gave me a weak feeling deep down inside.

Then she laughed.

"You're true-blue, aren't you, Dyke?"

"Cut it, for crying out loud. I'm just like any other red blooded man. I get the yen for a beautiful hunk of woman like you and I want her. It's as simple as that. Why do you have to keep leading the situation around in crazy circles?"

"I like to confuse you," she said.

"Well you're succeeding. Are you getting a bang from doing it? Driving me batty, that is? Having fun?"

I was getting a bit sarcastic.

"Yes, having marvelous fun. You're crazy, Dyke. All of you fellows are crazy. You want every woman you see."

"Not all of 'em," I said.

"Sometimes I wonder," Ginger said, softly pinching the lobe of my ear. "Did you ever see a woman you didn't want?"

"What the devil do you want to know that for?"

"I'm curious. Tell me."

I moaned. "All rightl I saw a woman in a sideshow once. She'd been cut in two. I didn't want her. Now, you satisfied?"

"Yes ... and no."

I was getting a little vexed with all this pointless yapping. Why the hell was she doing it? To taunt the life out of me, that's why. I couldn't afford to lose my temper and get sore. I wanted her too bad by now. I felt I had to have her. I wanted to make love to her so bad I felt I'd melt if I didn't.

Her skin had a glow to it that set my taste buds to working overtime. It had a texture as smooth as the purest silk. And the aroma of her nearness sent my brain reeling. There was the faint scent of some sensual perfume. You inhaled it and felt it fuse into the blood stream.

"Are you mad?" she said. "You look mad."

"No. I'm happy as a lark."

"You don't sound it. Do you want me to get up? Do you want to go now?"

"You know damn well I don't want to go. I want some of you. That's what I want."

"You're blunt about it, aren't you?"

"Why not? That's what I want. You know it and I know it. So why the hell do we have to beat around the bush? I believe in calling a spade a spade. I want to make love to you. All the way. Is that blunt enough?"

She threw her head back and laughed gleefully.

The movement exposed her breasts. I bent quickly and kissed each of them with gusto.

"Stop it, Dyke! That tickles! Stop it now!"

I felt like tickling her to death-this way. I got my arms around her and crushed her close to my face, so she couldn't escape.

She laughed and wiggled and squirmed, trying to break me loose. "Dyke, don't! That drives me crazy!"

Me too. I was already half crazy.

Her breasts were firm. They were pointed. They were full. They fitted just right. They gave a sense of exciting, delicious fulfilment.

You felt you simply had to swallow them. Each of them. Both of them together. But that's kind of hard to do. So I flew from one to the other, maddened by the knowledge that I couldn't have both of them at the same time.

Her laughter rang in my ears. Her fingers buried in my mop of dark hair and tugged. The pain made her more desirable. Her laughter tore at the depths of my soul.

She was the most fascinating female I'd met to date. The fire raged. Like wild burning brush fanned by the wind. I had the big yen. The craven yen. Deep down inside me. Deep, deep down where it hurts.

She knew it. She was delighted by the knowledge. No mistaking that. She was having herself one hell of a good time adding fuel to the flame.

She struggled and laughed, laughed and struggled. She joyed in the fact that she couldn't tear me loose. It seemed to be proving something to her. That her charms were all-consuming.

I was blind to everything except the tantalizing grip of passion which held me. She was commencing to breathe faster and faster. The rosebud tips of her breasts heaved spasmodically, filling me with wondrous sensations at every rise. I moaned with pleasure.

My hands roamed her body. The touch of her thrilled my fingertips, sending shock-thrills up my arms to add to the frantic state of my brain. The robe no longer covered her. Her struggles had caused it to fall away. Only her shoulders were still covered.

I left the maddening breasts and swept the bare whiteness of her body. Clear down to her knees to where her legs dangled over the chair arm. I kissed every inch of her I could reach. She was entirely delicious. She was a true redhead.

"I've got to have you," I said. "I've got to have you, Ginger baby. I can't stand it!"

That laugh again. "No. I won't let you! I'll never let you!"

"The hell you won't let me!" I stormed.

I slumped forward, easing us both to the carpeted floor. She giggled and attempted to escape my grasp. I jerked her back roughly.

"This is rape!" she squealed, her red mouth mocking.

"Call it any damn thing you want!" I grated between clenched teeth, swinging her legs under me. "If it's rape, you're going to get the biggest raping of your redheaded life!"

"I'll scream. Dyke, I'll scream loud as I can if you don't stop."

"And I'll bust your teeth in! Go ahead, try it!"

She didn't scream. She laughed and kept twisting away from me so that I was having one hell of a time trying to get to her, but she didn't scream.

It was maddening the way she kept easing away from me just when I thought I had her. She was a genius. I had to admit it. She was a genius at driving a poor bastard to the brink of insanity for want of her.

And her taunting squeals of laughter didn't help a damned bit. I suddenly sank my teeth into her shoulder.

"Ouch! Wait! Wait!"

"You gonna be good?"

"Don't bite. Dyke, don't. You'll leave marks. I'll be good."

"You damn sight better! "

"I'll be good. Honest. Don't bite! Please!"

I released the tooth hold.

Her arms flew around my neck. Her red mouth opened and engulfed my own with a sensuous warmth. Her body pressed hotly against mine.

She stopped for a second. "It's still rape," she breathed.

"Okay. Have it your way."

"Rape me, Dyke. Rape me good good good!"

"I'll do my best, honeybabe. I aim to please."

I set in to do just that. It was wonderful work. The best I'd ever known. It was like dying and winging your way clear through the bright blue sky straight for the pearly gates. Her body was heaven itself. And she took me in with open arms.

Our lips locked in a sort of passionate death grip. Her hips, at first, moved with a silent, even rhythm. I was kind of jerky to begin. That was because of the eager state she'd worked me toward.

"Take it easy," she breathed. "I never did enjoy being raped too quickly."

Boy, what a woman!

She knew how to give a guy joy. My breathing was coming in long, low, deep sighs. Her legs were smooth heavens, her mouth a hot tempting depth of honey sweetness.

"You're wonderful, Ginger-wonderful!"

"I know it."

Even her way of saying things had its special charm.

Suddenly I was alarmed. I was afraid I was going to finish too quickly. She was just too damn good. When a woman is just too good, a guy is liable to blow his stack much too soon. A guy'd feel like a loony to pull off a stupid trick like that. There was too much here. Too much beautiful redhead. Too much white skin. Too much heavenly mouth. Too much wonderful electric body for a guy to savor it all in one short instant.

This was something to be drunk slowly at first, finding every thrill, every tiny, exquisite sensation to be discovered, passing nothing. All of her. That was the ticket. Get and take all, everything to be had. Not to be short-changed one tenth of a penny-that was the ticket.

We made long, slow, sensuous love.

"Oh god," I said. "I feel like dying----"

"Don't do that yet," she said. "Wait till we're finished. Then we'll die together."

"I'll try."

"For heaven's sake, do!"

I felt like screaming with happiness, she was so good. With her sex appeal, a guy wouldn't care if he died or not, once he'd had her like this. He'd know one thing. He'd know he'd lived.

The crescendo of her hips grew more vibrant. The carpeted floor was a bulwark. There was only the softness of Ginger's flesh to give. Nothing else.

Now her gasping was beside my ear. "I'll have to admit it," she hissed. "You're the most magnificent rapist in the world! I love the way you rape a girl. You must have plenty of experience."

My mind was beginning to whirl. To go into a frantic tailspin of excitement.

"I-L can't hold back much longer. You're too good. Too awful wonderful!"

"Don't you dare!" she said.

"I can't stop it," I said. "It's beginning to crawl over me like a million prickly ants. I'm sorry."

"No! Don't! Not yet. Dyke, not yet! I'll never forgive you if you stop now!"

"I wish someone was around to douse ice water over my back. Anything so I could hold on."

"Think of swimming," she pleaded. "Think of swimming in water full of icebergs! Think of something! Only please, for gosh sakes, don't finish now!"

I tried to concentrate on a mountain lake I'd seen once as a kid. It was high in the mountains. The mountain ridges were covered with snow and ice. Frigid winds blew across them. I tried to picture myself as ball-assed naked and wet and standing on the edge of the icy lake with my freezing feet in the water and the frigid wind turning me into a frozen ice man.

But it's so damned hard to hold onto a red-hot woman while trying desperately to turn to ice. Something's got to give. This redhead, this luscious Ginger, could melt all the damn ice in the Arctic.

I didn't remain a snow man over ten seconds at most. I was lost. The palpitating hips under me were calling. Every nerve in me leaped to the beckoning. It was about over. Rover boy was heading home-sweet-home. I couldn't fight the joy any longer-the sweeping joy that springs at you like an all-consuming cloud of pink mist.

"Sorry," I whispered, gasping. "But the ships are coming in. I see the big sails flying. They're coming straight for me, running over me."

"No, no! Don't, Dyke, please don't!"

"They're bearing down fast now. I wish I could stop 'em but I can't! I can't! They're rushing on the beach after me!"

"No! No! No!"

"Catch up, honey! Catch up, Ginger, honey! I'm running and I can't slow down! Hurry, baby! Hurry, sugar! Don't get left behind! Don't let me lose you!"

Suddenly she was with me. The wondrous hips went into full swing. Our timing became perfect. We met in utter exquisiteness.

"I'm with you!" she yelped.

The pink mist grew denser, became a cloud in my brain. We made beautiful music. Soul-searing rhythm. A melody somewhere out of this life. I heard a scream start inside me. It started at the tips of my toes and worked upward through my sensitized frame. Ginger heard it too, and muffled it with her open mouth, her lush, panting, wide open mouth. Her hotly sweet, gasping mouth.

We turned into frenzied rabbits. Making love fast and hard and without mercy. The beat was a study in timing. Heart to heart, belly to belly, hips to hips.

Then we were crying and clawing and biting one another. It was an unnerving experience ... until the very end.

CHAPTER TWO

Someone knocked on the door. But we, Ginger and I, were no longer on the carpeted floor. We were back in the chair. She was on my lap. She had showered again.

We glanced curiously at each other when the knock sounded. We knew it couldn't be Sandy. Sandy would have barged right in. We'd just finished laughing over the fact that, in our torrid match of lovemaking, we'd completely forgotten to lock the door of the room. Actually, anyone could have walked in on us, and wouldn't that have been a pretty sight for someone to find.

Ginger slid off my lap as the knock came once more. She moved across the room in her bare feet, wrapping the dark blue robe more closely about her.

"Yes?" she called.

"That you, Ginger?" A very distinct masculine voice.

"Yes. What do you want, Flick? I just finished my shower. I haven't finished dressing yet."

"So what? I want to talk to you. You alone?"

"Of course I'm alone. But I can't see you right now. I'll be down to the boat in a few minutes. Meet you there."

There was a pause, then the knob turned and the guy walked in and closed the door behind him.

"If you're alone, what difference does it make if you're dressed or not? Haven't I seen you-?"

That's when he noticed me sitting there.

His tanned face turned crimson immediately. He was a big, lean, handsome sort of guy, wearing a yachting cap with a gold anchor insignia on its crest.

He glanced from Ginger to me and to Ginger again.

Ginger was grinning saucily, as though pleased that the guy had found us alone together in the room with her only half dressed.

The glint of murder filled his grey eyes, making them greyer than they'd been when he first entered.

I tried for a friendly smile. "Howdy," I said.

He ignored my greeting. Turning back to Ginger, he said, "What the hell?"

"It's simple, Flick," Ginger informed him in a very sweet manner. "You're intruding. You know? What's that old saying about 'three's a crowd' and that sort of thing? Well, right now you're the third party. Vamoose, will you, Flick? This gentleman-" She indicated me "and I have some unfinished business to attend to."

Flick opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed hard and glowered across the room.

"Glad you dropped by, pardner," I said. "Drop in again some time, huh?"

Flick gave me a kind of snarl. Then he spun on the redhead. His voice spat like a gun. "You two-timing cheap bitch! I might have known you couldn't be in a hotel room five minutes without laying some man!"

I bolted out of the chair. "Hey, hold it, buster. Watch your language. There're ladies present!"

He didn't scare easy, I could see that right off.

"Yeah? Show me one."

Ginger laughed in his face.

"What's wrong, Flick darling? You jealous? My! My! It's true, Flick's jealous. The great gift to womankind is jealous over a poor little redhead like me. Can you imagine that! Why, Flick darling!"

"Shut your damned lying mouth!" said Flick.

I wondered if I could lick the big bastard. I don't mind fighting over a lady-love, but I sure as hell like to think in advance that I'm sure to win. In this case I had some doubt. This joker looked all man and a mile wide. I kind of hated to commit suicide by wading straight into him.

But a guy can't just stand there. A guy has to do something. I said, "Look, let's not get nasty, huh? The lady said she'd meet you later. Let it go at that. No need for trouble."

"Oh, shucks," pouted Ginger. "I was hoping you two fellows were going to fight over me. I bet you can beat him, Dyke. I bet you really can! He's not so tough, honest. Flick can't fight worth a hoot!"

Flick sneered. "You wanta try me on for size, feller?"

I shook my head. "Not if it can be avoided, Flick old boy. But I'm not backing up, either. You make the choice. I'll leave it up to you. But I think it's kind of silly."

"Aw pshaw!" groaned Ginger. "I thought we were going to have some excitement. Now it's spoiling. Darn it!"

I'd seen women like her before. They were always spoiling for trouble. They thrived on excitement. And they usually managed to find it one way or another. You had to be careful with a babe like Ginger or you'd wind up behind the old eight ball sure as shooting.

She was aching to see Flick and me at each other's throats. Nothing would have thrilled her more right that minute. Unless it could have been the sight of bright red blood.

Flick glared at me. I figured he was turning me over in his mind, sizing me up. Weighing the possibilities. I stared back. It was like a battle of glares. I got the feeling he'd jump me right that minute if I'd been one pound lighter in weight or one inch smaller around the chest. But I knew I was no picture of a weakling myself. Beach life may make a guy lazy as hell, but it keeps you robust somehow or other. Maybe it was the swimming that kept me fit as a fiddle. I liked to swim and always had, since I was a kid. They say there's no better exercise to keep a guy in trim. I reckon maybe that's right.

Anyway, Flick apparently was going to think twice before rushing in to tear me apart. He wanted to bad enough. I knew that. My guess was he'd like to do it in order to impress the redhead, even if he was sore as hell at her-at both of us.

I believe in instincts. Somewhere deep down inside me I got the feeling of danger. Not immediate danger. Although there was the possibility of that also. But it wasn't that exactly. It was the feeling, like an ominous hiss lurking far back in the subconscious, that when I'd met the redheaded Ginger and made love to her, I'd kind of automatically signed a fatal contract with my own doom.

I shook off the feeling. Almost succeeded, but the warning sign wouldn't disappear completely. When a guy has a feeling like that, something usually comes of it. The threat follows you around until it finally catches up. Then you recognize it, and it's too late to run away.

Ginger gave Flick a look of disgust. I wondered about them. What was the connection between them? I remembered some of the things Ginger had told me about herself right after we'd finished our passionate tussle on the floor. We'd talked a little while, catching our breaths. She'd told me that she and Sandy had been childhood friends. Now she, Ginger, was employed as secretary to Gus Loman, owner of the yacht Seven Seas. He always took her along on his yachting trips because his business was never completely out of his mind. Ginger had laughed. "It's a pleasant way to earn a living," she'd told me.

When the yacht berthed here at Eastland Beach, Ginger and Sandy had run into each other almost the minute the yacht tied up. They'd been thrilled to see each other after having lost track for so long. Ginger had told Sandy that although the yacht she worked on was wonderfully equipped, she was simply dying for a good old-fashioned bath in a solid bathroom which didn't roll with the ocean. Sandy had immediately taken Ginger's hand and led her up to her room at the White-crest Hotel and turned the place over to her.

Which brought me back to the connection between Ginger and Flick. Flick evidently was also employed on the Seven Seas, probably as its chief mate. It didn't take a genius to figure the rest. With a handsome man like Flick and a crazy redhead like Ginger on a luxury craft, some of the man-woman stuff was bound to happen. Flick no doubt had come to accept Ginger as his own private little bundle of excitement, and was jealous as hell of her. And who could blame him?

I figured it was time for me to bow out, graciously, if possible. I'd had my fun and big time. So by remaining here I had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Flick was blocking the door. I wasn't sure if he'd take my departure lightly or not. You never can tell what a guy will do when it's evident he's burning with hate and jealousy.

"What did you follow me up here for anyway?" Ginger asked Flick. "It's none of your business where I go or what I do! You're not my guardian, because I don't need one. I'm a big girl now! Hadn't you noticed?"

Flick winced. By the pained glint of his eyes I could tell he'd very much noticed. On the yacht he'd probably noticed everything about her there was to notice. And there was sure as hell plenty.

Ginger plopped herself in a chair and saucily crossed her legs, teasing us both with an ample view of knees and just above.

It was amazing what the dark blue robe did to enhance her natural beauty. She was a contrast in red hair and lips and white flesh and dark blue robe. It gave a guy a choking sensation.

Flick swallowed noisily. Ginger made a short laugh.

He found his voice! "Fanny-Mrs. Loman sent me for you. She wants you to do something for her."

"So it's 'Fanny' now? You and the boss's wife must be getting pretty cozy!"

"Shut up!" Flick snapped. He reddened.

"Tell her to go to the Devil," Ginger said. "I'm not her housemaid. I work for Mr. Loman. She probably wants me to help fix her hair. Well, she can go to a beauty parlor! I've other things to do."

"That what you want me to tell her?"

"Suit yourself," frowned the redhead. "I won't get fired. Mr. Loman wouldn't think of firing me!"

She said it like there was more to her confidence than met the eye.

I'd heard about Fanny Loman and seen a few pictures of her in various magazines and newspapers. She was supposed to be one of the most beautiful women in the world. A sensual brunette, she'd once been the top New York model before marrying Gus Loman.

I remembered reading about it, mainly because of the photographs. She was a rare, exciting beauty in the photos. Her husband was a pig. The whole thing had struck me as obviously a plain out-and-out business deal. Gus Loman was filthy rich. He had bought her undeniable charms, pure and simple. I remembered it had been so downright obvious that it was actually funny.

I hadn't been able to blame him though. If I'd had a million bucks I'd have done the same thing. Fanny Loman was a beautiful dish, no getting around that.

I headed around Flick and he didn't try to stop me. I said: "I better be going. I can see you two know each other pretty well. I'm in the middle. Be seeing you. Fight it out among yourselves. But just for the record, brother Flick, nothing happened here. I just dropped by to see Sandy, the girl who has this room. I never met Ginger before. It was just accident we're here together."

Ginger broke in: "You don't have to explain to him, Dyke. He won't believe you anyway!"

I grinned. "Even so, that's it, brother Flick. Take it or leave it. I gotta be going."

Ginger said: "You're the most suspicious man I ever knew, Flick! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

"Who the hell you kidding?" Flick yapped. "I been knowing you long enough to know how you are. I wasn't born yesterday!"

I walked out. "Sorry if I caused any misunderstanding."

Like hell I was. I'd had me a real ball with an intriguing redhead. An unexpected ball. Things like that should happen to a guy like me every day in the week.

The door slammed behind me the minute I was out in the carpeted hall and heading for the elevator. I bet that guy Flick was set to raise all kinds of hell now. I felt a laugh coming on. He was fit to be tied. I knew that.

I wondered what he was going to do or say to her now that I was out of the room. I reached the elevator landing, punched the button, and waited, grinning to myself.

Couldn't blame the guy for being upset, I thought. Any poor bastard would be jealous as hell of a tempting morsel like Ginger. Especially if he'd been around her long enough to have the urge for her grow to any kind of magnitude. Like being with her night after night on the yacht. Enjoying her like dope until he found out he was hooked and had the habit and couldn't break it.

It was easy to think of Ginger as something habit-forming. Dangerously habit-forming. Yeah man.

I waited for the elevator. I thought of slipping back and placing an ear to the door just to learn what they were doing in there alone.

It was a temptation. I had to fight myself. 'Curiosity,' they say, 'is what killed the cat."

The elevator arrived, and the mechanical doors slid open. I grinned wryly to myself and stepped in. It was empty except for myself. I punched the button for the lobby. The itch hit me again: What in hell would they be doing?

I jumped between the closing doors of the elevator. I laughed silently at my own foolishness. I thought: Damn my curious, nosey tail to hell!

I went back down the carpeted hallway. I saw nobody. I felt guilty as heck. Suppose someone noticed me when I eavesdropped on Flick and Ginger? I shuddered. Somebody ought to kick my stupid tail, that's what somebody ought to do.

The door was shut tight. I hesitated about leaning my face against it to hear what there was to hear. I was nervous over someone coming along and finding me like that. It was ticklish. The feeling of guilt crawling around inside me like a million gnawing worms.

I took the chance anyway. Being curious about things like that is one of my worst faults. I knew better.

I could hear voices. At first they were muffled. They soon began to come through clear and distinct. Flick's voice was mad.

"You can't do these things to me, Ginger! I won't stand for it!"

Ginger was laughing at him.

"Don't tell me what I can do and what I can't, Flick. And what you will stand and what you won't stand. You make me laugh spouting off about what you'll do."

"I mean it this time!" Flick said.

