In our modern society, women are asserting their right to be the equal of men in every way. They drive huge semi-trailer trucks, even bulldozers on construction jobs. They fight and claw their way to the top in virtually every industry where sheer brute strength is not required.
One of the fields in which they have made significant inroads is the newspaper. Once consigned automatically to the society desk or the library, they have invaded the formerly all-male City Room. They demand - and earn -the right to be in the thick of things, even in the jungle war of Vietnam.
Unfortunately, their enthusiasm is often greater than their good sense, and they discover themselves in deep trouble.
Such is the case in Sin City Reporter in which author "Doc" Tracy tells the terrifying story of less than two days in the life of cub reporter Candace Moss. Faced with the prospect of having to go to the society news department because her voluptuous beauty is upsetting the City Room staff, the naive heroine volunteers for the roughest beat on the San Diego Express - covering the notorious sins of Tijuana, the border town where thirty million people cross from the United States into Old Mexico, where anything and everything is available if the price is right.
Candace finds herself swept up in a depraved world of tawdry night clubs, perverts, sadists. She witnesses violent death and depraved tortures... and has nowhere to turn for help.
She cannot bargain with the hoodlums - some under the protection of high police officials - with anything other than her virgin body. She knows that to reveal her job will either cost her life, or ruin her career because once exposed, she will be of no use to the lewd-thinking managing editor who loathes the sight of a female in his newsroom.
Candy Moss illustrates a sad but only too true story of what happens when a young, beautiful girl over reaches herself.
But her spirit, her determination to carry out her assignment against impossible odds and in the face of unspeakable indignities, is truly heart warming.
The Publishers are proud to present this daring account of her adventures and misadventures, both as a warning to other young girls, and as an inspiration to strive for the goals in life which they believe worthwhile, whatever the sacrifice.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Candace Moss was finding her new job as a cub reporter on the San Diego Express to be anything but the glamorous and exciting start on a career that she expected when she received her journalism degree from University of California. The long-haired taffy-blonde girl with the tapering legs amply shown beneath the hem of her abbreviated mini-skirt - her full, firm breasts unrestrained by a brassiere - had dreamed of such tingling things as going with the police as they chased a killer through darkened streets, dictating minute-by-minute accounts of disastrous fires over a walkie-talkie to a furiously-typing rewrite man, maybe even being assigned to cover the President when he visited the Western White House a few miles to the north at San Clemente.
Now, she realized she should have known better. Such assignments might come in time, but the time looked far off. Now she was saddled with what all the reporters openly and scornfully called "shitwork" - she was at the bottom of the ladder, and would have to scramble her way up, rung by rung.
She attended service club luncheons and made copious notes while eating chicken and green peas - it was known as the rubber chicken and marble pea circuit. She reported on flower shows. For two hours in the morning, she assisted the obituary editor in calling some fifty mortuaries around San Diego County. He was also church editor, and she backed him up with routine church notices for the page which came out every Friday.
She answered telephones and relayed calls, and occasionally took a story dictated by one of the general assignment men in the field, the ones who were the independent, hard-drinking experienced reporters who more or less wrote their own ticket because they had the know-how that would let them be thrown into any situation that might arise and could dictate a letter-perfect story off the tops of their heads. They had been through it all, seen everything and written it. They could make a story out of nothing and have you weeping or screaming with rage, and it was just a day-to-day thing with them.
One thing puzzled her, and that was Calvin, the church-obit guy. He was only thirty, but he had been one of the best general assignment men, had been night city editor for awhile, and then had incurred the wrath of Leo Belcher, the assistant managing editor, and had been downgraded. She knew he could go to any paper in the country if he felt like it. He was not married and had no ties with San Diego, yet he stayed in what must have been a humiliating situation for a man with his ability and background.
One night after their trick was done, he had taken her to the Shanghai-Low for Margaritas, and she had asked him. His answer had both surprised and educated her.
"Candy, my sweet," he said, "I have it made. I thought you'd have picked it up by now."
"No I haven't," the voluptuous young blonde replied.