There was another laugh, a taunting laugh from Ginger. Then Flick said: "What are you doing that for?"

"So you can see me, Flick. So you can see me. Do you like what you see, Flick?"

I commenced to sweat. I decided that she had dropped the robe from her body and was tormenting him with her nakedness. I wished to hell I could see what she was doing. No doubt about it, that was one redhead who more than likely could make a man cut his own throat for her.

My brain commenced to buzz, attempting to discover a means of seeing.

I got the impression that she'd have the big bastard drooling over her within minutes. Something about their voices told me this.

"Don't do that, Ginger. Don't flaunt yourself at me. You know how I-" His voice had suddenly lost its sting, and there was a pang of pleading in it.

"Then don't look at me, Flick. You don't have to stare at me, you know. Nobody's forcing you."

"Oh, God, Ginger, you're so beautiful! So beautiful I could-"

The female giggle was full of delight.

"You could what, Flick? Tell me! You could what?"

"You know. You know how I am about you, Ginger. You know what your body does to me!"

"Start barking, Flick! Let me hear you bark!"

"Ginger, shut up! Stop talking that way!"

"Isn't my pet poodle hungry today?" she mocked.

I stopped breathing. The sweat was popping out now. Son of a bitch! I'd like to be able to see!

"Ginger, for pity's sake!"

"Come here, you darling pet," she said, her voice a sibilent, sultry sound.

"No! Ginger, don't! You look good enough to-"

"To what, Flick? Good enough to what? Say it!"

I commenced trembling, pressing my ear closer to the door. I wanted to hear the answer to that one myself. I sure as hell didn't even want to start to miss the answer to that one.

"Answer me, Flick. Come on, tell me, baby." Her voice was now a study in the art of coaxing.

In a way I felt sorry as hell for the big guy. It was easy to see, now, what a hold she had over him. I knew from past experience a woman like Ginger gets a hold on a guy like that she seems to get a bang from driving him crazy. A guy hasn't got a chance when he's hooked, I mean completely hooked. The best he can hope for is that she won't be cruel. If she's not cruel it can't be but so bad. But if she's heartless and gets her kicks by dragging a guy's face through the mud and making him like it, a guy is in one hell of a mess.

"Fli-ick...." Her voice was like singing a tune. "You haven't answered me...."

"I can't say it, Ginger! I just can't say it. It sounds too awful."

"You had no trouble last time."

"That was different. It was dark and I was half drunk...."

"You can whisper it in my ear then. Come here,' Flick. Whisper it in my ear. I want to hear you say it."

"Ginger, how can you be so cruel?"

"Come here, Flick ... come here, pet, and whisper in my ear."

There was a moment of utter silence.

I would have given my right arm to see.

Suddenly I heard the clump of Flick's big feet rushing across the carpet, then another sound as though he'd fallen.

Another moment of utter silence. Then Ginger was squealing with hysterical laughter.

I heard the sound of voices and a door opening down the hall. I got the hell away from there in a hurry.

CHAPTER THREE

I got off the elevator and ran into Sandy Martin coming through the lobby.

"Hi, honey," she greeted. "I've been wanting to see you. Something's come up about tonight."

"Like what?" I asked, displeased at the news. I'd been seeing Sandy almost every night. It had become a habit. I'd had the vague notion that one of these days, in one of my weaker moments, I might just up and ask her to marry me. But it was just a notion. I realized that this old boy wasn't about to ask anybody to marry him-unless, of course, it happened to be some babe with a million bucks in the bank. I'd always figured that some day my big opportunity would be found right here at the beach.

There was an old saying I believed in explicitly: that it's just as easy to fall in love with a rich babe as a poor one. Also in this wise I took the idea forward another step. Since I was a lover of rare female beauty, why not say that it's just as easy to fall in love with a beautiful rich babe as an ugly one?

Oh, well. ... every man to his own way of thinking. Sandy was as beautiful a blonde as a man could hope to meet. But she lacked the most important qualification. She wasn't rich. She was a hostess here at the Whitecrest Hotel. Other than her meagre salary, she didn't have a sou to her name-which let her out, as far as my marrying her was concerned.

But she had other things to hold a guy's interest.

Like her blonde body, which was lovely. Like her clear, clean forward personality. Like her laughing blue eyes. Like the feeling she gave you that she'd stick by you to the bitter end, if she loved you, and that another man wouldn't be able to touch her with the proverbial ten-foot pole.

"There's a bridge party in the game room tonight," she explained. "The boss says I'm to handle it, which, of course, is part of my job. Darn it! But that's what a hostess is for, to help see the guests enjoy themselves."

I frowned. "Hell of a break. What time will you be finished?"

"I don't know. Late, though. These bridge parties have a way of running on and on and on. No telling when it'll finally break up. Gosh, Dyke honey, I'm sorry. But what can a poor working girl do? You know I'd rather be with you."

She was genuinely disappointed. I could see it in the depths of her blue eyes.

"I don't like it," I told her teasingly, "but I guess I'll live. Maybe I'll see you later, if it's not too late. Hey, I just came down from your room. There's a knockout redhead answered the door. Who the hell's she?"

Sandy laughed. "I bet that did shock you, Dyke. She's an old friend of mine. Ginger Gaines. I let her use my room to take a shower. She's something, isn't she?"

I laughed and whistled. "You ain't just kidding!"

"Now listen here, buster. ... you stay away from Ginger, you understand? All the men go for her. I like her but I don't want her snatching you away from me. I'm the jealous type."

"Look who's talking," I grinned.

Sandy smiled and dug her nails in my arm. "I mean it, Dyke. Stay away from Ginger. You hear? I don't trust her. Or you, either. I'll claw somebody's eyes out if you get mixed up with her. I'm not joking."

She was joking, of course. But there was plenty of meaning behind her words just the same. An element of seriousness which wedged itself through her kittenish speech.

I took her hand and squeezed it. "Don't fret about me and your redheaded friend, sugar babe. Me, I'm strictly for blondes. I like the whitest meat there is....and the blondes have it."

She grinned. "Don't you forget it, either, you big bum!" Her eyes now shone with pleasure.

"How could I?" I said, winking. "You've taught me there's none better. And you're the best in the world."

She turned pink around the cheeks. "Shhhh. Don't talk like that. You embarrass me."

"I'll do you worse than embarrass you soon as I can get you alone. Maybe tonight. Who knows?"

She didn't answer that one. She was squeamish about some things. I got a kick out of kidding her that way. She gave a guy a good feeling, though-kind of like discovering there was still some good left in the world.

Until I'd met Sandy I'd about resigned myself to the theory that there wasn't one honest woman left around. A guy sees so much around the hotels, especially the beach hotels, where guys and gals come in the summertime for the express purpose of finding thrills. Since I'd been a lifeguard here at the Whitecrest I'd seen a lot of things and heard a lot of things and also done a lot of things. I wasn't the guy to pass up a damned thing whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Which it often did.

I headed toward the verandah facing the water and Sandy tagged along beside me, our fingers brushing. No one noticed except the desk clerk, and he only winked and gave me the shaking head grin.

"Did you hear about Fanny Loman almost drowning?" Sandy asked.

"No. What the hell happened?"

"She and her husband, Gus, docked the Seven Seas this afternoon, you know. Right here at Eastland Beach piers! Imagine that!"

"So I've heard. So what happened? Why'd she almost drown?"

"She went swimming," Sandy said. "I mean wading-Fanny can't swim a stroke. And you know that ter-' rible undertow we have? Well, she didn't know about that. It caught her and pulled her out over her head. They thought she was a goner."

"It didn't happen in front of my beach," I said.

"No, thank goodness. Up the line a ways. She was crazy, going out in the water like that with no one around to help her. That undertow is almost too much for a good swimmer, much less somebody who can't even paddle!"

I nodded in agreement.

"Who yanked her out?"

"Some kids were hunting seashells. They heard her screaming and two of them could swim well enough to manage to drag her back to safety. But it was a close call. Some people just can't seem to realize how treacherous the water can be!"

I grunted with disgust. "Crazy dame. She oughta learn to swim if she expects to hang around that yacht and the water. It's suicide. Plain suicide not to know how to take care of yourself in the water."

We were on the verandah now, and we moved to the railing. "There's the Seven Seas, " Sandy said, pointing toward the long steel pier lined with pleasure craft of all makes and sizes. "Isn't she a beautiful boat?"

"Yeah. Bet that yacht cost a couple of fortunes. Seventy-two feet of solid mahogany and brass doesn't come cheap. Most men couldn't afford to buy the anchor for a luxurious baby like the Seven Seas. Yep, she's a beaut all right."

Dusk was falling fast. Already some of the heat of the day was drifting away. This was the best time. Perhaps a cool breeze would come up later, whisking all the remaining hot air off, leaving the sands refreshingly cool. Then a guy could really breathe. The tangy salt air was invigorating when it was cool. Even misty cool. Now, off to the west the big orange ball of golden sun was sinking below the surface of the sea. I felt Sandy's cool fingers squeezing my own.

"Isn't it a beautiful sunset?" she murmurred.

"Not bad," I said quietly. "Not bad at all."

Lately it had been Sandy and myself every night, having a beer or a drink and then strolling along the beach in the cool moonlight, holding onto each other. I'd found a warmth in her I'd never experienced in any other girl I'd met. Something warm and heady and lasting. Something you felt like having with you always, even if it didn't fit into your scheme of things.

I'd always remember that first time with her. I'd remember it the rest of my life. A guy doesn't forget something like that. Especially if he's the first guy with a girl.

I'd thought Sandy was lying when she'd told me she was a virgin. I'd talked her into letting me come in her room after we'd had a midnight dip in the ocean together. I'd already known she was going to let me in. She'd been sweet and softly receptive out there in the water. Her skin had felt smooth as the sheerest silk when I'd held her on her back in a floating position. The silver sprays of moonlight worked magic on her wet body.

"Sandy baby," I'd murmured. "How can I teach you to float when you look so beautiful? All I want to do is love you."

"You had too many scotch and sodas tonight," she'd said. "They've gone to your head."

"It's not that, Sandy. It's you. I want you so bad, honey, I think I'll die."

"Don't, Dyke ... please don't say things like that."

"Why not? Why can't I tell how much I want you?"

"It only leads to trouble."

"Trouble?"

"No man has ever had me, Dyke. You won't believe that but it's true. I'm still a virgin, Dyke."

"I believe you, honey," I said. Which was a lie. I always took that statement from girls as a matter of course. Every one of them told you that. Usually though you found they'd been stuck more times than a pincushion. Anyway, what the hell did I care? I wanted what I wanted and that's what I wanted, virgin or no virgin. What the hell.

Holding Sandy there in the water that way, with her half-naked beauty floating in my hands, filling my eyes, had been too much for mortal man to bear. My lips commenced to sweep over her as though drawn by some powerful, invisible magnet.

"Dyke, pleese...." she moaned, making weak, vain efforts to stop me. "It's hard to resist you, honey. But please stop. I beg you."

"No," I said flatly, and continued to drink in her smooth wet flesh. Savagely I ripped off the halter of her swim suit and gasped at the gleaming spectacle of her breasts.

"My, but you're lovely," I breathed. "Sandy ... Sandy honey ... I've got to love you!"

I'd held her arms pinned to her sides and kissed those gorgeous breasts. She knew there was no use struggling. She could feel the fire of my hunger and knew that to resist was madness.

Then we heard some drunks stumbling along the beach, laughing and having a rip-roaring time. They couldn't help but see us as they grew nearer, and they commenced directing jocular remarks our way.

"Wonder what the guy and gal are doing?"

"What would you be doing?"

"Man, you know goddamn well what I'd be doing!"

"Hell, you can't do it in the water!"

"Oh, yeah? You got a lot to learn, man. You got a hell of a lot to learn. That's one of the best ways to do it!"

"You don't say!"

"Hell yes, it's terrific in chilly water. Hot when it goes in-cold when it comes out. Man oh man! Hot-cold-hot-cold-hot-cold. Hell, man you don't know nothin'!"

We found her bra halter and she slipped it on. We left the water and went up to her room. She tried to convince me she couldn't let me in, but I was not to be denied.

"You don't want to be taken here in the hall, do you?" I threatened.

She didn't turn the lights on when we entered her room. The moonlight was enough. I turned the latch on the door so that no one could disturb us. I turned toward her.

"Now," I said quietly.

She had resigned herself. She stood there, silver in the moonlight, her body still shiny wet. I walked to her, pulled the halter straps from her shoulders, loosened the button which held it around her belly where it had dropped, and tossed it against the wall.

Sandy said nothing. She put her hands over her face. I knelt and worked the tips of my fingers inside the band which was part of the skin-tight material encasing her hips. I pulled down roughly, peeling them down her long legs to the floor.

"Perfection!" I whispered.

I picked her up, carried her to the bed, and put her on it. Then, staring down at her, I stepped out of my swim trunks. I lay down beside her and took her in my arms.

"Honey baby," I said softly.

"I wish you wouldn't, Dyke. But I won't stop you this time. I can't. I love you. I can't stop you. That's how it is with me."

I felt the dampness of tears on her face. I thought: why do they always have to cry at a time like this? Hell, it's a time for joy and laughter, not tears. But they always have to make it seem so disasterous. Oh, well, what the hell ... let them have their way. Nothing you can do to change them. You had to let them get away with the innocent act, pretend you believed it when they swore you were the first guy they'd ever given themselves to. Hah, what a laugh.

I thought the world of Sandy. But I wouldn't have believed her in a hundred years when she said she was a virgin. I'd long since arrived at the conclusion that no girl got past the age of sixteen without some bastard topping her just once at least.

"Be easy with me, Dyke," she pleaded gently. "Try not to hurt me."

"I wouldn't hurt you for anything, honey, you know that."

I kissed her white trembling body from head to toe before taking her. She was a shimmering angel in the moonlight, and I hungered terribly over her for long, exquisite moments. Moments of delirious madness.

"No, Dyke honey ... no...." Her voice was a husky sound, a pleading sound in the silvered darkness.

Then I threw myself upon her, gathering up and crushing her loveliness to me, trying to find her, trying frantically to find her.

"Oh, Dyke, please don't hurt me. Please."

Brain-reeling moments later, when finally I found and punctured the sensitive virginity of her, a short, sharp scream of pain escaped her lips.

"Oh-oh, Dyke!" she cried whimperingly.

She is a virgin! I thought.

I took it easy with her for a while after that. Until she got accustomed to the pain. Then we had ourselves a ball, for the rest of the glorious night . ...

No, I'd never forget that first night with her. No, never!

But to a guy like me, variety, as they say, is the spice of life. I couldn't be with Sandy tonight, so why not cast the old gleaming eye around a bit to see what it could see? Sure, why not? I decided to take in a few of the beach bars.

The first couple of bars produced nothing. In one of them an underaged teener tried to give me the eye. That kind was dynamite, I knew. Jailbait. Had to pass up when they were that young. Couldn't bring a guy anything but trouble. And I mean real trouble. Yeah man. I mean! Experience talking.

I'd gotten drunk one night and fallen for one of the young ones, and I knew at least some of the results. We'd gone to her folks' beach cottage because she'd said they wouldn't be home. They'd walked in and found us naked in the bedroom.

One thing I'd been thankful for: she hadn't thought to yell rape. If she had my goose would have been cooked but good. I never could figure why she hadn't. I suppose she was too shocked to think of that angle.

But her old man beat the hell out of me with his fists and I made no attempt to stop him. When you're wrong, you're wrong; and I was sober enough by then to realize what a fool I'd been. I didn't lift a hand to the old guy. He was still pounding on me when I finally got out of the house half dressed and half undressed.

"You dirty bastard!" he screamed hysterically. "If it wasn't for the publicity I'd have you locked up for the rest of your filthy life!"

And he probably could have done it, too.

So I'd learned not to mess with the teeners. I gave this one a sexy wink, swallowed my drink, and decided to try another bar. The night was young and I was an ambitious sort of guy. I figured I'd score sooner or later. Just keep on the prowl, boy, just keep on the prowl with a sharp gleam in your eye. You'll make out.

CHAPTER FOUR

Later that night, still on the prowl, I ran across Gus and Fanny Loman in Nick's Bar and Grill. It came as a surprise to see them there. Nick's isn't known as one of the better spots, where you'd expect to see wealthy folks like Gus and Fanny Loman.

Then I figured out why. Gus Loman was stupefied drunk. I guessed that perhaps his wife had steered him in here to Nick's to avoid a scene in one of the fancier nite spots.

They were sitting at a table in a corner. Or rather she was sitting. Gus was slouched in his seat, his chin drooped loosely on his chest, his whole appearance denoting the fact that at any moment his tubby torso would start sliding and not stop until he was out of sight under the table.

I sipped on my double bourbon over the rocks at the bar and continued to watch them. Fanny Loman sat patiently sipping her drink and studying his grotesque features. There was an expression of utter disgust in the way she watched him.

"Fat boy's had it," Nick said, nodding at the Lo-man's and shaking his head. "You know who that is, Dyke?"

"Yeah. Gus Loman and his wife."

"Boy, she's a dish, huh? Give my left arm to have a woman like that. Wouldn't let her out of bed a minute." He laughed.

Nick was a Greek. He worked hard at his business, but he talked women and sex most of the time. His hair was curly and coal black and he was a pretty handsome guy. He got his share. But to hear him tell it, it would take a harem of beautiful babes to keep him satisfied. I got a kick out of him. He had the hot Greek blood in him, no mistaking that.

"All you need is a million bucks," I suggested. "You got a million bucks you can own yourself a babe like Fanny Loman. That's all it takes. A million bucks. You got that much, haven't you, Nick?"

Nick grinned and snorted. "That's a laugh. Tell you the truth, Dyke, all I can manage to do is sweat out the expenses month in and month out. It's a hell of a life."

That was Nick's standard complaint. He wasn't getting rich, I knew, but he was doing okay for himself.

"You're breaking my heart," I told him. "Gimme another shot of your lousy booze."

He slipped me the sardonic glance. "Man, you know damn well I don't cut my booze. Don't serve nothing but the best."

"Yeah. ... yeah," I said placatingly. "You don't have to try to convince me, Nick. I been around long enough to know the score. But you're a pretty good guy. I'm not complaining."

He gave my arm a friendly slap.

"At least I don't give you the cut stuff," he said, lowering his voice.

"Thanks. Say, tell me something. You seen any loose stuff hanging around tonight? I kinda got the yen for some strange."

He shook his head. "No singles tonight so far. Be some in later though I imagine. Stick around. You'll find something before long. Where's Sandy tonight?"

"Working. Had to take care of a bridge party at the hotel."

"Tough. Got so used to seeing you two together, don't seem right any other way."

"You know how it is. Guy likes to get loose for a little strange once in a while."

"Yeah. I know. Well, don't let her catch you. Hate to see you two lovebirds break up. She's a swell little babe if you ask me, that Sandy is."

"Sure is. One in a million."

"Oh, oh. Fatso is coming out of it."

I looked. Gus Loman was struggling out of his chair-or at least attempting to. He and the chair both crashed over backward.

Fanny Loman simply lifted her glass so it wouldn't get knocked over. She glanced around at us.

Nick and I went to help the guy back into the chair. I looked at Fanny Loman.

She smiled sweetly and sipped her drink.

"He does it every time," she said. "Thank you so much."

Nick said, "Hasn't your husband had enough, Mrs. Loman? I mean, look, I want your business and all that I appreciate it. But let's face it-Mr. Loman is stinko. Shouldn't you be trying to get him back to the boat?"

She glanced at me. She was the most terrifyingly beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. In my wildest dreams, I'd never imagined a creature could be so heavenly. It was almost a sin. I was wishing like hell I had me a million bucks if it would buy something like her.

I stared at her until it became embarrassing.

"Have you ever seen anyone escort Gus Loman anywhere before he was ready to be escorted?" she asked overpolitely.

She was speaking directly to Nick, but I found myself shaking my head kind of dumbly.

Nick said: "Oh, he's that way, huh?"

"Yes, he's that way. Very much so. One or two men can't do it. It takes a squadron. He fights every inch of the way."

"He doesn't look very dangerous right now."

"You're not trying to escort him, either. Go ahead, try it. See what happens. Is your insurance paid?"

"No thanks," frowned Nick. "I was only offering a friendly suggestion."

I kept my mouth shut. As far as I was concerned Nick and Gus Loman had ceased to exist for me. There was nothing but her.

I swallowed noisily. They looked at me strangely. I felt myself turning red. Fanny Loman studied me for a moment, lights dancing far back in the depths of her dark eyes. She knew my trouble.

"Thank you for the nice compliment," she said.

"You-you're certainly welcome," I choked. For the life of me I couldn't think of any other thing to say.

Nick laughed loudly. He took my arm and led me back to the bar.

"Easy, boy," he said. "Take it easy."

"Gimme a triple this time, Nick."

"You need it, man. You really need it."

I stayed a while longer, staring across the room at the brunette with the smooth olive skin and pink lips and flashing dark eyes. She was a flame burning in the center of my brain. Never before in my life had a woman so stunned me with the sudden shock of instant, wild, haunted longing.

"Your hot eyes are bugging, boy," Nick quietly told me. "Better have another. Something to slow you down, huh?"