"I'll lay it on you! Everyone else works his ass off five days a week. I work two, filling two pages of church stuff, half of which is pix that I take myself. Comes to about eight galleys, a hundred sixty column inches. The deadline is noon Thursday. The desk doesn't get an inch of copy or a single pic until five minutes to twelve. Any time Leo Belcher wants me to do something on the side, I plead I've got my ass up to the sky with church work. The whole thing goes on the desk in one lump. I do it in two days and fuck off three. He knows this, that long-nosed prick! And he can't do a damn thing about it because I got every rabbi, the whole Council of Churches, and the Archbishop in my pocket, as I am the best damn church editor they ever had, and the man upstairs knows it. Believe me, people read that crud. Religiously! When I inherited it, it was a shit joh. Now it's beautiful. I work two days and spend five on my sailboat. Who else in that ink shop can say the same?"
"I see what you mean, Cal," Candy admitted, wondering how she had been so blind. She had a lot to learn about newspapering, and maybe this was the man to teach her. "Leo makes my stomach turn."
"He does have qualifications for the Utter Bastard Of The Year Award," Cal said, signalling for two more Margaritas and for a platter of fried won-ton. "Son of a bitch couldn't write home for money, and they make him number two editor. That's what they do with reporters who can't write. Make editors out of them."
"I don't understand that," she said.
"It seems to be a horrible truth that good reporters and good writers are seldom good editors. But you take a guy who writes "fuck" with two "k's" and no "c", and he can edit or run a newsroom pretty damn good. Now, Leo is all prick, but he's good at his job."
Candy Moss winced at his language, but had become accustomed to hearing all the four-letter words casually sprinkled in city room talk. She had never, or almost never, used them herself, seldom uttering anything more urgent than "damn" or "hell", and only on severe provocation.
"I know he handles the staff efficiently," she admitted, "But he treats me like dirt, like he hated me."
"He still hasn't gotten used to having full-fledged girl reporters on city side," Calvin explained. "When he started in the game, women were confined to society shit. Now, with Women's Lib and the equal-employment, he not only has to put up with them, but hire them, cityside, and the whole thing burns his ass."
"The things he calls me," she murmured.
"Yeah. When he wants you, all across the city room he yells, 'Hey, Eatin Stuff'!, and I see you cringe. "What you should do, when you get your six month probation done and he can't fire you, is yell back, "What do you want, you short-peckered bastard?" and he'll shit on the spot!"
"He might, at that," she said, laughing as their new drinks and the savory won-ton arrived. She popped one of the hot, flavorful morsels into her mouth and crunched the waver-like creation between her fine white teeth, her full sensuous lips smacking in appreciation. "I don't think I'd mind it so much if he ever looked at me like I'm a woman. Even a - a whore! But to him I'm nothing!"
"Leo Belcher is scared shitless of women. They keep throwing him away like soiled panties," Calvin said seriously. "When that man calls you Eatin Stuff, it's really a compliment, even though he doesn't realize he's paying you one."
"I'd just as soon he didn't," Candy replied.
"Well, you are "eatin stuff," Cal said seriously, "I thought about doing a big seduction scene with you when you first came to the Express - but by the time I got around to it, I discovered I liked you too much. I fuck up every girl I care about, and you I do. Damn fool."
"Sweet damn fool," she said, patting his hand and wishing he would do something. Candy was a virgin, but knew she could not remain so much longer. There was a wild and almost painful yearning in her loins. She wanted to have a man make love to her, fill her tight young pussy and her belly with his long hard cock, and make a woman of her! Oh, how she yearned for it as she lay night after night alone in her studio apartment overlooking Mission Bay! But she had held out against her own tempestuous sensual nature, hoping for the right man, one she loved, to be the first. But so far she had found no one.
Candy felt a strong attraction to Frank Calvin, and suspected she would have surrendered her virginity to him eagerly, if he had made the first moves. But he had done nothing more than take her for a couple of drinks after work, on the few days he happened to be in the city room at the same time she was leaving. She had wondered why he seemed to be away all but a couple of hours a day, and now that he had explained his church-page gimmick, she understood. He was out on the bay sailing in his boat while the rest of the staff was slaving away and worrying about deadlines. He had one deadline a week, except in the morning when they had to bury people in time for the "bulldog", which was what the early edition was called. He came in by seven-thirty and was vanished by nine. Good work if you can get it, she thought.