He was leaning toward me, his elbows on the bar, grinning with that all-knowing attitude of his. "It's not nice to oggle the customers with that I-could-eat-you-up expression," he continued.

Maybe it was the booze, but I didn't think so. I asked him a very pointed, serious question: "Nick, tell me something. Is it possible, really possible, that a guy can see a woman and fall in love with her right then and there? No kidding, is such a thing possible? I'm serious."

He gave me his special look of disdain, a kind of sidewise action.

"I reckon maybe you had one too many. Nope, you better not have any more booze, Dyke. Not tonight anyway. It's making you childish."

"Cut it out, you Greek wise guy. I'm serious about this. I'm not drunk. I asked you a direct question and I'd appreciate a direct answer instead of your snide, soberer-than-thou remarks."

Nick laughed. He glanced at Fanny Loman, then back to me. "Well, I suppose with a babe like that it could happen to a lunatic like you, Dyke. Yes, I suppose it could."

"Ever happen to you?"

His features darkened perceptively.

"Well, has it, Nick? I'd like to know."

I'd touched a sore spot under his hide.

"Yeah, once, goddamnit! Now lay off the subject, willya? I don't want to dig up old memories."

"But it did happen to you, huh? At least once? It is possible then, is that right?"

He looked at me hard. "I told you yeah, goddamnit, Dyke. Now skip it. You asked me a question; I answered it. Let's leave it at that, huh?"

I grinned all-knowingly at him. It got the better of him. "Aw go to hell," he said gruffly and swung away to wipe the bar with a white cloth. "I never shoulda admitted it to you."

"Well, thanks anyway, Nick. If I got your goat I'm sorry. I'll let you kick my tail sometime."

"Make it real soon," he sneered with dry humor.

I told him I'd do that, and finished my drink before leaving. Fanny Loman's image burned inside my head all the way back to the hotel. It was an entirely new experience for me, and I couldn't begin to understand what had happened. All I knew was that it was something powerful. Powerful as hell. My blood ran hot and cold with a strange concoction of love and torrid desire.

"I was hoping I'd find you here," Sandy said when she came into her room and found me stretched across her bed.

"How'd the bridge party go?"

"Okay. A little tiresome, but not too bad. One of the men slipped me twenty dollars, and that certainly didn't hurt my feelings."

"Guess not. He didn't make a pass, did he?"

"No, darn it." She grinned to show she was kidding.

I watched her slip from the yellow evening gown and hang it carefully in the closet. She had allowed me to have a duplicate key made to her room about a month back. Often I came and waited for her like I'd done tonight. She'd told me once it made her feel like a kept woman, letting me take over like that.

She sat at the dressing table and commenced removing some pins from her blonde hair, letting it cascade in a cloud of loveliness over her shoulders. She was beautiful, I thought, but not nearly so beautiful as Fanny Loman.

"How did you pass the time tonight?" Sandy asked.

"Miserably. Went over to Nick's for a few shots. Killed time shooting the breeze with him. You know what a card he is."

She smiled in the mirror at me.

"You didn't see any girls?"

"You know better than that."

"Just trying to convince myself," she said. "A girl likes to be reassured."

"Be reassured then," I said and winked at her reflection in the mirror.

I liked to watch her doing things at the dressing table. It gave me the sensation of possession. I felt that I owned her. And I was intrigued by the way a female prepares herself for bed.

"Don't forget to leave a little lipstick on," I cautioned.

She turned her head toward me. "You don't have to keep reminding. I know how you want me by now-just a little lipstick. No powder. Just a little of your special perfume. I remember."

I nodded, grinning. "That's right. That's just the way I like you. It drives me nuts."

"I aim to please," she said, turning back to the mirror and running the comb through her hair with beautifully done strokes.

After that she went into the bathroom and came out wearing black silk nighties. She came to the side of the bed and said, "Do I pass the master's inspection?"

I reached and grabbed her and tumbled her on the bed with me and started the intriguing play of taking her out of the black silk nighties.

"I don't know why I put them on in the first place," she said.

"Me, either. But it's a hell of a lot of fun getting 'em off. They're teasers, that's all they are, and you damn well know it."

Sandy laughed. "Just another of my natural feminine wiles," she said. "Something to keep the boys fascinated."

CHAPTER FIVE

Sometimes a lifeguard gets pretty bored sitting up there alone on the tower. Most of the time you got nobody to talk to. So after awhile you start talking to yourself. It's a way you have to keep from going nuts. You remark to yourself that the old Atlantic is mighty blue-green today. And smooth. Usually is that way when the heat is terribly terrific.

You watch a couple of gulls sailing up there in the hot sky and commence to ponder them. So pretty and graceful the way they glide about, like snow-white sailboats. They do it so easily, so effortlessly. Then you watch as one of them glides down fast, skimming the surface of the water, and briefly his beak touches the water, and he immediately rises with a few lazy flaps of his white wings and you see a morsel of food being gulped down his throat. Sometimes the morsel of food is too large to swallow and the other gull swoops in and tries to snatch it away from him, and there is a lot of hawking and angry carrying-on until one of them manages to choke down the hunk of food. Then they go right on gliding together, their argument forgotten, just like that, as friendly-like as you please.

After tiring of watching the gulls, you get to looking far out to sea. You wonder about that pack of small boats out there together. You know they're some of those crazy fishermen. The sporting kind. And you wonder how the hell they can enjoy fishing out there under that broiling hot sun. But you can't figure the sport fishermen out, you know, because they say there's just no way to explain a man when the fishing spell is upon him.

So you look past them, farther out, away out there on the horizon and you see a big passenger or cargo vessel steaming along and you amuse yourself with the idea of guessing where it has been or where it is going, and doing this, wondering about the destinations, brings you back to the days of the war and some of the excitement and horror. And you block your memory to keep out the horror, and try only to remember some of the good times, the exciting times.

So you recall that hot and extremely lovely little girl you met in Tunis, who liked you and felt your intense loneliness and took you home with her because her folks were off working. She fed you delicious spicy foods you'd never tasted before and gave you a strange pungent wine and lots and lots of love ... and made you feel you'd be so very missed when you were gone.

You recalled things like that to pass the time of the hot day, and you recalled the whorehouses in Naples just a block off Via Roma and the tough U.S. Army M .P .'s and what a sweet racket they had patrolling the after-dark joy houses. Yeah, man, they really had it made, those guys.

And then you can't keep out the memory of climbing those two-hundred steps from the dock up the side of the cliff at Oran, North Africa, and how one of your buddies got his throat slit wide open by an Arab after they'd slipped down an alley to complete a cigarette transaction, which was taboo, but which most of the guys dealt in, because American cigarettes were bringing twenty bucks a carton.

Things like that. And now that some of the grim incidents were trying to creep in you closed your eyes and mind again to get rid of all thoughts and memories of the war.

You get to watching the people around you and wondering about them. You watch the fat ones and the skinny ones and the old ones and the young ones. Some of them are dressed in such outrageous beach attire.

It's not the younger ones so much that get you. They can get away with anything, because it's sort of expected. No, it's the older ones that make you feel funny or grim.

Take that old geezer lying over there in the hot sand. It's easy to figure him out. He's a retired business man. He's supposed to have some sense. But look at those skinny spindly legs and that big stomach! In his too tight swim shorts with his balding gray head and pale flesh simmering to a sickly pink under the sun, you have to shake your head and ask yourself why. Hell, the old guy must surely be suffering. He's likely to drop dead with sunstroke. Then why?

The stupid old bastard is trying to keep from admitting that he's aged and out of the running, that's why. He's seeking the return of a lost youth. It's kind of pathetic. When he can't stand the sun in his face any longer he hides behind his dark sunglasses and sneaks peeks at the young stuff around.

Then you see the older women, overly dressed in the brightest eye-catching colors. These babes do anything to attract attention. Some of them even load their fingers and arms down with jewelry. They overpaint their lined faces, the older ones, and try to give the impression of having money. They can think of more questions to ask a lifeguard than a battery of district attorneys. You have to smile and seem interested. Part 54 of the job.

Sometimes I like to watch the approaching figures of people far up the beach and imagine how they'll look when they come into sharp focus.

I was doing this now. I knew it was a guy, because even at that distance I could see there was nothing on the figure above the waist. The guy was strolling along the edge of the water, once in a while making short runs out behind a receding wave to grasp up something, probably a sea shell.

When he got closer a faint recognition hit me. Then I knew it was Gus Loman, and my interest perked. He looked ridiculous. His squat bull torso seemed to squeeze up out of his red and white striped trunks. His monstrous chest was covered with thick curly black hair which spread over his shoulders and arms. His legs weren't much better. He waddled straight for the lifeguard stand. My innate sense of curiosity commenced to act up. What the hell was he going to want with me?

"You give swimming lessons?" he asked me. "Huh?"

He was staring up. I was staring down into his dark face. Although he was cleanly shaven his black beard still shadowed his fleshy face. His eyes were large and alert and black as the oily slicked-back mop of hair on his head.

He had to glance down because the sun was in his eyes. Then he grinned up at me again.

"Do you teach people how to swim?"

"Yeah. Sure. Sometimes."

"I want to hire you then."

I could see Gus Loman wasn't a man to waste words. "You never learned to swim?" I asked him.

He laughed. "Oh, sure. It's not me-it's my wife. She's had a couple of narrow escapes lately because she never could swim. I decided she oughta know how. I figure everybody oughta know how to swim. Never know when it'll come in handy, especially when you hang around boats like we do."

I nodded. "That's for sure."

"How much you charge?"

I started to tell him five bucks an hour, which was the going rate. But since he didn't know that I knew who he was, the words came out differently:

"Ten dollars an hour," I said calmly.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his features. Then he grinned. "You know me?"

"Nope. Sorry."

"The hell you don't. I'm Gus Loman. You figure I'm loaded and you're doubling the rates. Ain't that right, boy?"

I had to return his grin. He was crude as hell, but there was something frank and likable about him.

"Can't blame a guy for trying, Mr. Loman. Okay. Five bucks it is, then. You're too sharp. I figured you could afford ten so I tried. So what? No harm done."

Gus Loman laughed. "Hell, you got the ten," he said. "I like a guy with a little larceny in his soul. If it hadn't been for a big wad of larceny in me I never woulda made my pile."

"I'm Dyke Donohue," I said. "Glad to know you, Mr. Loman."

"When are you available, Dyke?"

"I'm stuck up here where you see me from nine in the morning till two. Then another guy takes over. I can handle it any time other than that."

"Good. Can you slip over to the Seven Seas this afternoon? I'll get you and my wife started on the lessons right away."

"Sure can, "I said. "Will four o'clock be okay? The heat begins to simmer down about then."

"That'll be fine," he said. "We'll be expecting you."

"I don't know if I like this or not," Sandy Martin pouted. "Dyke, you can get tied up with the darndest people-specially beautiful women! Sometimes I wonder what I'm going to do about you!"

"Just you keep me plenty loved, sugar baby. That's the ticket."

"Oh, that's all you think about," Sandy said, mussing my hair with slim fingers.

We were in her room. After I had been relieved by Hunt at two o'clock, I'd run up to my room on the top floor of the hotel for a long drawn-out cold and refreshing shower. Then I'd slipped on a sporty T-shirt and a pair of Bermuda shorts. I stayed in swim trunks so much of the time it was always a relief to get the hell out of them if only for an hour or so. Then I'd found Sandy on the verandah and we'd gone in to the bar for a coke and after that we'd hightailed it up to her room so that we could relax in real cozy comfort. It was a kind of steady routine with us.

"I think we should get married," Sandy said serious-ly.

"What you talking about? You know we can't do that."

We were lying across her bed, smoking, and gazing through the window at the big blue-green ocean, dropping our cigarette ashes in a glass tray on the window-sill.

"Sometimes I wonder if you aren't just kidding me along," she said, more to herself than to me.

"You're nuts, baby. Why the hell would I want to do that? We'll get hitched one of these days."

I didn't know if I was trying to convince myself or not. A guy could do a lot worse than being married to a girl like Sandy Martin. I was under no delusion about that. She was the real thing.

Only I wasn't ready for the real thing.

The real thing had to have cash grafted somewhere on it. Plenty of cash. The long green. Sandy Martin didn't have that. Too bad. Really too damn bad. Pity, that's what it was.

In the meantime, though, she did have her points.

"Sometimes I find myself getting a little scared," Sandy said quietly.

"About what?" I sucked a cloud of smoke into my lungs, wondering what she was getting at.

"Oh, I don't know really. I suppose I worry too much about the future. Where I'll be ten years from now. Things like that."

"You sure are feeling low today, baby doll."

"Yes, I guess so."

"Don't take life so seriously. It's just a lark anyhow, didn't you know that?"

"Maybe you're right, Dyke. But a girl worries about such things. Being hostess here at the Whitecrest Hotel is a happy, glamorous job any girl would envy, I realize that. But I don't pretend I want it to last forever. I want a home of my own someday, and a husband and-yes, kids of my own, too."

"Sure you do, that's only natural. And you'll have all that one of these days." I reached and patted her cute little behind. "I'll see to it personally."

"I can't feel sure about you, Dyke. I never have been able to feel sure about you."

"Hey, honey, what kind of talk is this? What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Like you say, life to you is just a lark. I can't bring myself to feel that lightly about it. I love you, Dyke. That's what's made my life seem so serious these past few months. Oh, I know you like me and all that. Maybe you even think you love me a little. But is what you feel really love? That's the question which haunts me."

I laughed at her feminine fears and let my hand run up her soft leg.

"Of course I love you, honey. Stop worrying so much, willya? Life is too short, honest. Look, you only live once, right? So let's live it up while we've got the chance. Come here to me, sugar, I feel like proving how much love I've got for you right this minute."

I gathered her body close against me.

But she hesitated and turned her mouth away.

"Not now, Dyke ... please? I'm not in the mood for that today."

I felt a strong sense of disappointment.

Then she got off the bed, went to her dressing table, and pretended to be primping, her back still to me.

"When do you start giving Fanny Loman swimming lessons?" she asked without turning.

"This afternoon. At four I'm supposed to be aboard the Seven Seas. About thirty minutes from now. We still got time. Or do you intend to keep the cold shoulder turned on me?"

"I told you, Dyke; I'm just not in the mood today. Maybe Fanny Loman will make love with you. She's much more beautiful than I am anyway."

Then I fell back laughing. So that was it. Sandy Martin was jealous. That's what it was. That's all it was. Well I'll be damned....

I finally left Sandy's room and returned to my own in time to change into swim trunks again before heading out and down the beach to the jutting pier which berthed the Seven Seas.

CHAPTER SIX

Gus Loman and his wife Fanny had been waiting for me. At least Gus had. They were on the sun deck. He was under the awning sipping a Scotch and soda and glancing through a newspaper when I arrived.

His wife was draped on a blanket on the sunny deck. She wore a pink G-string affair, the bottom part of a Bikini I took it to be. Her breasts were bared to the sun and the curious eyes of a couple of gulls gliding overhead. When she realized my presence she casually reached for a polkadot bandanna and dropped it lightly across those olive beauties, which had all but snatched my breath away.

Gus snickered at the shock in my eyes.

"My wife is supposed to be a very charming woman, Dyke. And also one of the most beautiful females on the face of the earth. So you shouldn't find your task of teaching her to swim too unpleasant."

There was, I detected, a strong ring of sarcasm in his tone. I felt ill at ease.

"Fanny, this is Mr. Dyke Donohue," he said matter-of-factly. "Dyke is going to try to teach you how to swim."

The girl's dark eyes studied me with wry intensity.

"I?ve seen you somewhere before," she said.

"Last night," I said quickly. "At Nick's Bar. Mr. Loman fell and I tried to help. ... "

Gus Loman laughed. "Fell? Aw hell, lay it on the line, Dyke. I don't remember it but I know I was drunk.

An old hobby of mine, getting plastered. Did I cause any ruckus?"

He grinned from one of us to the other.

I shook my head. "Not at all."

I found myself wondering how she had managed to get him safely back to the boat without help. Big as he was, she couldn't have managed without assistance from someone-unless he had sobered up somehow, which was doubtful.

Gus glanced at his wife as though expecting some sort of explanation.

"I sent for Flick," she said. "He managed it, like he always does."

"Was I out all the way?"

"Limp as a rag."

"No fight then, huh?"

"No. He brought you aboard hefted over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes."

Gus laughed loudly and slapped his thigh. "That's me, Dyke! That sounds like Gus Loman all right enough! Once I start hitting the booze I don't stop till the lights all go out. I'm that way about everything. Go whole hog, that's my motto. No matter what I'm doing, I go whole hog. Business, women, or booze. That's the way I am. That's how I made my dough. Whole hog, that's me."

Fanny Loman gave her husband a withering stare. "No two ways about it," she said, her voice edged with sarcasm, "you can certainly act like a pig sometimes."

Her remark didn't shake Gus Loman the slightest. He finished his drink and yelled for another. The big guy I'd run into earlier in Sandy's room, Flick, came forth with a fresh glass on a small tray.

He gave no sign of recognition when he saw me. But I could sense a sore spot of embarrassment hidden inside his bronzed hide.

I wondered about him. Evidently, in addition to skippering the Seven Seas, he was also cabin boy and general nursemaid to Gus Loman and his fabulous wife.

I kept half-expecting the redhead, Ginger Gaines, to appear, but so far she hadn't made her entrance into this screwball crew of the Seven Seas. Perhaps she was ashore somewhere.

I sneaked glances at Fanny Loman every chance I got. She was what you call one of those raving beauties. It's hard to describe the feeling, the effect her olive skin wrought on a man. It was a kind of helpless sensation, like you'd do anything she asked you to do, no matter what it was, without the slightest thought of refusing.

I swallowed hard, and she glanced quickly at me, catching me off guard again, like she had last night at Nick's. I felt the embarrassment rising under my flesh as she grinned knowingly.

I felt the danger in her then. That lost feeling. Stronger, much stronger than I'd ever felt it in my life. That fatal fascination feeling. The helpless lure of the moth for the flame. The hypnotic calling of Evil....

The moment passed, and a shiver of fear took it's place as I tore my eyes from her. I suddenly had the crazy urge to run, to get away from there before it was too late. It was a crazy, frustrated, mixed-up, emotional warning from somewhere deep inside me.

It was insane. Too late for what? I shook it off and tried to think clearly. What the goddamn hell was wrong with me? Still the uneasiness persisted, but I managed to keep it mostly quelled. Don't be a goon, I kept telling myself. You're lucky, Dyke old boy. Lucky as hell to be called in to teach this bewitching creature to swim. And just think, you're going to get paid for the privilege. Lucky guy, Dyke, lucky guy ... you got nothing to gripe about. Nothing at all.

Gus sipped his drink. "Where do you give the lessons, Dyke? Just anywhere out there along the beach?"

"Doesn't make a lot of difference," I told him, "as long as the water's calm. It's calm now. When it's rough you can't do much. Sometimes it's best to use the hotel swimming pool. I use the one in the basement of the Whitecrest, where I'm employed as lifeguard. It does pretty nice."

Fanny lolled on one side and reached for a package of cigarettes lying on the blanket beside her. I caught another glimpse of her bare breasts, and my heart let out with a crazy pumping.

"Do many people use the pool?" she asked. "I hate to make a spectacle of myself trying to learn to swim." She grinned. "You're going to have a rough time with me, Dyke. I'm scared to death of the water. I've tried to get rid of the fear, but I never do. When my feet can't feel anything under me I get absolutely petrified! I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself."

"No one uses the pool this time of year," I assured her. "Hardly ever. It's used plenty in the cool season, and sometimes when the sea is too rough for some. But most of the time it's pretty private. You won't have to worry about having an audience, if that bothers you."

"Good. That's fine. I'd much prefer it that way."

Gus grunted. "Is it a salt or fresh water pool?"

"Fresh. It's better, I think, to learn to swim in fresh water. You're bound to gulp a little water sometimes, and salt water can make you sick. Then too, fresh water has less buoyancy than salt water, much less buoyancy. When you get the hang of swimming in fresh water, which is more difficult, you never find any trouble making out in the salt water."

"I guess you're right," Gus admitted. "I never thought of it that way, but I can see the sense to it."

"Are we supposed to start today?" Fanny asked.

"I understood it that way," I said, looking at Gus. "But if you'd prefer another time...."

Gus said, "What the hell you think Dyke is here for? Get your robe and stuff and get going. You said you wanted to learn to swim, now go and learn!"

Fanny lifted her pink-tipped fingers to me in a gesture to help her rise. Without thinking I complied, as though snapped to a brisk command. She held the bandanna loosely against her breasts with her free hand, but it dropped completely from one firm rose-budded mound. I was in a kind of shock.

"You don't have to be so nasty about it," Fanny snapped at her husband.

She didn't offer to thank me for my assistance. She took it as a natural matter of action due her.

Gus Loman guffawed at her brief anger.

As she walked away toward the cabin, she let the bandanna fall and trail along the mahogany deck at her feet.

"I'll be ready in a jiffy, Dyke," she said with a fling of her raven tresses. We watched her go.

She had the kind of walk that could drive a man mad; and you knew that she knew it, and you knew that she revelled in the fact, and found a sense of power in it. Seeing her, you felt her power squeezing at your innards, sapping your own strength from you. It was an experience that left me breathless. "Dirty bitch."

I stared at Gus Loman. I saw that he was following his wife with dark solemn eyes. He hadn't realized he'd spoken.

"Did you say something?" I inquired.

He seemed to snap back to reality. "No. No, I didn't say anything, Dyke."

I was a bit stunned. I wondered what the hell was eating at Gus Loman.

Fanny Loman hadn't been lying when she'd told me she was afraid of the water. It was worse than that. The minute her feet were off the cement bottom of the hotel swimming pool she became hysterical with fright.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," I tried to convince her. "It's only waist deep at this part of the pool. You don't have to worry, I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I know that," she complained bitterly. "But you don't understand; nobody understands. I'm horrified of the water. It's no use, I'll never get over my fear. You may as well give me up. I'm hopeless. I'll never learn to swim."

I tried to appear confident, and laughed. "Oh, sure you will. Everyone is afraid at first. You get over it after awhile."

I was beginning to wonder about that, though. After three sessions in the pool she'd gotten exactly nowhere, except to drive me out of my mind with lust for her.

I burned for her like a lost soul aflame with the torturing fires of hell. But it wasn't going to do me any good. She'd made that very clear in the beginning, that first afternoon.

When we'd first entered the big enclosed swimming area, she glanced about, apparently satisfied.

"Well, it's certainly nice enough," she said quietly.

"Yes."

"And private. That's nice, too."

"Very nice," I agreed. "No one to stare at you."

She smiled at me, unfastened the belt of her yellow terrycloth beach jacket and let it fall from her shoulders, displaying her olive body in a pink Bikini.

She was still smiling.

"Except you, Dyke," she said.

I took it as a kind of invitation.

I grinned. "Except me. I always was a very lucky guy."

The raven tresses had swung slowly, sensually, from side to side.

"Not this time, Dyke. That's one thing we want to get absolutely clear right now. This is to be strictly a hands-off policy, understand?"

I know she could see the obvious disappointment in my face.

She gave a small taunting laugh.

"It's very cozy in here for two people," she said. "Don't let it put ideas in your head."

"I hadn't figured on any ideas other than teaching you to swim," I said, hoping she'd believe me.

She searched my face, devilish imps dancing deep in her dark eyes, laughing at me. She passed her fingers across the hair of my chest. I felt the lightning strike clear to the tips of my toes. She found what she had been seeking in my eyes, and laughed again.

"Don't be a fool," she said confidently. "I wasn't born yesterday. Of course you have other ideas. But that's all right, I don't mind that. Thoughts can't do any harm. But keep them to yourself, that's what I'm demanding. Drool all you like as long as you don't show it."

She went down the steps into the shallow end of the pool, glanced back over her shoulder and commenced folding her black hair in a bun on her head in preparation to donning her pink bathing cap.

"Do we understand each other, Dyke?"

I felt like the biggest fool who ever took a breath.

"We do."

She wiggled a finger at me coyly.

"Come on, then. Lesson one is about to begin."

Dumbly, I followed her into the pool.

It was pure hell, holding her, touching her, trying to get her to pick up the first fundamentals of swimming.

I couldn't keep my mind on my business. She was all smooth olive flesh in a pink Bikini.

Every time she found her feet not touching bottom she grew frantic and clawed her body up on mine. Her nails were sharp. I felt the pain of them cutting into my arms. It was a wonderful pain.

When her nails dug into my shoulders it was all I could do to keep from snatching away the strands of Bikini and ravishing her with all my strength and longing.

Sandy gave me hell that first night because she didn't like the idea of my using the hotel swimming pool to teach Fanny Loman to swim . She knew that in most cases I gave the lessons out front, out there in the wide open spaces. That was the practice of most of the lifeguards along the beach at the various resort hotels, when teaching someone.

"Why is it you always take the beautiful ones down to the hotel pool?" Sandy asked sarcastically.

"Some are more afraid of the ocean than they are of a small safe-looking pool, that's why. Anything wrong with that?"

She snorted, to show that she wasn't swallowing this excuse.

"Aren't the ugly ones ever scared? You never take them to the pool!"

"Aw cut it out-your jealousy is showing." I laughed, and gave her a swat on her angry behind. "Looks don't have a damned thing to do with it."

"Says you," she pouted.

I kissed her. "That's right. Says me. What are you going to do about it?"

She shrugged her shoulders, and stared from the bed at the ceiling of her room. "Nothing. What can I do?"

"Then come here." I pulled her close. I was still steaming from the effect Fanny Loman had left on me. I needed to take it out on somebody.

"I shouldn't even let you touch me," Sandy said. "You've probably got that sexy Fanny Loman on your mind."

"Cut it out. You got a crazy imagination. It's you I'm hungering for and nobody else. Come on, gimme gimme gimme. You're beautiful and you're wonderful and you're driving me nuts!"

"I bet!"

But she opened her arms and her mouth to me, and for a while we were the only two people alive in the whole world.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It looked as though this was going to be another hot, dull day. That's the trouble with being a lifeguard at a swanky hotel. Every day is practically like the one before it. You sit up there on that perch in the heat, and try to keep your mind occupied so you won't fall into the habit of dozing. Or you wish you were back in the air-conditioned bar at the hotel sipping a tall cool one.

I had settled down for the morning vigil when Ginger Gaines came along, wearing a two-piece swim suit which was as red as her strawberry-colored hair.

"I've been hearing things about you," she said. She mentioned she needed a cigarette and I climbed down off the perch and gave her one.

"That right? Like what, for instance?"

"I heard Mr. Loman ask his wife if you'd fallen in love with her yet?"

"At the first swimming lesson? Is the guy nuts or something?"

"He can be very sarcastic when he wants to be," Ginger smiled.

"Well, he's got the wrong idea about me. I don't fall that easy-or that quick."

"Most men do where Fanny is concerned. Happens every day. But maybe you're different?"

"Maybe I am."

She sat in the sand and I got a peek at her exciting breasts before she adjusted her halter. I squatted beside her.

"I'm bored," she stated flatly.

I laughed. "How about your handsome boy friend? What's his name? Flick? Can't he keep you entertained?"

She shrugged her delicate shoulders. "Flick Sills is a mouse, not a man. He presents no challenge at all."

"I gathered he was pretty crazy about you."

She gave me a devilish look. "So what?"

I got the idea she was hinting that we get together for another red-hot sex session. But I wasn't exactly in the mood. I couldn't get over the notion that Fanny Loman was the one I wanted. And anyway, Sandy had been pretty good to me last night. She'd been in a better frame of mind when we'd awakened this morning, too, making me love her again as the cool dawn breeze off the ocean swept over our bodies.

I told Ginger: "You won't stay bored. The way you look, the guys will be killing each other over you around here."

"Yeah, I know. But most of the guys are mice. I don't like mice. I don't like them at all!"

She left after finishing her cigarette. I climbed back on my perch and adjusted the bright canvas awning overhead. It had flaps that could be rearranged to ward off some of the sun. Then the beach commenced to fill with people of various ages, many with the same, various everyday questions:

"How far out in the water can you go before getting over your head?" one would ask.

"Hey, Guard, there're not any sharks out there, are there?"

"Will you please keep a special eye on that little boy in the white trunks? He's so wild! And he doesn't realize how dangerous the water can be...." The same old daily routine.

Hunt relieved me at two. I went to the hotel kitchen and fixed myself a couple of ham sandwiches, a habit which had become a sort of unauthorized privilege allowed me. Then I bought a couple bottles of beer at the bar and took it all up to my room.

I had a quick shower. Then, in a pair of light shorts, I sat in a chair and propped my feet on the bed and drank the beer and nibbled on the sandwiches. It was very relaxing.

After that I had a cigarette and stretched out on the bed for a short snooze. I had the window opened wide and the cooler going. You're not supposed to do it this way, but I like the feeling that the cool air is fresh. And that was one way of making certain, even if it caused the air-conditioning unit to work overtime.

I'd been thinking about Fanny Loman all morning. That provocative hunk of brunette had really gotten under my skin. She was so beautifully seductive it hurt to look at her. I wanted to snatch off those tormenting strings of her Bikini and ravish her in every way it was possible for a man to ravish a woman.

She was built for it. She was created for love. I tried to imagine how it would be making love with her. My brain heated with all sorts of fanciful notions. I got excited just playing around with the images of her and me like that.

I bet a man, once in her arms, would never want to leave them. Would fight to keep from leaving them. Would almost kill to keep from leaving them.

I decided I wasn't going to be able to have a nap. Desire to hold Fanny Loman kept my brain far too intrigued. But I wasn't minding this at all. Day-dreaming can become a most interesting pastime.

No telling how long I lay there like that. But after awhile someone knocked on the door and snapped me out of it.

"Come on in, she's unlocked."

Then I sat up quick and rubbed my eyes. It was the redhead, Ginger Gaines. She closed the door behind her and, smiling impishly, leaned against it. I saw her fingers hover about the latch.

"Well ... howdy," I said.

"Hi, yourself. You look comfortable enough."

"Am," I said, and relaxed on my elbow. "Join me?"

"Might just as well. Shall I turn this silly latch?"

"Suit yourself."

She took care of the door and came over and perched on the bed beside me.

"How'd you know my room? Not that I'm not glad."

"Simple, silly. I asked that stupid guy at the desk. He told me."

"Honey, that stupid guy at the desk is the loudest blabbermouth on the East Coast.

She grinned, and there were devils in her eyes.

"Well ... so what? Are you afraid of your reputation, Dyke?"

I had to laugh.

"I was thinking about yours. What if Flick Sills knew you were in my room? He'd start another storm, wouldn't he?"

"Let him. I can handle him with my little finger."

"I suppose you can at that."

"Maybe you're more worried about Sandy," she said.

"Naw. Nothing like that."

"Does Sandy ever come to your room?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Good for you. You don't advertise your romances."

"Found out it never pays to. The girls learn a guy is a talker, they leave him alone, let him die the slow death."

She laughed and reached for my cigarettes. "Is that the way a man feels when he can't find a girl to give him any love? Does he feel like he's going to die?"

"I know I'd feel that way. I can only speak for myself."

She ran her fingers over my chest. "I bet you never have any trouble. I bet every girl on the beach is making a play for you."

I shook my head. "I wish that was true, but it's not. Not by a long shot."

"Sandy probably takes pretty good care of you in that department," she suggested.

I grinned, but let the subject of Sandy pass unanswered.

She snatched a couple of hairs from my chest. It hurt, but I didn't give her the pleasure of making me yelp.

"Having fun?" I asked her.

"Did it hurt?"

"Some."

"Good."

"You like to hurt people?"

"Just some people."

"Like me?"

"Yes."

"How come?"

"Oh, I don't know. I never tried to figure it out."

"Well, don't leave me bare-chested, if you don't mind."

"Shucks, and I was enjoying myself so much."

"Glad to oblige," I said wryly.

She kicked off her sandals and swung her legs on the bed and let her knees lean against me. The red shorts she wore were mighty short-short, making a tempting contrast with her white flesh.

"If you tried to make me," she said, "I wouldn't fight very hard."

"Very interesting," I laughed and snatched at her halter, instantly baring her pointed, rose-tipped breasts.

She caught her breath at the suddenness of my reaction, and her hands flew to cover them. "Gosh, Dyke, you're fast."

"Sure am."

I took her wrists and forced her hands away.

"They sure look good. Like ten million dollars. Ginger baby, I just gotta gnaw on 'em a little. Yessir, they're so pretty that I just gotta."

She laughed.

"There's one stipulation," she said. "Yeah?"

"Yes. Try not to bite too hard. It leaves marks."

"Yeah."

"I'll squeal if you do."

It wasn't long before she was squealing. But that's all she did. She was enjoying it too much to make me stop.

I headed for the Seven Seas around five o'clock. When I went aboard I didn't see anybody except Flick Sills. He was polishing brass fittings along the sun-deck rails.

I felt the tension when he saw me.

"Howdy," I said.

The big fellow merely gave me a grunt, and went on polishing the brass. "Mrs. Loman about?"

"She'll be here in a minute."

I stood around, feeling uncomfortable, watching him. He was wearing tan slacks and was bare from the waist up. Quite a man, I thought. His arms were smoothly muscular. He had the ruddy complexion of a man who liked the sun.

"You been with the Loman's long?" I asked.

He didn't look at me. "Long enough."

I could see he didn't want to be friendly. I wondered if the redhead was aboard, but I didn't dare ask Flick. A question about Ginger would set him off for sure.

I wanted to avoid trouble with the big guy if I possibly could. He looked like he might be a real tough baby if it ever got around to that.

Then a puzzling question hit me. "Tell me something, you can swim, can't you?"

He turned, and his frigid stare was more like a snarl. "What the hell do you think?"

"I would imagine you're a damned good swimmer," I said. "Probably a real damned good one."

"That's right. So what about it?"

"I was wondering why they hired me to teach Mrs. Loman to swim, when you could have done the job yourself."

Embarrassment touched his face briefly, and he returned his eyes quickly to the brass rail to resume the polishing.

"How the hell do I know? Ask her if you want to find out!"

He was acting so nasty about my presence I decided I'd better leave him alone.

A few minutes later Fanny Loman appeared and we left the yacht and headed for the hotel pool.

"What's eating that guy, Flick Sills?" I asked her as we walked along.

"Flick? Nothing. Why?"

"He acts like he's got a great big hate on for the world."

"Oh, don't pay any attention to him. He's just moody, that's all."

"How come you didn't let him teach you to swim? I bet he's a pretty good swimmer himself."

"That's true, but I didn't want him to."

"No?"

"No. I don't like for him to touch me."

"Gets a little too friendly, huh?"

She laughed. "Something like that."

"Can't much say I blame him." I grinned.

"Well, don't let it give you ideas."

"You don't have to worry about me. But I wouldn't for a minute lie and say I didn't want to."

"I think we'd better change the subject," she answered coolly.

I felt let down somehow. She was going to give me the iceberg treatment all the way. That much was becoming more and more apparent.

We walked into the big room where the pool was, and there were a couple of kids playing in the water. I found myself wishing to hell they'd take off. They were yelling at each other and water-battling and the sounds of their voices reverberated against the walls.

When Fanny and I were in the water, they came over and asked us if we wanted to water-battle with them.

"No," I said, showing temper. "Why don't you kids go out on the beach? It's a whole lot more fun out there."

They laughed. "Why? You and your girl friend want to be alone so you can make love?" one of them said. Fanny laughed at my discomfort. "Beat it," I said.

They finally left, after making some jeering remarks.

We went on with the swimming lessons. But we weren't making much progress. She was petrified of the water. Every time her feet left bottom she climbed all over me. She went nuts with fear, I went nuts with desire.

It was hell, with her arms locked around my neck, her body crushed against me, her legs locking themselves around me in her frantic efforts to hang onto something, anything, in her frenzied state.

"Oh, I'll never get over it," she cried.

"Just takes a little time. You'll make it."

"No. No I won't. I nearly drowned once when I was a kid. Some other kids pushed me off a pier into the water. I'll never forget that nightmare! How I flailed and kicked and tried to scream but couldn't because all that water was filling my throat and lungs! Oh, Dyke, it was awful! Have you ever known how it feels not to be able to breathe?"

I knew. "It's rough all right. But you'll forget all about it once you learn how to swim. You'll regain your confidence then. Everyone does. You just have to keep trying till you have it whipped."

"I think it's hopeless," she said. "But if you wish, we'll keep trying. I don't know how you can put up with me, though. I know I make a silly swimming pupil."

"You'll be streaking through the water like a fish before I give up," I assured her with my best grin.

I felt her relax a little.

"You do make me feel better about my chances," she confided. "There's something about you, Dyke, that makes a girl feel ... safe."

That was good, the way she said it. At least I knew that she recognized me as something human, with feelings. Not just another jerk among jerks.

I sure as hell didn't want Fanny Loman to look on me as a jerk. She was the most desirable woman I had encountered in my life. She had to know I existed. If I failed to get her to know that, I felt as though my reason for living had failed.

I figured she was beginning to know it.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," I said. "You don't have to be afraid of the water when you're with me. I'm not going to let you sink."

There are some things a guy wants to say and there's just no way of saying them. Like I was wanting desperately to tell her that if she'd let me I'd hang around and protect her day and night and always.

"You're nice," she said. "Thank you. I do feel a lot less scared now."

She became more at ease, and we continued with the swimming lesson. I took it careful with her, being cautious to see that her face didn't get in the water.

"You've got to learn to kick," I told her. "And you'll never learn to do that unless you get over the fear of your feet not touching bottom. Look, trust me, will you?"

"I'll try, Dyke. I'll try."

I held both my hands under her, one just above her stomach and the other under her thighs.

"Now try to kick and paddle at the same time."

"Don't let me go under!" she cried.

"I won't. That I promise."

Her coordination between hands and feet was terrible. It was pathetic. But she seemed to be trying so hard to follow my instructions, so desperately hard. Now that she'd mastered this one little thing, this simple feat of being in water without touching bottom, hope seemed to suddenly spring like a blossoming flower inside her.

"I'm doing it!" she cried. "I'm swimming, Dyke! I'm swimming!"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Not yet you're not. But we've managed to climb over the first hurdle at least. From now on we should make excellent progress."

"Oh, I'm so happy I could kiss you!"

"I couldn't think of a better reward," I said.

I wished to hell she meant it. But I knew that she didn't. The proper tone wasn't in her voice. She was just happy about getting her feet off bottom and that was all.

You can't win every time, I told myself with some misery. There were times when you did, but usually they didn't come with a girl as gorgeous as Fanny Loman.

But when she finally tired of paddling around under the support of my hands, and regained her feet, she was so excited she took my face between her palms and kissed me, a warm, sweet, parted-lips kiss.

I thought I'd faint from the taste of her honeyed mouth. Then she put her hands on my chest and pushed away.

"How's that for appreciation?" she laughed.

"Fanny...." My voice sounded like a moan in my ears.

"Don't look so stupefied! You earned it!"

"Fanny. Look, I-"

A certain look was in her dark eyes; a look of mastery. I could feel it and she could feel it. It was the bright look of dancing devils, the look that said she knew she owned me.

Then she was backing away from me, sensually, slowly, her mouth slightly open in an expression of high, taunting pleasure.

I followed her dumbly, as though drawn by some mystic power impossible to resist.

"I love you," I said. "Fanny, I love you...."

I don't know where the words came from. They just came.

The devil lights were dancing with utter joy now. She backed against the side of the pool and could retreat no farther.

"Stay away, Dyke! Don't come any closer!"

She may as well have ordered me to cut my own throat, and she realized it.

She was making me come to her. She was revelling in my helplessness to resist.

As I closed in, she reached out, and heavenly fingertips touched my mouth, a mock pretense of halting me. A million bright sparks ignited my brain and body. She saw the stark craving in my eyes. A small laugh escaped her parted lips. A cry of anguish welled up in me.

Then I had suddenly grabbed her up in my arms and my mouth was ravishing her body in a fit of babbling confusion.

She laughed, a sound of high-pitched excitement. Her sharp nails dug into my scalp with a kind of blood-lust reflex. Her flesh was intoxicating. It seared and petrified the brain.

No saying what might have happened if those damned kids hadn't returned at that moment.

"Hey, look at the sweethearts making love!" they laughed gleefully.

I could have murdered the little bastards.

Fanny twisted away from me. If she hadn't I wouldn't have stopped even then. She was too wonderful and I was too far gone.

"Dyke! Don't be a fool!"

I had to let her go.

As we were leaving I pleaded with her to go to my room with me. "No one will ever know, I promise you!"

She laughed and said: "Not a chance, Dyke. Things got out of hand there for a moment. But we're back on level ground now. It's over. You're quite a man, though, I'll have to say that for you. But don't let it happen again."

"Why not? You seemed to get a kick from it."

"Just a moment of weakness, I assure you. Dyke, if you could have seen your face! You looked so pitifully torrid to kiss me, I didn't have the heart to refuse you just that once. You were real funny, honest you were!"

"It was serious as hell with me. But I'm sorry you take me for such a fool. Fanny, just what kind of girl are you?"

"A fascinating one I hope."

I couldn't argue with that.

"You mean there isn't a chance for me?"

"Dyke, I'm a married woman!"

"So what the hell's that got to do with it? I want you, Fanny. I want you like I never wanted a woman before in my life. I'm not kidding. I'm giving it to you straight!"

She smiled at me teasingly. "Okay, Dyke. I believe you. And I haven't said absolutely no, have I?"

My spirits commenced to rise again.

"And for God's sake don't say no!"

"How about 'maybe' then?" she teased.

"That's much better," I said eagerly. "At least I can keep alive on a semblence of hope."

"Oh, come now, it's not all that bad, is it?"

"The hell it isn't! Baby, you just don't know!"

I walked her as far as the pier.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time," she said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

After Fanny had gone I fell to thinking about Sandy Martin. I found myself brooding over her. I thought the world of Sandy, knowing that she was a wonderful girl. I hated like hell to hurt her in any way. It was the last thing I wanted to do. I felt that Sandy was truly in love with me. Until now, in the back of my mind, I'd always kind of guessed that ultimately Sandy and I would be married and settle down to live like normal people, raising a houseful of kids.