With a sudden wantonness, hoping to let him know in a subtle way that she would welcome an advance, she brushed her mini-skirted thigh against his leg as if by accident when she reached for another won-ton. She saw his eyes react, but while he didn't return the pressure, he didn't pull away either.
Frank Calvin was tall, over six feet, with broad shoulders and slim hips, long-muscled and lean and tanned. He was certainly not handsome. He had a nose which was too big and had been broken at least once and badly set. His mouth was too wide and his jaw too jutting and square. His eyes were pale blue, the eyes of a man who spends a lot of time on the ocean, peering into the far distance. Yet all the features added up to an interesting face, one that most people liked on sight. He had a sense of humor.
"I'd like to get into some action," Candy Moss said, "But I suppose I have to serve my time."
"You could be doing worse," he said. "You could be a copy kid, or in the hen-house."
It was true. She knew that a lot of J-school grads had to start their careers as copy kids. Running errands, filling the paste pots, putting together the "books"; the stacks of copy papfcr and carbons which the reporters would need to write their stories; providing coffee and sandwiches in the hope that not today, but maybe next month, they might be allowed to go out on some insignificant story and thus worm their way into the sacred circle of the Working Press. Or, she could have been stuck away in the society department, writing about nauseating female doings, making endless lists of names of which matron went to what party and crap like that.
No, Candy admitted, she was lucky to be able to work in the city room, even as a cub reporter under the beady and caustic eye of Leo Belcher. And she was learning a lot from Cal.
"You write pretty good," he said. "The copy desk doesn't change much of your stuff. I get the dupes and compare with what goes in the paper. They fuck my copy more than yours." He drained his glass and signaled for another round. "If you really want "to get out from under the shit work, there's a chance. It's a bitchin' miserable beat, but there's plenty of action. You'd get to dig a lot, have to make friends and have them trusting you. You'd see a lot of raw life."
"I don't understand," Candy said.
"Tijuana. Joe Crow is splitting for San Fran."
"Oooooh!" she murmured.
The Tijuana beat was the roughest the paper had to offer. Nobody wanted it. You could get in a hell of a lot of trouble south of the border. TJ was Slime City, but a lot of good stories came from there. It would truly be the crucible for a young, untrained girl reporter. Candy was revolted by the thought of having to go there, yet knew that for a few months, if she survived it, she would become as hardened as any reporter ever had to be.
"I don't think Leo would give it to me," she said.
"He will. Two reasons. One, nobody else will have it. Two, he can't stand the sight of your taut young ass twitching around the city room. He says it's a disturbing influence, and he's damn well right. Every time you swing your tail through the bull pen, typewriters stop. Your jiggling jugs blow minds like they were filled with nitro. You're fucking up the operation because you're so much girl!"
"I see... " Candy muttered, blushing at the lewdly offered compliment, but not resenting it. She knew full well what the sight of her voluptuous body and her almost angelic face did to men, but there was no way to conceal it. A few times she had worn maxi skirts, almost dragging on the ground, and the result had been the same. So she had gone back to the minis, which were much more comfortable and practical in the hot San Diego climate. "How should I bring it up, Cal?"
"I'll drop the word. Let Leo the Lecher come to you."
Later that night, in her apartment overlooking the bay, Candy Moss undressed almost languorously and took a long, cool shower. Instead of drying with a towel, she stood naked, her legs spread, in front of the air conditioner and let its frigid blast cool her body. She could see herself fully reflected in a wall-to-ceiling mirror. Her breasts were firm and young, thrusting out boldly, the nipples hard and aroused in the stream of air. It swept through the pale fringe of pussy hair on her tight-lipped virgin cunt. Her hands moved to cup her lushly ripened breasts and squeezed them hard, making the aching nipples jump out long and rigid. She pressed them with the tips of her fingers and felt a surge of sensual pleasure spread through her body. She remembered the pressure of her thigh against Cal's, and her mind once again started churning with erotic desire.
I wanted him... why couldn't I let him know I wanted him to take me to bed, she thought lewdly. God, now I have to play with my own body again - and I've been ready for a man for so long!