But now things were different. Fanny Loman had made them different. She had altered my entire outlook on life and what I wanted from it. With a woman as exciting and beautiful as Fanny roaming the earth's surface, I knew that I'd never be able to settle for anything less. I had to have that intoxicating creature. I felt I'd spend my life dying a little each day if I didn't have her.

It was a few minutes to seven when I got back to my room. I was in a moody frame of mind. I poured myself a big slug of bourbon, carried it into the bathroom, squirted a little water in it and let it slide down my throat. The whiskey hit my belly with a warming, relaxing sensation. I smoked a cigarette and commenced to feel better.

I slipped into fresh slacks and sport shirt and went down to the hotel grill and had a short order snack. I didn't go to the main dining room because I knew Sandy was hostess in there, and I wasn't particularly anxious to run into her just now. I had some thinking to do.

After I finished my dinner I went onto the verandah for a smoke. I sat on the railing and watched the darkness falling over the ocean. There was a refreshing breeze.

A couple of times I got the urge to go in and see Sandy and talk with her a few minutes. But what was I going to say to her? That I'm sorry, Sandy honey, but I've found somebody else? Is that what I wanted to tell her? No, I knew I couldn't say that to her. I liked her too much to hurt her.

I hung around the verandah for awhile, mooning and gazing, letting time slip by. Just when I was about to convince myself I needed another shot of the bourbon, Sandy emerged, fumbling in a small bag for a cigarette. She didn't see me at first because I was in the shadows. Watching her, I knew she'd found a minute to slip away for a quick smoke. She moved to the far end of the verandah and gazed off in the direction of the Seven Seas.

I wanted to talk to her, but I hesitated to talk to her. Something inside me was stewing around in a kind of quandary.

Finally I decided to hell with it; I was acting like a fool. I went over to her.

"Whatcha see out there in the darkness?" I asked.

"Nothing you'd be interested in." Her voice sounded flat.

Something was wrong with her. I felt it in my bones and from the strained silence which followed her remark.

I touched her arm.

"Baby, what's eating you?"

She moved her arm away.

I knew what was wrong immediately. That damned desk clerk, I thought, that blabber-mouthing bastard has already shot his mouth off about the redhead being in my room today.

She spoke without turning, her voice carrying the sound of repressed emotion.

"If you don't mind, I came out here to have a quiet cigarette-alone."

"Why you giving me the deep freeze bit?"

"It really doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more."

"You're talking in circles. I don't follow you."

A tinge of anguish was growing inside me as I felt myself losing contact with her. I hated like hell to see a wall spring between Sandy and me. We'd had too many wonderful times together. Even if that part of us had to crumble I hated to see everything go. I didn't want her to dislike me.

She had assumed we'd be married one of these days. She had an uncle who owned a small hotel at Vero Beach, Florida, and several times she'd mentioned he was getting old and needed somebody to take over and ru i the place.

"It'd be a swell opportunity, Dyke," she'd enthused. "Not much money to start with perhaps, but we could build the business up, and when Uncle Sims retires in a year or two I know he'd let us have the place."

"Sounds good," I'd said. But I hadn't actually been interested. "Maybe we'll get married one of these days and just truck right on down there to Vero Beach. In the meantime, we'll sleep on the idea."

"Oh, you! All you can think about is a bed!"

I'd laughed. "With a blonde in it. Like you."

Now, as we stood there on the verandah, I thought about these things. I'd had my blonde and my bed both that night, and she'd been sweet and overly passionate, her body rising eagerly to me, her moans singing sweetly in my ear.

I felt a sharp pang of regret.

"Sandy, what's wrong?" I fumbled for her hand. She snatched it from me angrily. "Please don't touch me!"

I took her arm and spun her toward me. "Look, what the hell's the matter with you? If you've got something in your craw, spill it out. No need pouting like a ten-year-old schoolgirl. You're a big girl now!"

"Take your hands off me, Dyke! I mean it!"

"I will not, until you tell me what this is about. I'm due some sort of explanation for your sudden change of attitude. Give me the why of it. I want to know."

I felt her tremble. And then I felt her tighten up, as though she was getting a determined grip on herself. She'd been avoiding my eyes, now she suddenly faced me.

"It simply amounts to this, I've been a dumb little bunny for a long time. Today I suddenly woke up and discovered what a fool I've been."

"Just what the devil are you talking about?"

"About being a crazy fool, Dyke, that's what. Did you ever live in a sort of golden daydream and then wake up to the harsh reality of the facts?"

I felt what she was leading up to.

"Facts? What kind of facts? You gone nuts or something?"

She shook her head, and her voice caught as she attempted a mock laugh.

"Why the simple facts of life, Dyke. The stupidity of silly women in love. It happens every day the world over. And we never learn."

"Learn what? Stop the riddles, will you?"

"That dreams never come true, that's what. We fall in love with a man and we give him all the love we have to give, and we believe his love is as sincere as ours, and that, like in fairy tales, we'll one day be married and live blissfully happy in our dream houses ever after." She threw back her head and a laugh-sob escaped her lips.

I shook her. "Are you drunk? Fairy tales? Cut it out, will you? What the devil you getting at?"

The shaking settled her back to anger. "You! That you've let me make a complete fool of myself, Dyke. Oh, I know, I can't really blame you; the animal in man can never be truly blamed. He gets what he can get anyway he can get it. He tells a girl he loves her and hopes she believes him enough to turn her body over to him for his pleasure. I made that mistake, Dyke. I believed your lies. I believed you loved me and I returned your love with everything I had to offer."

"And what's so wrong with that?" I demanded.

She tried to pull away from me, but my grasp on her aims was too strong. "What did you tell Ginger Gaines today in your room? That you loved her, too? Tell me, Dyke, just how many women do you love?"

So there it was at last, as I'd known it would be.

That bastard desk clerk, I thought. That dirty, miserable, squealing sonofabitch!

What was there to say to her? I shrugged and let go of her arms.

"If you expect me to give with the alibis, forget it," I told her.

"No, don't. It wouldn't become you, Dyke. I don't want your explanations or excuses. They wouldn't matter any way. Actually, though, I suppose I should thank you. You've taught me a very important lesson I guess every girl has to learn sooner or later."

"Yes?"

"No man will make a fool of me again, I promise you that. So thank you, Dyke-thank you for that much at least."

"You're welcome," I drawled with sarcasm. "Very welcome, I can assure you."

She brushed from me and went into the hotel. I watched her go, a sense of deep moroseness trying to boil inside my chest. You get that feeling when you suddenly see something good walking out of your life and you know you're not going to lift your hand to try to save it.

The harsh, weakening sense of utter finality-you feel it strong in your bones and the quick dryness of your throat. You know instinctively that something bad is happening to you, that a great loss is in the offing; and yet, knowing all this, you do nothing, absolutely nothing, but silently watch the thing of goodness disappear before your very eyes.

I felt lousy as hell after that. I thought about that bottle of bourbon in my room. Instead, I left the hotel and headed for the main drag, where the bars were-where the bars and loud music and laughing voices and happy faces were. I felt the urge to really lay one on, get stinko and so forth.

"Well, Dyke boy!" greeted Nick as I slid onto a stool in his joint. "How's it going, how's it going!"

"Gimme a double bourbon. Aw, hell, make it a triple."

Nick gave me the look.

"Laying the groundwork?" he asked slyly.

"Maybe. I'm in the mood for it."

"Starting kind of early."

"Yeah, that's right."

He fixed the drink like he knew I wanted it, over the rocks, and slid it toward me on the mahogany bar, leaving a faint trail of moisture on the wood.

"Troubles?" he suggested.

"Something like that." I downed half the glass of bourbon and lit a cigarette, waited for the soft warm glow to settle down around my guts.

"Anything I should hear about?"

So I told him about the break with Sandy.

"Tough," he said dolefully. "I kind of thought you two kids were made for each other. Right and proper like."

"Hell, you never know for sure," I said. I swallowed the other half of the bourbon and pushed the glass back at him to be refilled.

"I guess not," he frowned. He remade the drink for me. "Better take it easy, boy. This way you won't last an hour."

"So what."

"So nothing. So go ahead and get plastered. I sell booze. And your money spends just like anybody else's."

"Don't go and get cute on me."

"Never happen," he said drily.

Considering the mood I was in, I certainly didn't want anybody preaching to me, telling me how much I should or shouldn't drink. That, I figured, was nobody's business but my own. It's a free world.

A couple of guys were sitting up the bar a ways, lushed to the gills and making a lot of noise.

"Go do your preaching to those birds," I told Nick. "They need it a hell of a lot worse than I do."

Nick shook his dark head sadly and moved away. "Was only offering a little friendly advice," he said quietly.

"Sure, sure. Save it. I don't need it."

"You're the doctor."

After awhile the place began filling up. I kept on hitting the stuff pretty heavily. Nick left me alone, except to fill my order. He was keeping busy now. I watched him. Nick was okay, I finally admitted. But when he looked my way I never met his eyes. I didn't feel like being friendly.

I finished the drink I'd been toying with, paid my tab to Nick, and went outside and ambled unsteadily along the street. Now that I'd managed to work myself into a nasty frame of mind, I felt at least something had been accomplished. I was trying hard to conjure up a dilly of a big hate for myself and the world in general.

At night Eastland Beach is like a facsimile of Coney Island. Crowded. People in shorts and slacks and even in bathing suits, packing the walk. The bars are livening up this time of evening. You hear dance bands blaring, juke boxes jumping with rock n' roll and three-piece combos knocking out a downright sinful beat.

I ambled along in the jam, glancing in the various bars, looking for nothing in particular. Sometimes a guy knows only that he is looking for something, something vague, not knowing what it is he seeks. He doesn't know what he is actually seeking until he sees it. Then he knows ... then he recognizes what it was he was searching for so vaguely all along.

Several times I had the definite urge to return to the hotel and try to make it up with Sandy. The idea kept returning to eat away at me. But I stubbornly refused to accept it. It was better for both of us that we'd made the break. It certainly was better for Sandy, I knew that. Sandy took things too seriously-things like life and love and marriage and raising a family. Only natural for a girl like her. But I wasn't ready for the things she was ready for. A man like me is never in a hurry to shoulder the responsibilities which come from marriage.

Anyway, I liked Sandy, but I didn't love her. And the way I'd always heard it, marriage without love on both sides isn't worth a tinker's damn.

Still, the break with her, even though probably for the best, left me with a haunting sense of loss ... or maybe it was anger at myself for hurting her.

I found another small but fancy bar and went in. It wasn't too crowded. There were several people perched on leather-topped stools at the bar and a few couples in the chrome and leather booths along the walls, under various species of stuffed and mounted game fish.

I saw her right away, and without hesitation headed for the booth she was sitting in, knowing instinctively that this was what I'd been searching for.

"Hello there!" Fanny Loman smiled.

"Hi. Can I join you?"

"Of course. I hate drinking alone."

I moved in opposite her. I knew immediately she had a pretty good buzz on. You get to where you can tell those things without knowing exactly how. Maybe it was something different about her dark eyes, or her smile, or the slight movement of her olive hands as she fingered the Martini before her.

Anyway, I was glad of it; I hoped she was plastered to the gills. Maybe, for once, I'd find her with most of her barriers down. It was an enticing thought.

"Waiting for somebody?" I asked.

She sipped her drink and her eyes grinned over the rim of the glass. That light was in them, that strange glow of the dancing devils, that compelling, fascinating glint of unfathomable mischief.

"I hadn't thought I was," she said. "But now that you're here, perhaps I was without realizing it. Do you know what I mean?"

I nodded, feeling a flush of excitement.

A blonde waitress in black satin slacks and white satin blouse came and took my order for bourbon on the rocks.

"And make it a double," I said.

We watched her go.

"She has a cute figure," Fanny said.

"Nothing that could come close to touching you."

"Now, Dyke, you're kidding."

"Like hell I am. You know better. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. You know perfectly well that's how I feel about you, so why beat around the bush about it?"

She laughed and patted my hand. "It's fun to hear you say it." She smiled as I caught the tips of her fingers and held them. "You're so passionately intense!"

"It's the way I feel about you."

She laughed again, quietly, like a kitten's gurgling purr.

"Tell me more," she whispered. "I find you Very interesting."

"I wish to hell I could get my feelings across to you."

"Maybe you can."

"Tell me how."

"Just keep trying."

"You want me to beg? That what you want me to do?"

She smiled, sensually, and moved her fingers inside my palm. "Could bel Would you really beg a woman, Dyke? You don't seem the kind who'd bend that much."

"I'd beg you," I said. "I'd do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"That's right. I'd get down on my knees to you right here if I knew it'd do me any good."

She kept watching my eyes. How the dancing devils were laughing in hers!

Funny, I thought, what a man can bring himself to say when be has a few shots of booze inside him, making easy his efforts to express his true feelings. Sober, a guy might not have nerve enough to say the things he felt and wanted to say. But I wasn't exactly sober; and I had plenty to get off my chest.

I also wanted to know the lay of the land, as far as my chances were for tonight. I wondered about her husband.

"Where's Gus?" I asked.

She looked up, and an expression of utter disgust made her shudder visibly, as the emotion swept completely over her.

"Why do you have to mention that drunken slob!"

I felt the viciousness of her tone and was surprised.

"Sorry, Fanny honey. I didn't realize he was such a sore spot with you."

"I hate him!" she said. "I dispise him! He makes me sick to my stomach!"

I kept listening to her rave. Now that she'd commenced, she seemed bent on cleansing her soul of the venom that mention of his name had inspired. I didn't know what to make of it. The shock of hearing her carry on this way had been so unexpected. Not that I was sorry to hear that she hated Gus Loman. It was more of a happy revelation as far as I was concerned.

"My flesh crawls every time he gets near me!" Fanny went on. "Dirt and drunkenness! That's all he is!"

After awhile she calmed down.

"What you need is another drink," I said, grinning.

"I need more than that! I need-oh, I don't know what I need!" she finished with an exasperated fling of her dark head.

I motioned for the blonde waitress to bring us two more of the same, and she did.

"Why don't you leave him?"

She made a dry laugh. "It's not quite that simple," she said.

"No? Why not?"

"Money, Dyke. Just plain old money. Does that sound crazy?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe not."

"I'm used to money, Dyke. And luxury, the things money can buy. If I left Gus I wouldn't come out with enough to support myself for ninety days, the reason being that I have no legitimate grounds for divorce which I could prove."

"Which you could prove? I don't follow you."

"Because of Flick Sills and Ginger Gaines. They both work for Gus. Gus knows I want to leave him, so he keeps them close by all the time. Either of them will swear to anything he instructs them to. So what chance would I ever have in the courts?"

"I'm beginning to see the light."

"Sure, that's the way it is. Gus could kick me out any time he wanted. He could tell Flick and Ginger to swear I played around on him and they would."

"How about your own friends? Wouldn't they come to your aid?"

"My friends? That's a laugh. I have no friends. Gus won't allow it. The only people I'm allowed to associate with are his friends, and most of them are indebted to him one way or other."

I nodded. "You're in a rough spot. But actually you could leave him. Money isn't worth it, putting up with someone you hate, at least not the way I see it."

"You just don't know. I've put up with that pig far too long to just walk out without a dime. I could, but I won't."

"What's the answer, then?"

"I wish I knew." The breath kind of went out of her then, as though her spirit had deflated into a vacuum of utter misery.

Watching her crumble like this, I suddenly felt a great wad of hate growing in my craw for Gus Loman.

"He won't even help me to be an actress," she said. "And he could make that possible so easily. But do you think he'd give me that much? Not him! He's afraid I'd succeed and leave him. He knows I can act, too, because his hobby is producing plays ... he's helped put over many of his friends with his influence and money, but he insists I have no talent at all. It's curel. Acting talent is really the only thing of worth I do have ... and that greedy pig won't let me prove it!"

I didn't quite understand her, nor could I fathom her reasons for not walking out on her husband. But I did understand one thing very clearly now. I loved her. I loved Fanny Loman. I loved her with everything there was in me to love with. It was unreasonable, and even kind of crazy, but there it was. I loved her. And I didn't need any more reason than that.

After awhile, she lifted her drink and sipped it, searching my face over the rim, a smile returning to her lips.

"Dyke...."

"Yes?"

"You love me very much, don't you?"

"Is it that plain, Fanny? Is it actually written on my face so clearly you can see it?"

"I can see it, Dyke. And I like what I see."

"So where does it lead us, sweetheart?"

"Is there any place we can find to be alone?"

"My room at the hotel. We wouldn't be bothered."

She shook her head, and the devils began to dance in her eyes once again.

"Not there. It's too risky. Think of something else."

The vision of her loveliness was suddenly overwhelming. Her olive skin glowed with lusciousness, causing a dryness to envelop my throat. Her red lips and dark eyes laughed silently. Could she hear the rampant pounding of my heart against the walls of my ribs?

My brain reeled, trying hellishly to get in focus....

CHAPTER NINE

I carried her sandals, because she said she liked the fresh cool feel of the wet sand under her feet. I also carried the beach blanket and bottle of booze which I'd slipped into the hotel and gotten while she'd waited outside for me.

Fanny laughed gaily and scampered ankle-deep into the waves which slid gently and silently over the sands like a soothing ointment. She carried the hem of her skirt high, like a kid, and the way moonlight danced and flashed on her wet legs tugged at the deep yearning inside me.

She was still pretty high, happily flushed with the uninhibited glow of intoxication. So was I, and the promise of the moment, the delirious anticipation! felt, was almost beyond endurance.

She was so damned beautiful. It's almost a crime, thought happily, for a woman so desirable to be created. I could hardly wait to take her beauty in my arms.

"This is far enough," I suggested several times. But she only laughed.

"Not yet! We've got to go until there's nothing but beach and privacy. No houses. No people, and no chance of people. Just us and nothing else!" She danced in close and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me with her laughing open mouth. Then she threw her head back and said: "Brother ... what I'm going to do to you! I feel so wild tonight! So terribly wild!"

Whether she knew it or not, with the lingering taste of her mouth still in my blood, I was getting wild myself.

We went on, she walking beside me now, running her hand up and down the bare flesh of my arm, torturing me with the touch of her hips against my own. I fought down the urge to stop right there and tear the clothes from that taunting body and ravish her until my soul was satisfied. But I somehow managed to hold on.

After an eternity of moments we reached an utterly desolate stretch of moon-silvered sand and water.

"This is as far as I go," I said.

Fanny gave my arm a pinching squeeze, and didn't object. I trembled with excitement as I commenced spreading the terrycloth beach blanket, dropped her shoes and the bottle of bourbon beside it. Then I stretched out on it, and turned to look up at her. She smiled down at me.

I held up my hand. "Come to papa...."

Instead, her fingers did something to the waist of her skirt, and then I was watching her with throbbing heart as she slowly unwound the material from her hips and thighs, leaving only the brief outline of sheer panties.

I sucked in my breath. "You're the most gorgeous woman in the world," I gasped.

Suddenly she laughed and flung the skirt in my face. A button of it stung my cheek. I quickly struck it aside, as I couldn't stand the thought of anything obstructing my vision of her.

Fanny giggled with delight.

"That," she said, "is supposed to excite any man."

"I'm bursting with excitement already, don't worry about that. Come here, I'll prove it."

But she didn't come to me. She unbuttoned her blouse and let it slip down her arms to fall soundlessly in the sand about her feet. There was no brassiere.

She stood there, languidly, letting the moonlight suffuse her skin with voluptuous loveliness.

I swallowed. A small laugh escaped her lips.

"Come here. I can't stand any more," I said.

"Take a drink from the bottle, Dyke." It was like a command.

"I don't want a drink. I want you."

"Make it a big drink. A big big one."

"Why? I don't want one. Tell you what, come here, we'll have one together."

"Not me, just you. I want you to get good and drunk and addled."

"What the hell for?"

She giggled again, and ran the fingers of one hand sensually over her own body.

"For any inhibitions you might have," she purred. "I want to kill the tiniest one you may have."

The pulse in my temples commenced to pound.

"I wouldn't have any-not where you're concerned."

"Take a drink, Dyke. I won't let you touch me if you don't. I'll leave...."

"Okay I'll have a snort. Don't talk about leaving!"

I opened the bourbon and turned it up. The liquid burned harshly against the dry surface of my throat. Then she came and knelt beside me, holding the bottle to my mouth, laughing, forcing me to swallow or choke.

"More! Drink more!"

I twisted away, jerking the bottle from her hands. "That's enough. Any more and I'll be stone!" I set the bourbon aside.

I didn't quite understand. I looked at her kneeling on the blanket beside me. There was a highly amused grin on her face as she watched my discomfort. The dancing devils in her eyes were having a time.

She was a glorious thing to behold. With the moonlight splashing her wonderful skin with silver, with her tilted breasts so firmly silhouetted, her mouth parted, her eyes teasing, a man could go stark raving mad just seeing her.

The booze hit bottom, and I felt its hot glow wash over me. Strange thing about booze in the blood. It makes everything better: Beauty more beautiful. Fascination more fascinating. Lust more lustful. As the alcohol continued to spread its hypnotic essence through the network of my blood stream, her body became the most desirable prize of my wildest dreams. She absolutely glowed with lusciousness.

"You could very easily drive me out of my mind," I told her huskily.

"That's what I'm trying to do," she giggled. "Didn't you know?"

"It's dawning on me. But you don't have to go any farther with your little game of arousing my senses. I want you so bad now I can taste it. I'm practically dying for you, you must know that."

She touched my cheek lightly with her perfumed fingers. "I want you more than dying for me, Dyke. I want you suffering agony for me. Yes, that's the way I want you-in agony to love me."

"Tell me why."

She trailed her fingers across my mouth to my other cheek. Then she laughed. "Because I feel so wild tonight! So absolutely reckless!"

"That's good. Suits the hell out of me. I been feeling reckless that way all night. So let's get reckless together, what say?"

I shoved up on my arm and kissed the tips of her breasts. Tenderly, reverently, because of their rare, proud arrogance. I trembled in a kind of delirious shock. Fanny giggled a quiet, sensual sound, and I felt her hands softly ruffling the hair line at the nape of my neck.

And that's when I went haywire and began fighting for those ridiculous brief panties while she laughingly held onto them after clutching them tightly on either side of her hips. She was driving me into a state of desperate frustration in my anxiety to possess all of her tempting, glorious body.

In the end I had to rip them to shreds and tear them angrily away. When I did that she relaxed, lying there on her back, still grinning up at me, her breasts rising and falling with the fury of our struggle.

I whispered hoarsely, "Now ... damn you!"

She reached up and touched my mouth.

"I'm yours, Dyke. My body is yours. My mouth and arms and my breasts and my hips and my legs are yours. All yours. Take what you wish of me ... "

I took plenty.

It required a couple of hours to get my fill of her. But those two hours were a lifetime of ecstasy without inhibitions-without inhibitions of any kind.

Her body held that wild magnetic mystery which hypnotizes a man, blinding his senses with the frantic compulsion to seek her in many ways ... all of them soul consuming.

I took another slug of the bourbon, and we lay there on the blanket, smoking, gazing up into the ambered moon and star studded sky.

"You were wonderful," I said. "More than that; glorious."

"So were you, darling."

It was the first time she'd called me that.

"I love you, Fanny."

"I love you too, Dyke."

"Leave Gus and marry me."

"It wouldn't work."

"Maybe it would. We'd make it work."

"No. I'm crazy, Dyke. Or overly selfish, perhaps. But I love money. I can't live without it. I was raised in poverty. I hated it. From the time I was old enough to think for myself I swore I'd never know poverty again. I haven't. And I won't. Does that sound insane?"

"Not necessarily. But I'm sure I could find a better job than I have now. We wouldn't be rich, but we'd make out okay. I'd take good care of you. At least we'd be together."

She turned and kissed my cheek.

"Thank you for wanting me, darling. Thank you for wanting to work for me. Don't think I'm not grateful."

"But no dice, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"I refuse to be poor again, Dyke. I'd rather die first. It's as simple as that."

I could sense a sadness in her voice. I felt a deep sadness myself. But I knew that she meant what she said. You come to know there are people in the world like Fanny Loman. Fanny desperately needed and wanted love, but fear of insecurity overwhelmed these normal feminine needs. I remembered an elderly man had once remarked to me that most women placed security above love, even though they sometime didn't even realize it themselves. "No matter what they think or say," the old gent told me with a wise twinkle in his eye, "everything a woman ever does she does, one way or other, for security. But you can't blame them for it. It's the nature of the pretty little things."

I suppose the old man had been right. At least his theory was correct in Fanny's case. But one thing about Fanny, she wasn't fooling herself or anybody else on that score. She made no bones about it. The idea that she Wouldn't leave Gus for me deflated my ego, but I guess she was due a certain respect for at least speaking the blunt truth of how she felt.

"Where does that leave us then?" I asked.

"Just in love, Dyke. That's all. We love each other and we'll see each other when we can. Other than that, there's nothing."

"I don't see how I could go on that way. I want you with me always. To love you when I want to love you. I'd hate to think I have to sneak around every time I needed to hold you in my arms."

She smiled and kissed me.

"Let's not talk about it," she said softly. "We'll only have a few more days together anyway. Let's not spoil them."

I glanced at her. "A few more days? What do you mean?"

"The Seven Seas will be leaving soon. I heard Gus mention it. We can't stay forever, you know."

Until then I hadn't given that angle a thought. Now the information hit me a stunning blow deep in the pit of my stomach. I felt I couldn't live if I couldn't have Fanny Loman. And the departure of the Seven Seas would spell the end to my life.

I grabbed and kissed her roughly, hungrily.

"I can't let you leave me ... I won't!" She gave me no encouragement.

"That's the way it is, darling. We simply have to face it. Until then, though, we can have our secret moments together, wonderful moments in which to make memories."

"I don't want memories! I want you!" She laughed and kissed away my protests, her mouth open and sweet against my own. She pressed her naked body against me and continued to kiss me, until after awhile, she had me blind again with desire and I was crushing her to me, our hips enjoined, our legs entwined, our mouths seeking, our hearts pounding like loud pulsating sledgehammers in the wild demands of our love.

"I love you," I whispered when I could. "Oh God, I love you, I love you, I love you!" Only her wild kisses could silence me.

CHAPTER TEN

Flick Sills came strolling up the beach about ten the next morning. I was curious about him but I didn't particularly want to see him just now. I wasn't in the mood. My thoughts were filled with Fanny Loman. I had to figure a way to keep her here after the Seven Seas departed. I'd go nuts without her around, I knew that much. Somehow I had to convince her to leave her husband.

I glanced up as Flick approached. I was sitting on the sand at the foot of the tower, in the spot of shade it afforded. I pegged Flick as being in a pretty foul mood. His tanned face revealed a tensed, angry expression.

"Morning," I said when he stopped and stood spread-legged before me, glaring.

"I want to know what you think you're up too, mister. I want to know your angle."

I squinted. "Angle? I don't follow you, boy."

"The hell you don't!"

"You tell me," I said.

"You trying to make Fanny Loman?"

"That's a hell of a question."

"I want to know!"

"What business is it of yours?" I snorted. "Even if I was, which I'm not, I don't see how you'd have a damned thing to say about it one way or other. You don't own her, do you?"

"No, I don't own her. But Gus Loman does. And he happens to be my boss and a friend of mine. I look after his interests. So you got any whims about coming between him and his wife, you forget it, hear? I got big trouble waiting for the man who tries to take Fanny Loman away from Gus."

I made a small grin. "From Gus or from you? Couldn't be that your jealousy is showing, huh?"

He reddened. "Just what's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you're stuck on her yourself?" I suggested.

This really got to the big guy. The cat-like muscles of his biceps tightened. The color commenced to fade from the skin over his cheek bones.

"You sonofabitch! I oughta kill you for saying that! You got a lousy way of seeing things!"

"No different from yours," I told him. "You've accused me of trying to make her. You think that about every man she meets?"

"No, just bastards like you," he sneered.

"And why am I any different?"

"I was on deck when you brought her back to the boat after three in the morning. I saw you kiss her. It didn't look like a brother-sister act. What had you two been doing all night together-playing tiddly-winks?"

"Dominoes," I said.

"Smart bastard, aren't you?"

"Maybe. Say, what do you do, stay up just to check her in and out? You her keeper or something?"

"Try that again, you'll find out damned quick."

I lit a cigarette. There wasn't any shade where he was standing. He was dampish with a sheen of sweat. I wondered how much man he really was. He looked tough enough. But, remembering his meek attitude in the presence of Gus Loman and Fanny, he could very easily be nothing more than a big pile of bluff.

"How about the redhead? Ginger? You keep a check on her too?"

"I got nothing to do with her. She's single. She's no worry of mine."

"Don't make me laugh. I've already seep what happens when you find her with another man. Who you trying to kid, brother Flick? You're jealous over both those beautiful gals, Ginger and Fanny. So why don't you drop the self-righteous act? It doesn't become you. You don't fool me for a minute, boy."

He kind of went to pieces then. His jaw muscles tightened as he gritted his teeth. He stared down at me with pure murder in his anger-brightened eyes. Then he trembled apart at the seams.

"Damn you-!" He took a quick step nearer.

I tried to turn my face, but was an instant too slow. The sudden spray of sand kicked up by his foot caught me square in the eyes.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I yelped, rolling away in stinging blindness. "I can't see!"

Then he was all around me, growling like an animal, kicking and stomping, hopping from one side of me to the other. I tried to rise and flail out, cursing, only to be knocked back to the sand. I grabbed up handfuls of the stuff and flung it wildly, hoping desperately to find a mark. No luck. Then he was laughing evilly and pounding on me. His big fists were merciless. A sledgehammer blow under my chin nearly flipped me into a complete somersault. I landed heavily on my back and shoulders with a jolt that left me windless.

I was crying with rage and helplessness.

"Smart bastards like you got it coming!" he gritted.

I tore at my burning stinging eyes. The grit felt like it was scratching them to shreds. All I could see was a vague pale shimmering of light, and even that hurt.

I heard a woman's shrill scream: "Stop that, you're killing that man!"

A man's voice: "Grab the big guy before it's murder!"

My head rocked again from another uppercut, a vicious, teeth-rattling, brain-jarring slam.

The shimmering sun went out. The voices I'd been hearing ceased to be. There was a bright red dervish of fire whirling very rapidly inside my skull. It grew in velocity until my brain exploded and then there was nothing more.

I had to keep the shades drawn in my room to keep down the glare. It had taken a doctor to extract the sand from my eyes. He'd left me a soothing lotion with which to keep them washed. Otherwise I wasn't bad hurt. Sore as all hell, but not really hurt. Except in my craw. Flick Sills was still digging away down there inside my craw, festering my system like a poisoned, pus-inflamed sore.

I lay across the bed, squinting at the ceiling through narrowed lids to help keep out the light, smoking a cigarette and being careful the stinging smoke didn't float into my eyes. And hating Flick Sills.

I'd get him. Damn right I'd get him. If I never did another thing in my life, I'd get that guy. It was something that simply had to be.

I'd have had no gripe if he'd whipped me fair and square. That kind of licking I can take. That kind, I can laugh off later, and tell myself you can't whip 'em all.

But Flick Sills had done it the dirty way. I hadn't had a chance. That kind of foul licking you can't toss off with a laugh. You gotta do something about it. Until you do, it'll haunt your guts and wake you up in the middle of the night. You gotta even the score. It'll drive you nuts if you don't.

I hung around the room licking my wounds for most of the day. When it came time to meet Fanny the puffiness and soreness of my face and eyes had mostly quieted down. I figured I could make it okay. A few hours will do a lot. Earlier I'd guessed I'd surely be laid up for at least forty-eight hours. But human tissue must be pretty tough and fast-healing after all.

* * *

I waited at the pool for about forty minutes before she arrived. She seemed nervous and upset, but she was as beautiful as ever in her red Bikini. I immediately felt a glow of desire suffuse my bloodstream.

We had the place to ourselves.

"You're running kind of late today." I took her hand and helped her off the cement edge of the pool into the water. I wanted to take her luscious forrr in my arms right then, but the cloudy expression of her dark eyes caused me to hesitate.

"I'm going to kill him!" she hissed.

"Kill who?"

"Gus. Damn his soul, I can't stand being married to him another minute." She glanced at my face. "Dyke, I swear I'm going to kill that man. I swear it, you understand!"

"Hey, calm down, honey. He's done something to you, and you're mad. Tell me about it. You'll feel better."

"It's positively sickening!" she said.

"What's happened?" We were waist deep in the pool and I took hold of her arms and made her face me.

"He wasn't going to let me meet you for the lesson today. I had to slip away after he got pie-eyed on liquor and dozed off."

I found myself wondering if Flick Sills had been telling Gus Loman things.

"What excuse did he give for not wanting you to come?"

"He said you and Flick fought over me, and that there must be something between us. He said I wasn't to take any more swimming lessons from you ... or anybody else for that matter."

"So Flick told him," I murmured.

"I don't think so. I think it was Ginger Gaines who told him. I asked Flick and he swears he didn't tell Gus anything, and doesn't know how he found out."

"Well, I suppose it could have been her. She probably heard all about it and carried the tale to Gus. What is she, a natural born troublemaker or something?"

Fanny nodded with a display of disgust. "That redheaded stenographer of his thrives on trouble."

"Why the hell does he keep her around, other than to spy on you? Couldn't he hire some other babe just as well?"

Fanny made a short laugh.

"He could but he won't. That sexy little redhead fascinates him. He doesn't love her or anything like that, but I can assure you she takes more from Gus than simple dictation."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Of course I am. I know Gus. He's a greedy pig. And I know what he pays her. He could hire a dozen excellent stenographers for that amount. I even made a remark to her one day about it when I was in a nasty mood. She laughed insolently and told me that Gus paid her well for her services. She didn't admit any romantic affairs with him in so many words, but the way she said it left little or no room for doubt. She seemed to gloat over the fact that she upset me. She's a vicious little beast! I hate her!"

"Look, honey, money isn't everything. Why don't you crawl out of that whole mess? Leave Gus and marry me. We'll make it okay. I'll love you enough to make up for the money we might never have. You're just afraid, that's all. Take a chance with me. I promise you I'll make you happy."

"Never!" she said. "He's going to pay me for the long horrible years I've put up with him and his insults! I tell you, Dyke, I'm going to kill him. I mean it. You may think I'm just mad and talking silly, but I've made up my mind. Somehow I'm going to kill him, and then I'll have all his money! It's the only way I'll settle. You can believe that or not!"

"You're joking. You can't really mean it."

"I do mean it, I swear I do."

The water was cool on the lower part of my body, but I felt hot excitement crawling along my legs upward toward my chest.

"Suppose you did, and suppose you managed to get away with it? What then?"

She suddenly threw her arms around my neck, pushed her body hard against me, and, like a hungry little animal, kissed me with wild abandonment.

"You and I would get married!" she cried. "What else? I love you, Dyke. Surely you must know that by now! How could you fail to know? I've already given you everything I have to give. And now I'm ready to kill my husband so that we can be together always! What more do you want?"

I gasped at this sudden outburst, and held her tightly to me, but I was flustered as all happy hell.

"But sweetheart, you don't have to kill anybody. It's too dangerous. You'd never get away with it. It's so very simple. Just walk out on Gus and we'll leave on the next train. It's that easy."

"I want both you and Gus's money. Think what that would mean to us, Dyke! We'd even own the Seven Seas. We'd fire Ginger and Flick and hire somebody to take their places and you and I could go anywhere we wanted. The whole world would be ours, and all time would be ours-time to love each other in. Wouldn't that be a special kind of heaven?"

I had to admit that it certainly would be a special kind of heaven. And, holding her resilent form against my throbbing own, I was beginning to picture Gus Loman as a dead slob lying out on a hard cold marble slab.

I caught her lips up in my own.

"Such a chance for happiness is worth any kind of risk," I admitted.

"Then you'd help me, Dyke? We could work out something together. I know we could. We could make it look like some kind of accident, something like that. You know how drunk he gets, and any kind of accident happening to a man who is known to get petrified drunk can be made to seem and appear logical."

I brushed my lips across her perfumed cheek. "Yes, I suppose it could. The whole thing has possibilities, that's for sure."

"We'll have to think of something pretty quick," she told me. "There's not much time left before we're pulling out. It has to happen before then."

"That's right," I murmured, still dazed at this new turn of events. "Do you have any ideas at all?"

"I certainly have. It's been on my mind constantly the last few days. I've thought of one way I think is foolproof."

"Tell me about it," I said.

"Let's sit on the edge of the pool and have a cigarette while we talk."

"Come on."

I lifted her onto the cement ledge where we'd left the cigarettes. I wrung the water off my hands and got us both a cigarette going. Her fingers were trembling slightly.

"You've noticed how Gus, and all of us for that matter, drink on the sun deck in the late afternoon?" I nodded.

"Well, Gus sits right there and keeps on gulping down liquor until he's passed out. Nobody bothers him. He stays there sometimes until almost morning, almost daylight before he finally snaps out of it and comes into the cabin to bed."

"I follow you."

She dropped her hand to my wrist. "Well, suppose that while he was in that condition, alone and late at night, he awoke and stumbled around looking for another drink? Wouldn't it be a simple thing for him to fall over that low railing and drown without anyone there to pull him out? Wouldn't anybody who knows Gus figure that that's what happened?"

"Could be," I agreed.

"Yes, it could happen that way and no one would doubt it."

"How are you going to know he'd fall?"

"He'd have to be helped to fall. What else?"

A brief shiver went over me. I'd done a lot of things in my time, things I'd never want to talk about, but the idea of murdering a guy came as a new and alien experience.

"Who's to help him fall? Me?"

Already the cold finger of fear was beginning to touch me. I was to be the one to carry the load, and I could see it coming. But she surprised me.

"No, of course not. You wouldn't even be there on deck. It would look too suspicious like that. No, I'd be the logical one to pull that off. It'd be easy. I'd manage to get him to his feet and, in his stupefied condition, get him to the railing and shove him over it into the water."

I heaved a sigh of relief.

"There's one thing," I said. "Suppose the water sobered him enough so that he could swim?"

She pinched my arm and smiled, a bit wickedly.

"With an expert swimmer like you waiting down there in the water beside the boat to make sure he doesn't swim?"

I swallowed hard. She had figured the angles all right enough.

"It's all so simple," she went on rapidly. "Look, we set a time for it to happen-like maybe one or two in the morning, when he's always plastered and limber as a rag. You swim out from the beach in the darkness so no one could possibly see you anywhere on the pier leading out to the boat, so you couldn't be placed even remotely connected with the boat. When you've swum alongside and I know you're down there waiting, I maneuver him to the railing and shove him overboard. Don't worry, I can manage that, with no trouble whatever, knowing Gus as I do. See? You're waiting down there in the water to make absolutely certain he does drown. After that, you swim back to the beach, return to your room and go to bed. Gus won't be missed until next day, and when his body washes ashore it'll be a very simple thing to suggest that an accident had brought on his death, that he'd gotten drunk and fallen overboard in a drunken stupor. That's the way it'd pop into anybody's head immediately, believe me."

I sighed heavily.

"Yes, it would work that way."

"Of course it would. Why even Flick and Ginger would be forced to admit that it was the only way Gus could have drowned-falling overboard drunk and drowning. They'd never doubt it for a minute!"

"When do we pull it off?"

"Right away. We'll have to, because Gus is getting itchy to leave Eastland Beach. Then it'd be too late."

"Tonight?"

"No. Tomorrow night will be soon enough. We need a little time for the plan to sink in. You keep thinking about it in the meantime. See if you can find anything wrong with it. Anything which might stand in the way. Then we'll go ahead with it tomorrow night."

I looked at her, and her face was alight with a strange and exciting beauty, and the devils pranced and turned somersaults in the depths of her dark eyes, and her poignant breasts rose and fell in a vision of sensual delights. Hypnotized, I crushed my face into their maddening swell. I could feel her heart beating hotly against my teeth.

After tomorrow night this glorious creature would be mine, all mine. Hell, I'd help knock off a whole regiment of men to own her. That's the way she affected me. No risk, no crime committed, would be half enough to pay for her. I'd do anything for her. Absolutely and positively anything she asked of me.

I kept kissing her and my hands played over her body, her heavenly thighs, and as hot blood poured through my veins I realized the awful, terrible need I had for her.

"Not now," she said, stroking the back of my neck. "We must talk and plan some more, get every detail clear in our minds. But after tomorrow night, we'll have all the time in the world for this...."

The promise in her voice was enough to drive a man crazy.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Sandy Martin came into the grill where I was having a sandwich at dinner time. I hadn't wanted to see her. We'd broken off and I figured it was better that way, especially for her. I didn't love her, but I didn't want to hurt her any more than necessary, either.

Her face was strained and she wore a smile of embarrassment as she came over to the table where I was sitting.

"Dyke...."

"Hi, Sandy," I said, standing, sliding the chair back. "Have a sandwich or drink or something?"

She perched opposite. "I only have a second, Dyke, then I have to get back to the main dining room and take care of the customers. Just wanted to see you a minute, that's all."

"Sure, honey, what's on your mind?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Could we meet out on the verandah in about an hour?"

I avoided her concerned blue eyes, and sent my mind racing for some kind of an excuse. I had an idea that she wanted to make up with me for the other night, and I didn't want to make up with her for her own sake.

"Gosh, honey, I wish I could. But I promised someone I'd meet them up on the main drag for a few drinks."

She flushed a bit. "The redhead?"

I decided to let her think what she wished, so I didn't answer that.

"Can't you tell me now what's on your mind?"

She dropped her eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Dyke. Some other time will do just as well. I just wanted the chance to tell you I was sorry."

"Sorry?"

"About losing my temper and telling you I didn't want to see you any more." She laughed briefly. "I guess I was jealous. And, you know, a jealous girl can get terribly upset. I had no right to feel you shouldn't see other girls, and I shouldn't have gotten sore at you over that darned redhead. After all, you and I are not married, and I suppose I was acting too much like a wife. Anyway, I wanted you to know I'm not mad at you, Dyke. I've been like a silly fool ... "

It was hard for me to force the laugh, but I got it out. "Good, honeybunch!" I said, beaming. "I'm glad to hear that, 'cause this old boy sure doesn't like to have any enemies left over from a romantic affair. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth, doesn't it?"

The color drained from her cheeks. "Romantic affair? ... Is that all it meant to you, Dyke?"

I reached across and patted her hand. "Sure! And you're not kidding me, that's all it's meant to you too, isn't it? Beach time is fun time, sugar. You know that. Anything goes. Wild plans ... wild promises ... they all fade away at the end of the summer heat." I squeezed her fingers.

She jerked her hand away from nine and stood shakily.

"Yes, I suppose you're right!" Her eyes were filled with anger and hurt. "And we certainly had us a real ball, didn't we, Dyke!"

"Man-O-man!" I grinned up at her. "A ball I'll never forget, Sandy babe. Hey, come on, sit down and have a beer at least. I got a few more minutes to spare."

She couldn't speak. There was a powerful loathing in her gaze, and a kind of flustered confusion.

"No, I must get out of here," she said, and headed stiffly toward the exit into the lobby.

Watching her go, I felt something hot and sharp twist around in my belly, like it does when you know you've hurt someone where it really hurts.

But I had to break off with her for good. And a clean break is better than a slow jagged one. I pushed my unfinished sandwich away and lit a cigarette. I wasn't hungry any more. I felt more like gagging than eating.

I returned to my room and sat with my feet propped on the windowsill. I needed to think. This thing with Fanny Loman had to have a hell of a lot of thought, with so little time left.

I lit a cigarette and blew smoke toward the open window. I hadn't turned on the lights, and it was getting dark outside. The days are long this time of year. Long and hot and steamy. I shook my head. Stop trying to avoid it, Dyke. You got to think about it. Can't get cold feet and back out now.

I thought about Fanny Loman again, her beauty, her fantastic fatal charm, and I didn't want to back out. Sure I'd go through with it. I'd help her knock off her husband. I was willing to take the chance. With any other girl I wouldn't have given the idea a second thought. But with Fanny, or FOR Fanny, I'd risk anything, my neck or anything else I had to risk. She was that way with me. I had to have her, own every glorious inch of her for now and always. And getting rid of Gus Loman once and for all was the only way to accomplish that.

But one other thing kept nagging at me, getting at me in a kind of sickening way. I didn't hate Gus Loman. I didn't particularly like him but I didn't hate him either. It's much easier to hurt a man, kill a man, I figured, if you had a reason to hate his guts. You wouldn't feel so sick about it then. It's not so hard to hurt someone you hate.

He'd given me no reason, though. The only thing I had against him was the fact that he was Fanny's husband and had a pile of dough and stood in the way of my having her. That's a reason, of course, but not enough. I wished to hell he'd done me some kind of real injury, some dirty, underhanded, purposeful injury. That would make it a lot easier.

Tomorrow night. She said it had to come off tomorrow night. I went through the details again in my mind. I was to be alongside the Seven Seas at exactly three o'clock in the morning. Gus would be drunk, Flick Sills and Ginger Gaines asleep in their cabins. Fanny would manage to stumble Gus overboard into the water. I'd make damn sure he drowned. Then I'd swim back to shore, enter the hotel via the back stairs so as not to be seen, and go to bed.

Simple enough, I thought. Nothing wrong with that. I couldn't see any loopholes in it anywhere. Sure, the beauty of the whole plan lay in its utter simplicity. Fanny had been a genius to figure it that way.

It was cooler when I left the hotel and went to the main strip to Nick's. My brain was churning around inside my skull and I figured maybe a few snorts would calm it down. Nick was getting busy as hell behind his bar. The joint was half full of people.

"Double over the rocks," I told him.

He fixed it for me, and took time enough to say, "Why you looking so glum, chum? Cheer up. Whatever it is, it can't be half that bad."

"The hell it can't be," I snapped back. The way he always managed to irritate me, I don't know why I bothered to come in his place and spend my dough. "Don't start riding me tonight, Nick, I'm not in the mood for it."

He grinned. "Just doing my job," he winked. "A good bartender is supposed to try to cheer the suckers, and you looked like you needed a hell of a lot of cheering, that's all. No offense, chum."

"Just be sure to pour me the good booze instead of your usual watered-down rot, that's all the cheering I need from ,you."

He flushed angrily and turned away, and I could have kicked myself for saying that to him. It hadn't been necessary. But damn it, why did he always have to say something to get under my skin? Aw, to hell with him.

I nursed the bourbon, brooding to myself.

I thought of going to the Seven Seas and having it out with Gus Loman and then forcing Fanny to leave with me, but I knew that wouldn't work. She was crazy for his money and she wouldn't leave without it. I had come to realize that money and luxury were Fanny's first loves, and that I had to settle for second place in her desires. That wasn't good but there was nothing I could do about it. The fact that she was this way I simply had to accept. And in a way she was right. She was the kind of beautiful woman that money was minted for in the first place. She'd be naked without it, miserable. No matter how much Fanny loved a man, she was the kind who would never be happy if the guy wasn't loaded. She herself was beautiful and meant for the beautiful things money could buy. One without the other was nothing as far as she was concerned.

The churning inside my skull refused to calm down. I left Nick's and walked back to the beach, to the quietness of the sand by the water's quietly flapping edge. I sat and smoked and stared over the dark horizon. Far out to sea tiny lights from an incoming vessel glowed and twittered like a small close-packed galaxy of midget stars.

To the right, alongside the pier, I could make out the dim hulk of the Seven Seas. She displayed a few lights from her portholes. I found myself wondering just what her compliment of four mixed-up people were doing right then.

CHAPTER TWELVE

When I returned to the hotel, dreading to go inside with my turbulent thoughts, I found Ginger Gaines waiting for me inside the lobby.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she said, smiling and sliding out of the chair beside the entrance. She came and took my arm. She was in yellow slacks and white slipover blouse, and her red hair set it all off like a million.

I grinned at her. I hadn't really wanted to run into her, or anybody else for that matter. Somehow I wasn't in the mood for company. But now that she was here swarming all over me, I couldn't help feeling better about it. Until now I'd had a kind of lost feeling. Ginger's presence helped ease it a bit.

"If I'd known a good-looking babe like you was trying to find me I'd have made myself easier to find," I told her. "Any special reason you were after me?"

We walked outside onto the verandah, stood at the top of the wide steps which led down in the direction of the beach.

Her fingers dug lightly into the muscle of my arm.

"You bet I had a reason."

"What's on your devilish little mind?"

She laughed, and let her hand drop from my arm to my hand and I squeezed her fingers.

"Just a great big lot of nothing," she said.

"That's reason enough," I agreed.

"It's such an exciting night," she said, gazing at the ocean. "And it Was so dull on the Seven Seas I couldn't stand it any longer. So ... I decided to come see if I couldn't find you and stir up something interesting."

"Good deal. I was kind of bored myself tonight."

"Let's do something real corny, Dyke."

"Okay. Like what?"

"Oh, let's just walk along the shore holding hands, and stuff like that."

"Suits me." I led her down the steps and in another minute we were strolling along the water's edge, our sandals making squish-squish noises in the sand. The breeze was still sweeping in off the ocean. It felt good, and the salt air smelled a bit twangy and invigorating.

"How come Flick let you get away tonight?" I asked. "Isn't he supposed to be some kind of bodyguard for you girls?"

"He thinks he is, but it doesn't do him much good. I come and go when I please. He raises the devil, but there's nothing much he can do about it."

"No?"

She giggled, and squeezed my hand. "He's mad for me, you know."

"Can't blame him for that. It'd be easy for any guy to go mad for you. You're a luscious hunk of woman, babe, whether you know it or not."

"Oh, I know it all right," she laughed mockingly.

"I'd think he'd try to stop you."

"I can handle him with the greatest of ease," she said. "He turns worm when I tell him to. If I told him to jump off the top of the mast he'd do it. He'd gripe and grumble but he'd do it. He knows better than to try to stop me from doing what I want to do."

"You really got him hooked, huh?"

"Yes, really. He's like a great big worshipping hound dog, and I make him grovel just for kicks."

I thought about that. In my mind I could see the bi guy pleading with her in her cabin, on his knees may be, and she laughing and egging him on. If I hadn't al ready hated the man I could have felt some sadness for him. A guy hooked by a girl like Ginger Gaines could be made to live a life of pure hell if she wanted it that way and got a bang out of it. And Ginger was out for kicks, no doubt about that. She was the kind who thrived on bangs. No telling what kind of things she made the big guy do, having that kind of fatal power over him. I shivered at the thought of several possibilities. All interesting as hell.

"How long have you and Flick known each other?"

"Oh, I've known Flick practically forever. We went to high school together."

"That long?"

"Sure. It seems like he's been following me around all of my life, ever since I was a baby in diapers. When I left high school I went into training as a nurse at a hospital, and Flick managed to get on as an orderly." She laughed, remembering. "I used to date the young interns there, and it nearly drove Flick crazy with jealousy. He was just an orderly and it murdered his ego for me to be going around with the doctors. He tried to go to college and become a doctor himself, but he couldn't make the grade. He never was very smart."

"Did you graduate? From nurses' training, I mean?"

"Oh, sure. But after that I didn't like it. Too many sickening and depressing things you have to do. And those bedpans! Ugh! It wasn't for me. I decided to go, to night school and learn shorthand and typing and try to become a stenographer, which I did, and find me a rich boss to work for, which I also did."

"And Flick has come trotting right along behind you panting all the way, huh?"

"That's right. I even helped him get work on the Seven Seas. He's kind of pathetic, really, and I never have been able to hate him. So I keep him around for kicks. It does something for my female ego to have him for a worshipper. Do you have any idea what I mean?"

"Yeah, I think so. You keep him for a pet." She giggled. "You'd be surprised how he is. He can be raising holy hell with me one minute and kissing my feet and pleading the next. It's very amusing. I can turn him on and off like a light bulb."

"Pretty rough on a guy, aren't you?" She laughed again, a sensuous sound deep in her lovely throat. "It's one way to keep from getting bored."

I wanted to ask her why she didn't try pulling the wings from flies and torturing them with lit matches. But I didn't. Even if she was a mixed-up screwball of a redhead, she was very beautiful and very interesting. There was too much sadism in her makeup. I doubted if she was capable of love. I had an idea she was the kind who liked to maneuver a man to the screaming point of desire and then keep him hanging there while she got her jolts from making him compliment her body in all kinds of imaginable ways.

We walked farther along the shoreline and then we sat in the sand and smoked and stared at the ocean for while and just talked. Finally she leaned hard against me, and ran her fingers over my arm. "Well?" she asked, and nudged me with her chin.

"Well what?"

"Crazy. You know what. I'm available, that's what. It's a lovey-dovey night and I'm in the mood."

I kidded her. "In the mood for what? A swim?"

"Oh, stop it, Dyke. You're trying to make me ask you, and darned if I will!"

"Did you ever try to make love in the sand with no blanket or towel under you? Hell of a mess. You can't escape the sand. No matter how careful you try to be you can't keep it off. Acts just like grit. Aggravating as all hell, and tears you to pieces."

"Sounds exciting!"

"Not to me. I've tried it. No more of that for this boy. Knocks a guy out for a week or more."

She sat up straight. "You mean you don't want me, is that it? Why don't you say it?"

"It's not that exactly."

"Then what is it, exactly?" There was an edge to her tone.

"I told you, the sand. I'm not kidding."

"Oh come off it," she said dismally.

What I'd told her was the truth and she didn't believe me. I didn't care particularly whether she did or didn't. A small part of me wanted to make love with her, but an even larger part rebelled.

I had Fanny Loman deeply implanted in my mind, and the idea that I was going to help her murder her husband; and it's kind of hard to work up romantic emotions when you got things like that buzzing around inside your brain.

Ginger stood up suddenly. "You make me sick, Dyke Donohoe. If you think for one minute I'm going to beg you, you're crazy. I don't need you or anybody that bad. Anyway, you're not so damned hot! I've known better men, plenty of them."

"I don't doubt that," I said. I guess I sounded a bit nasty. I couldn't help it. I was churned up inside. "You want me to walk you back?"

"No thank you!"

She left, and after awhile I buried my cigarette in the sand and headed toward the hotel. I felt lousy as hell.

When I entered the lobby the clerk motioned me over and handed me a message which said that Gus Loman wanted to see me aboard the Seven Seas soon as possible.

"Who brought it?"

"Big brawny guy wearing a mate's cap." Flick Sills, I knew.

I wondered what the devil Gus Loman wanted with me. I had a pretty good idea though. No doubt Flick had told him about seeing Fanny and me kissing the other night, and about how he'd warned me and beat hell out of me. The anger rose sharply at the memory, and my hand touched a sore spot on my face unconsciously. I had a score to settle with that one.

I went outside and down the steps, down the cement walk leading to the beach, and cut directly across the sand toward the pier. I carried a feeling of apprehension, not knowing for certain what Gus wanted to see me about. I hoped he didn't want trouble. I wasn't in the mood for it tonight.

I found them in the usual place, the sun deck back aft. Fanny and Gus and Flick Sills. Fanny and Gus were sitting, each with a drink in his hand. Flick leaned against the brass railing, trying to appear casual but I could feel the tenseness seething inside him. He seemed to kind of hover over the others like an eagle prepared to protect its young.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Loman?"

Gus took a swallow of his drink. He was pretty drunk, and some of it sloshed down his chin and fell on his chest, wetting the T-shirt stretched over his upper torso.

"Yeah, Dyke. How much do I owe you?"

"Owe me?"

He looked impatient, disgusted.

"For the lessons! For the swimming lessons you've been giving my wife!"

"Oh, sure. I don't know. I haven't figured it up yet."

"Well start figuring then."

"She hasn't learned to swim yet."

"Too bad." His voice was a bit sarcastic. "There'll be no more swimming lessons."

"No?"

"No. We're pulling out of here day after tomorrow. You tally up the bill and let me know. I like to pay my obligations."

There was something behind the way he said it.

"You don't owe me anything, Mr. Loman. I haven't done your wife any good. She's too afraid of the water. Maybe in time she could learn to swim. But so far she hasn't."

"I'll pay you anyhow. I don't like for a man to work for nothing."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

"You want a drink?"

"I'll take one."

He snapped his fingers at Flick Sills. "Flick, our guest wants a drink. Fix him one."

Flick's mouth fell open and he stumbled forward a few steps, his face incredible. "You mean you're going to drink with him?"

A dark, sinister grin spread over Gus's face as he glanced at me. "Why not? He's no different from the rest of them, is he? He can't help falling in love with my wife. None of them can."

Fanny snapped, "Shut up, Gus, you're drunk!"

I was shaken. I didn't know what to make of this sudden switch. I stared at Gus.

"What are you getting at, Mr. Loman?"

He gave a short laugh and sloshed the drink at his mouth again, managing to gurgle some of it down his thick throat. His words held an intoxicated slur.

"You beach Casanovas make me sick, Dyke. You think with your rippling muscles and golden suntans you can get any woman who ever lived, don't you?"

I felt a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"I don't follow you, Mr. Loman. If you got something to say, I wish you'd come out with it."

Fanny said, "Don't pay any attention to him, Dyke. He's drunk, and when he's drunk he'll say anything."

Gus said to Flick, "You haven't served our honored guest yet, Flick."

"I don't wait on creeps," snarled the tall guy.

"Forget the drink," I said. "I changed my mind about it."

Fanny stood up. "I'll fix you a drink, Dyke."

When she moved past her husband, he dropped his drink to the deck and lashed out with his huge open palm and sent her reeling. She fell heavily, emitting a high-pitched shriek, and began sobbing.

"You dirty bastard!"I was on my feet and running to her. I lifted her and brought her back and set her in the chair. Then I turned on Gus. "You sonofabitch, even if she is your wife, you got no cause to hit her like that."

"What you going to do about it, Dyke? Protect your sweetheart? Protect the woman you love? Go on, get corny. We need a good laugh around here."

Flick had moved to his side. "Watch your manners," he sneered at me.

I felt like murdering the two of them right that instant. But I decided on only one. Flick. Gus was too drunk. But I had to hit somebody. I just had to. And all day long Flick had been growing in my irritated craw.

He didn't see it coming. I caught him with a vicious upper jab, sinking my fist deep into the vulnerable spot of his solar plexis. I got a tremendous satisfaction watching the quick glaze spread over his eyes following his sudden grunt, like an exclamation of disbelief.

Then he folded and fell forward, flat on his face. I stomped his unconscious face once hard against the deck, heard the crunchy squash of broken nose bones. "Tough man," I whispered down at his inert form.

They were staring at me. Gus tried to rise from the chair. I slapped him back.

"Now wait a minute!" he demanded.

"If you weren't soggy drunk," I warned him, "I'd give you more of the same! You're a miserable tub of lard, Loman!"

Fanny came and caught my hand before I could slap him again.

"That's enough, Dyke. You'd better go now. There's been enough trouble."

She pulled me toward the gang walk which led off onto the pier. Her voice had become a whisper, filled with excitement. "Take it easy, darling. You don't want to upset our plans, do you? Hold onto your temper. You might spoil everything!"

I nodded. She was right. I had almost forgotten that other thing.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said. "I don't know yet how I'll manage it, but I'll get away and see you."

She squeezed my hand, and her fingers were like soft velvet.

I left her and walked stiff-legged along the pier toward the beach. I had everything I needed now: I had reason to hate Gus Loman. That had been the missing link.

I was in a hell of a mood as I went up the hotel steps. I passed Ginger on the verandah. She was coming out of the lobby. I didn't speak to her, as she halted and looked at me with an expectant smile. I walked on as though she hadn't been there. I felt her immediate anger behind me.

"Well ... and to hell with you, too!" she hissed.

I didn't even look back.

Going up the elevator, I had a strong impulse to get off at the floor Sandy's room was on and go in and talk to her. But I didn't, of course. She wouldn't be speaking to me by now, I supposed. Oh, well, it was better that way. Much better for her. Still, I sure would have liked to see her. It was a strange kind of yearning. It left me with a feeling of emptiness somehow.

I thought back to the redhead, Ginger Gaines. I wondered what she had been doing here in the hotel. Probably she and Sandy were on friendly terms again. Maybe they'd agreed that I was too much of a heel for them to squabble over and had decided to resume their friendship.

When I got to my room I went straight to bed, suddenly more exhausted than I'd ever been in my life. I wanted to think awhile there in the darkness, but I couldn't focus my thoughts. I couldn't keep my eyes open.

But this didn't last long. I awoke in a sweat, and almost immediately my mind commenced to work furiously. I glanced at the luminous dial of my wristwatch on the table beside the bed. I'd slept about an hour and a half. The moon had come up real bright now, filling the room with a pale silvery glow. I propped the pillow high under my head and lit a cigarette. The sweat made me feel a little chilly. Or maybe it wasn't the sweat at all. Maybe it was the fear that had been trying to get to me and which I'd kept pushing back.

Well, Dyke, it's not every day you help minder a man!

I couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that I was letting myself be rushed into something I didn't really want to do. I hadn't had enough time to think the plan out. But there just wasn't any time. The Seven Seas would be pulling out, and if Fanny and I didn't go through with it we'd never have another chance. We had to think fast and act fast. There was no other way. I hated to have to do it in a hurry though. It's too dangerous to jump into something as serious as murder in a hurry. The possibility of mistakes warned against it.

I wished to heaven I could talk her out of the idea. There was bound to be some other way for us to be together. I wished to hell the money wasn't so important to her. But that was like wishing on a star-nice wish, but hopeless.

The more I thought of the actual deed the more cold sweat bathed my body. The thought struck me that when the time came I would lose my nerve and find myself unable to go through with it.

Too late to worry about that, I told myself gruffly. I thought of Fanny Loman and her exciting skin and tempting figure and wild, hungry lips.

I had to have her. I'd go through anything, I'd do anything to have her. I'd make it okay.

I didn't close my eyes the rest of the night. Just smoked, just sweated, just kept thinking of Fanny, and once in a while seeing myself out there in the water beside the Seven Seas holding Gus Loman's head under the water to make sure that he couldn't breathe....

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sandy Martin was standing beside two traveling cases on the verandah when I came out next morning on my way down to the lifeguard stand.

She averted her eyes when she saw me, and I started to walk past her without speaking. But curiosity got the better of me. I got the impression she had sent for a taxi and was waiting for it to arrive on the cement parkway beside the hotel. She wasn't dressed for the beach. She looked more like a stenographer leaving for work uptown. Very crisp, very nice.

I turned at the top of the steps.

"Where you off to so early in the morning?"

"I'm leaving. I've quit my job here."

This information set me back a notch.

"Oh? Kind of sudden, wasn't it?"

She wouldn't look me squarely in the face.

"I suppose so. I told the boss about it last night. He said it was okay to leave without the standard two week's notice."

I found myself fumbling for a cigarette, offering her one. She declined.

I frowned at her.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye?"

"Would it have mattered to you?"

"Of course!"

"I hadn't thought it would."

A little anger was getting to me.

"That's a hell of a thing to say. You know damned well I'd want to know if you were leaving here!"

"So now you know."

"Where you heading?"

"I'm going to Florida for awhile. I'll probably work for Uncle Sims down there." Her voice turned a bit sarcastic. "You remember I mentioned my Uncle Sims to you several times?"

"I remember. He's got that small hotel at Vero Beach. We talked of-"

I suddenly knew I'd said the wrong thing, and so did she. A wall of embarrassment loomed between us. I got flustered, not knowing what to say next. Behind us a bellhop came from the lobby. "The taxicab just pulled up at the side, Miss Sandy."

She nodded at him. He picked up her bags and departed with them.

"Well ... goodbye, Dyke. Been nice knowing you."

"So long, Sandy . ... see you around."

"Sure." She left then.

I watched her go, and a sense of loss got going inside me and grew larger and larger.

I walked down the steps and saw the cab pulling from the parking space, with her in it. I impulsively threw up my hand. She saw me. She didn't return my last farewell.

Feeling a strange weakness in the pit of my stomach, I crossed the sand toward the water. My legs had a rubbery sensation. I hadn't realized that seeing Sandy go would come as such a shock. It was just the suddenness of it I suppose. But I kept thinking, Sandy's gone ... Sandy's really gone!

It was a tiresome morning sitting up there on the stand under the big canvas shade. Long and hot and monotonous. The sun was glary bright, and I felt like I was trapped inside a huge steaming oven and couldn't get out. No breeze off the ocean this day. The water was calm and smooth as a sheet of glass, as though given a passive indolence by the hot heavy layer of heat resting upon it.

The shoreline was crowded with people, broiling in the sun. It was hard to understand some of them, those without beach umbrellas, those crazy ones who just lay there calmly baking themselves on the sand with only a pair of sunglasses for protection. How do they stand it? I wondered .

Plenty of them were out there in the water, too. These weren't quite so crazy. At least the water had some coolness left in it.

I found it difficult to keep a protective eye on them. The bright glare off the water was hard on the eyes. Also my brain kept jumping wildly to and fro. Tonight was the night.

A sense of terror persisted in trying to climb my backbone. It was a hell of a feeling. I'd never killed a man. I'd never killed anybody. I'd never even seriously considered it before that I could remember.

I thought about Sandy. She was on the train by now, I guessed. Heading down South. Down south to Florida, to Vero Beach. For a brief moment I felt completely lost, but managed to shake it off. I turned my attention back to Fanny Loman. There was a flesh and blood woman for you. There was nothing a man wouldn't or shouldn't do in order to own a woman like her. Tomorrow she'd be mine. I thought about that for awhile. It was very exciting.

Hunt came and relieved me at two.

"You look sort of melted down, Dyke," he laughed.

"You're not kidding. Hot as hell out here today."

"Anything happening?"

"Not a damned thing."

I climbed down and he climbed up.

"See you," he said.

"Yeah."

I had the sensation of intense loneliness as I entered the hotel, realizing once more that Sandy was no longer there and part of the place. The atmosphere somehow seemed different. I felt her absence acutely.

I caught the elevator and pressed the button indicating the floor of my room. I carried the strange loneliness up with me.

My telephone was ringing and I hurried to answer it. It was Fanny Loman, and her voice was excited.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"At the pay phone down by the pier." She said she was calling to let me know she couldn't get away to see me. "But we'll go ahead tonight as planned. Be sure your watch is on time so it'll come off smoothly. Start swimming out at ten minutes to three in the morning. I'll have him ready."

I felt the chill icing through my bones as she spoke.

"I've been thinking," I said. "What about Flick Sills and Ginger? What's to keep them from waking and catching on to what we're doing? It's really too dangerous, honey. I don't think it's a safe plan."

Her voice calmed to a point of consolation. "Don't worry over that. I promise you they won't interfere. I've taken care of that matter."

"How?"

"Sleeping powders. They start drinking right after dark. I'll have the bourbon loaded with sleeping powders. When Ginger and Flick go to bed they'll be knock-ed out. It'd take a cyclone to snap them out of it."

I saw a flaw, still wanting to call the whole thing off. "That won't work. Suppose-after they find Gus's body-an autopsy is performed? They'd discover he'd been drugged and get suspicious. No, that's out. Too dangerous, I tell you. Look, honey, let's wait. I don't like the looks of it. There must be some other way."

"No," she insisted. "It has to be tonight. I've got that part figured out. You see, Gus drinks Scotch, Flick and Ginger drink bourbon. Gus won't be drugged, because he gets so drunk he won't have to be drugged. He ends in a stupor where he doesn't have the least idea where he is or what he's doing. Oh, believe me, it'll be a very simple job to push him overboard. And," her voice rose on a note of excitement, "you'll be waiting down there in the water for him, making sure he stays under so that he can't breathe."

I shuddered, and felt the suffocation that I knew would be Gus's. Holding the receiver to my ear, I realized she had the thing worked out to perfection, and I was amazed at the cunning way her brain ferreted out details which had to be accomplished. But now I wanted out. I was suddenly afraid.

"Honey, listen, isn't there any way you can slip off and meet me?"

"No. I've already tried. Gus and Flick are keeping their eyes on me. If I tried to leave it might stir up trouble which would be difficult to explain later."

At that moment I had the impulsive urge to revolt.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I don't want to do it. I'm not going to do it. I love you, Fanny, but I won't help you murder your husband. I won't for the good of both of us. For our future. For you, for me. We'd never be able to live in peace afterwards, with such a horrible thing on our minds. It'd tear our love to shreds, believe me!"

Her voice caught, and there was a tense silence. Then I heard her sobbing softly. "Fanny?"

"Yes, Dyke ... I'm still here."

"It's for the best that we don't do it. You know that, don't you?"

Her words came brokenly, as though her heart was breaking. "Maybe it's not right, darling. But I don't care. I don't care if it's wrong or right. All I know is that I love you and want to be with you. The Seven Seas is leaving in the morning and I'll never get to see you again. I thought about that all last night, darling, and I almost went crazy. I felt I couldn't go on living if I couldn't be with you and have your love."

The desperate tone of her voice touched me deeply, and I felt my love for her crowding into a monstrous longing in my chest. I wanted to hold her in my arms forever.

"Just walk off and don't look back. I'll come help you. If they try to stop you I'll break their lousy necks for them. We'll make out."

Her voice turned to immediate anger. "Not without the money! He owes me that! What he has is rightfully mine! I won't leave without what's coming to me. He's made my life miserable enough as it is!"

"But we don't have to have the money. We can live without it!"

"No!"

I hesitated, knowing by now that to change her mind was impossible. "Well, I won't help you. You'll have to take a chance on me or there'll be nothing left for us."

She calmed again. "All right, Dyke ... you stay out of it. I think I can manage it alone. I'll hit him with something hard before I push him over the side. I'll make sure he doesn't sober up in the water. That way you'll be in the clear if anything does go wrong. Yes, maybe that's a better idea after all. I shouldn't have mixed you up in this. I love you too much. If I'm caught and punished, at least I'll know you don't have to suffer with me. Oh, Dyke, darling, I'm so confused and miserable!"

I was frozen at her words. Her determination utterly shocked me. I groaned. For a brief moment I pictured her out there by herself trying to do the thing alone ... with no help ... with no help from me at all. ... and when I was the one she was doing it for.

How much of a yellow bastard was I anyhow? I moaned a loud sigh. "No, you won't be alone, honey. I'll be there. Whatever has to be done, we'll do it together. Right or wrong, I want to be with you. I love you."

"I love you too, Dyke."

"Maybe it'll work out for us."

"It will. Oh, Dyke, I know it will! Then we'll have the whole world in our hands ... and we'll be together for always ... for all time...."

"Sure," I said softly. "We can't miss."

I had the feeling of deep regret as I dropped the receiver on the cradle. My flesh was damp and cold with sticky perspiration.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I don't know why I set my alarm to awaken by that night, for sleep was utterly impossible. Thoughts fought like gladiators constantly in my brain. I twisted and turned on the bed, smoked one cigarette after another, and stared at the dark ceiling. Sometimes I had to get up and sit in the chair with elbows propped on the window sill and gaze over the dark expanse of water. In particular I watched the big shadowy hulk of the Seven Seas and wondered fearfully if everything was going as planned with Fanny and the others.

A sense of horror nagged at my guts. I had felt its force all evening, all through the long hours of waiting. It seemed to keep slapping at me with sharp, stinging fingers of warning.

I tried to fight it off, this feeling of doom. I attempted to rationalize it for what it was: fear. And fear, I knew, always accompanied thoughts of murder and death. It was something that had to be dealt with, recognized, and overcome. I told myself the fear was natural and would be natural with anyone, that even a professional killer would have the same fear. It was a thing which must be reckoned with at a time like this. The only danger was that it wouldn't be good to let the fear get the best of you. A man had to keep his wits, with or without the fear.

There was no backing out now. The door had closed tightly behind me and there was no retreat.

It was as though a trap door had slammed shut with a resounding bang, a trap door constructed of cement and steel and weighing as much as a leaden mountain.

At two-thirty in the morning I reached for the alarm clock and cut it off. I started getting into my swimrring trunks, a vague feeling of nausea tugging at my guts.

I saw no one as I left by the rear staircase. I walked quietly around the hotel and veered off from it to avoid the possibility of seeing anyone who might be up at that time of night.

The beach was deserted. A strange quiet pervaded it, so different from other times. The sand felt crisply cool under my feet. I shivered although I realized it was not cold enough to make a man shiver. I stared over the water. It was calm. It had a deathly calm about it. Tiny waves, bare inches high, flashed softly on the sand making small whispering sounds and leaving films of white foam that caught glimmers of moonlight. Enough of this hesitating. I had a job to do.

I waded into the water. It was clammy cold and my teeth chattered, even though it was not really that cold. I thought, what the hell is wrong with me? I answered myself, saying it was the fear, that's all it was, and that I must remember not to let the fear get the better of me.

A few more yards and I started swimming. I swam with long, easy strokes. My muscles, my arm muscles, had a tense jerking in them, which wasn't natural. I took my time, feeling more and more chilled. I had difficulty keeping my teeth from chattering. My chest labored from a shortness of air, also unnatural. My stomach felt like a frozen mass of hard flesh twisted just under my ribs, trying to gag me.

Finally the hulk of the Seven Seas loomed close in the darkness. It hit me then that it was impossible for me to carry on with the gruesome scheme. The minute the realization came to me I felt as though mountains of weight had slid from my shoulders. I sighed deeply, which eased the tension in my chest and lungs and the tightness which had been strangling me.

Not only that, I wasn't going to let Fanny go on with it alone. I knew I would stop her. I would not let her destroy us both with this awful thing.

The current moved me against the side of the yacht. I put my palms against it, treading water, feeling the film of slime on her mahogany hull.

I was motionless, trying to figure what to do next. A silence hung all about, but after awhile I heard movement on deck.

My voice was a hoarse whisper: "Fanny, wait. I'm not-"

Then I heard something which gave me a shock, and I froze, for I recognized the voice, and it didn't belong to Fanny.

"By God, honey, I believe you've pulled it off! I never would have thought you were that good!"

The voice belonged to Gus Loman.

"Didn't I tell you? Darling, didn't I tell you he'd be here! Oh, I just knew he would be!"

I remained still and silent in the water. Were they talking about me? I wondered.

That huge bright spotlight came on and swung to rim me in its horrible glare.

"It's the lifeguard, all right enough," F'lick Sills' voice grated. "That's Dyke Donohoe."

I heard Ginger Gaines' high-pitched burst of laughter. "You owe Flick a thousand dollars, Mr. Loman! That was the bet you made!"

"Looks like I've lost a bundle," Gus agreed.

"I did it!" cried Fanny, her voice riding on a high wave of excitement. "Oh, Gus, can you imagine? I did it!"

"You sure did, baby," Gus said. "I'm proud of you."

The blinding glare of the light tortured my eyes as I attempted to gaze stupidly upward. The crazy, turbulent thoughts and their mystifying words whirled in my brain. What's going on here? I wondered. What are they doing? What are they talking about?

I wished to heaven they'd turn off that light, let me escape it. I felt like some trapped animal caught in its terrible circle. Anger commenced to catch up with me.

"What the hell you crazy people doing up there?" I yelled. "Take that goddamned light out of my face!"

They ignored my demand and went right on discussing my presence as though I were a piece of driftwood.

"Now do you believe I can act, Gus?" said Fanny. "Now do you believe it? Haven't I proved it? Doesn't his being here prove it?"

"I hate to admit it," said Gus Loman, "but I suppose I'll have to. Any woman who can pull off something like this to prove a point-drive a man like Dyke to murder-well, I'd say only a very talented actress could accomplish such a feat."

I froze. What the hell were they talking about? Actress? What did they mean?

"Turn that damned light off me, goddamnit!" I screamed.

They wouldn't listen.

"Then you'll back my acting career, Gus? You promised! Don't forget your promise! It was your show, your idea, your test to prove whether I was an actress or not. You directed it! You said if I could drive a man to murder you'd back my career. I did it! Just look at him down there-look at his silly face! He still hasn't figured it out, that I was acting all the time with him. He still thinks it was for real. He never doubted me for a minute!"

It began to come through to me then, through the dazed web of my brain. It had all been a trick. Fanny had used me to prove to her husband that she was an actress ... that she could act well enough to drive a man to murder. And Gus had been the director of the test and Flick and Ginger were characters playing supporting roles ... all playing a part.

"Yes," Gus Loman said, "I'll back you in your crazy career, Fanny. I don't suppose you'll ever be happy otherwise. And this certainly proves you're a talented actress. No one can deny that fact now, not after this."

A murderous rage suffused my being. I ached to get at her throat and tear it to raw shreds of ugly meat. Goddamn her soul to hell!

I pushed harshly from the hull in a backward stroke, looking up into the light. "You bastards," I shouted. "You dirty rotten bastards! If I could get up there, if I could get my hands on you I'd kill every damned one of you!"

I was still spotlighted. They were laughing at me. I turned on my stomach and swam furiously around the boat, still in the light, hearing their laughter. I reached the pilings and tried desperately to climb one of them. The slime on it was like a thick coating of grease, and just beneath the water's edge it was encrusted with the jagged edges of thousands of barnacles which tore my legs as I slipped back.

How they were laughing! I swam away from the pilings into open water, circling the yacht-seeking a way to get on that boat and kill them! Especially her!

Now, through the laughter of the others, she was yelling at me. I looked and made out her form poised on the side of the yacht.

"Dyke!" she screamed at me. "Time for another swimming lesson, isn't it? You were going to teach me how to swim, weren't you?"

"No, Fanny-wait!" Gus pleaded tensely. "That's carrying it too far!"

"Here I come, Dyke! Catch me! Catch me, darling lover!"

Completely stunned, I watched her slim body do a neat arc off the boat and split the water in a dive of perfection which hardly made a ripple.

I yelled in hoarsed triumph, "I'll drown you!"

I went after her with an urge born of hate, such hate as I'd never known. To grab her, to get my hands on her just once, to squeeze and tear her flesh!

"Here I am, Dyke! Come, lover! Come, lover mine, catch me and hold me in your arms! Kiss me, lover ... my fool!"

"Kill you!" I screamed.

The laughter on the Seven Seas rose to hideous crescendo.

"Be careful, Fanny!" Gus shouted.

Flick yelled! "He'll never catch that water nymph!"

Like hell I wouldn't!

The light moved from me and picked her up, her laughing face. She was treading water and holding her arms out to me in a mock gesture of love, and she laughed. "Hurry to me, my lover! My arms are hungry to hold you. Catch me! Love me!"

I flailed toward her in a mad splashing race. Just as I reached her, she disappeared beneath the surface. I made a quick circle where she'd been, groping hands downward in an effort to catch her. "Where are you, you bitch!"

The laughter on the yacht broke forth renewed, the light illuminated my face. I knew the frustration they saw in my eyes was appalling. I didn't care. I would catch and kill her if it was the last act of my life.

"And he thought she couldn't swim!" Gus roared with glee. "He was giving her lessons-teaching Fanny how to swim! Fanny-queen of the water ballet back when I married her. ... teaching her how to swim! Christ, that guy can't even recognize a champion swimmer when he sees one. How stupid can you be!"

The peals of their taunts grated in my ears. The rage was bursting my lungs. Where the goddamn hell was she?

"Here I am, Dyke-behind you! You missed me, lover! What's wrong, don't you love me? Don't you want to hold and kiss me! Come, Dyke! Come, lover mine! Here I am! Here's your love, your true love! Catch me and take me away with you! I've decided we can live on a lifeguard's pay! What was it you said? That all we needed was our love to live on? Then chase me, lover! Chase me and catch me and we'll live happily ever after!"

I cried out in fury and swam toward her on wings of hate. She disappeared again as I nearly reached her. She was an eel in the water. I dived and sought her hated flesh in the darkness under the surface. I groped wildly, probing the world of blackness frantically. If only I could get my hands on her....

I emerged and she called to me from beside the yacht. "Over here, Dyke darling. Over here! Where have you been? I've been looking for you, waiting for you. Come, lover, I'm getting impatient for your hands to touch me. Come, lover ... come!"

I came all right. I came at her with a rush. I had to get to her-had to dig my fingers in the flesh of her laughing, taunting, mocking throat ... had to!

The light swung on her. Flick had dropped a rope which she entwined about her wrist. As I almost touched her, her glistening body rose in the air suspended by one arm. I cried hoarsely and made a lunge, swinging out my arms. My fingers grazed her toes, and I fell back with a loud groan.

Flick laughed, as I surfaced. He had lowered her again and as I looked up this time, expecting her to be aboard now, she was right over me. She squashed her foot square in my face, and in the next instant they were laughing and hoisting her wriggling body over the railing above.

"You dirty filthy bastards!" I screamed. "I'll get you-kill every damned one of you!"

With insane rage I clawed at the slick mahogany hull. Then I turned and swam hard for the beach. The pier, I thought. Get to the beach and come back along the pier ... get to them that way ... kill them ... kill her ... tear them all to pieces....

As I raced for shore I heard Gus say: "Fun's over, kiddies. Throw off the line, Flick, I'll get the wheel. Help Flick with the lines, Ginger. That bastard might come back with a gun. Hurry! Party's over. Time to be going."

"Am I an actress, Gus? Am I an actress?"

"Best little actress I ever saw, sweetheart. But we better be getting out of here now. That stupid fool will be back with killing on his mind."

I swam, trying to block their voices from my ears, but I couldn't. I felt sand under my feet finally and ran for the pier and back along it, breathing like a bellows, my chest crying for oxygen.

"'Bye, Dyke! 'Bye 'bye, loving baby!"

Too late! The yacht had moved fifteen feet from the pier. Fanny was there, laughing at the hate on my face, and urging: "Jump, Dyke! Darling, they're taking me away from you! Jump! Come save me, darling! Jump! Jump! You can make it! Sweetheart, please! Jump!"

I jumped. "Kill you, goddamn you!" Leaped as hard and far as I could. Came nowhere close to making it. I splashed like a drunken body with a dead spirit into the water below.

The laughter. Her laughter now. I rolled onto my back like a sodden log. I saw her mocking face and hated, luscious body above me. She made a quick movement, and was naked, holding out the strands of the Bikini in her delicate fingers. She dropped the Bikini down into my face.

"Something to remember me by," she cooed in mockery. "Keep it next to your heart always, darling Dyke. To keep the memory of our great love alive forever...."

I had no fight left. I watched as she played her hands over her nakedness there in the moonlight for me to see ... watched the taunting undulations of her hips. ... heard her throaty sadistic gurglings. Then the Seven Seas commenced to pull away under power. She blew me kisses amidst her laughter.

"Bye-bye, Dyke ... Bye-bye, lover...."

With a groan I turned and swam with leadened muscles toward the beach.

Well, I always did like baseball.

And down here in little old Vero Beach we got Dodgertown; you know, where all that spring training goes on with the big leagues. And after that we got baseball all through the year. Vero Beach is just about the base balliest place you ever did see. I hang around Dodgertown quite a bit these days.

Sometimes Sandy comes with me. She likes baseball, too.

We're married now and running that little hotel on the ocean front for her Uncle Sims. He's sort of retired now that we're here. Says he's going to leave the place to us, and we're building up the business day by day. With the wonderful climate down here along the Gold Coast of Florida, the tourists are beginning to pile in during both summer and winter months.

Uncle Sims is a nice old guy-loves to fish, but says he never had much time before Sandy and I took over. Now he goes almost every day. Sometimes he goes salt-water fishing after the big ones, like Sail-fish, Jacks, Snooks, Channel Bass, Wahoo and Dolphins and Black Drum and Tarpon. But next day you'll find him over around the Rainy Head marshes with his fly rod trying his luck on those famous big fresh water black bass.

I never had to clean so many fish in my life. I like to eat 'em but I sure hate to clean 'em.

I told Sandy about the Fanny Loman thing, and how stupid I was. She doesn't hold it against me.

"You always were kind of dumb," she'd told me laughingly. "That was one of the reasons I loved you.

You have a certain, ignorant charm."

"Well, thanks," I said.

Yep, things are coming along fine now for Sandy and me and Uncle Sims. Everything folks could need or want is right down here in little old Vero Beach. Perfect weather, and every kind of tourist attraction you can imagine.

But there's one local attraction I don't particularly cater to-not that it's not a good one, mind you (and you ought to see it when you're down this way). But for me this specific sight sort of unnerves me.

It's called the DOLPHINETTES-a water ballet of twenty beautiful girls. They're famous all over Florida.

And you really ought to see them.

Not me though. Hell no. I steer clear of that attraction. Every one of them reminds me of a babe I'm trying hard to forget.

No kidding.

But you'll understand why, I'm sure.

THE END
Vicious Vixen ....(82k)    by Ron Woolfe





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