Moaning, she gradually slid her hands from her hips down to her tiny waist and over the smooth swell of her ivory-hued belly to the soft triangle of golden hair which covered her vaginal mound. The tips of her fingers twirled the silken curls and moved lower, until they were caressing the fleshy lips of her hotly pulsating cunt. With a sigh of unfulfilled desire, she slowly separated her sensitive pussy flesh and arched her back, thrusting her pelvis out. The cold stream of air from the cooler blasted over the soft, coral-hued inner layers of her cunt. She wanted that aching cavity up between her legs to be filled, right this minute! But there was no man to do it. She knew that, in five minutes, she could go to one of the neighborhood bars and pick up a male, but she could never bring herself to do such a thing. Never! She would have to take care of herself the way she had done so many lonely times in the past - with her fingers.
Slowly, she began to massage her wetly dilating cunt.
In the mirror she saw the lewd expression of wantonness on her sensuous features. Her full, heavy lips were peeling back over her perfect teeth, and the whites of her eyes were showing, like a frightened mare. Her damp hair streamed like a mane of honey down her back as her entire body began to move sinuously. Despite the frigid stream of air, the blood-engorged lips of her warmly pulsing pussy were dilating, ready for anything. But they would be disappointed, for nothing had ever been inside them except her own fingers, and those only to the unbroken barrier of her maidenhead.
On occasions when she had been to Los Angeles, Candy had passed by "adult" stores. They sold books and lingerie where there were holes cut in the brassieres so the girl's nipples could protrude and be excited by friction against her dress or sweater. Filmy, lace-edged panties with slits at the "vee" so a girl could fuck without taking them off. Chastity belts for those who liked to tease their men before surrendering their body. And the vibrators! Oh God, the vibrators. Some which just fit over the hand and were intended for stimulating all parts of the body. Others, smaller, like tiny cigars, that a girl could carry in her purse and use for a few minutes almost anywhere, just rubbing them over their eagerly twitching cunts on a coffee break. And the most realistic ones were really dildoes with batteries. Shaped like a full, thick penis, even to the ridge of the glans, they could be shoved deep into a cock-starved vagina and turned on... and they would fuck a woman until she was unconscious... unless the batteries gave out before the cunt.
All these things were openly on sale, and legal. So were the books dealing entirely with sexual intercourse in every imaginable way and with any number of people, and magazines filled with full-color pictures also. Once, seeing such a shop had a half-dozen women as customers, Candy had entered out of curiosity, and, she admitted later, with a certain sensual arousal on her own part.
She had thumbed through several of the books. She had not been so shocked by the sexual acts so vividly described, but by the crude language used by the authors, such as, "Suck my prick, you goddamn bitch!,"
"I'm gonna eat that juicy cunt!", "Roll over on your belly and get your ass in the air - I'm gonna fuck your asshole this time!" and things like that. She did not doubt such vile perversions took place among a tiny minority of people, but the sheer lewdness of every word had shocked her and - unexpectedly - titillated her. She had even been more shocked when she picked up some foreign magazines. There she saw beautiful young girls on their knees, their tightly ovalled lips wrapped lovingly around thick white cocks, with expressions of rapture on their faces... and lying with their legs high in the air as great massive penises plumbed the depths of their yielding pink pussies... and others, on hands and knees, with phalluses sunk deep into their rectums. Candy Moss left the store in almost a state of shock, her knees trembling with a strange weakness, her panties soaked with her hungry vaginal secretions. She had been tempted to buy a book and a magazine to take home and pursue later just to see if it was all real, but hadn't had the courage... nor was she brave enough to buy one of the cigar-shaped vibrators.
And it was at times like this, she thought as she watched her reflection in the mirror furiously finger-fucking herself, legs spread apart, her vaginal lips swollen and wetly flexing with the rapid movement of her fingers, Candy wished she had bought one of the big vibrators. Then she could have filled that yearning void up between her legs with something shaped like a man! As it was, her hymen was still intact, and she resisted the almost uncontrollable urge to ram her outstretched middle finger through it. Instead, as her urgent fingers stroked the pink outer lips of her hungry young cunt, her thumb found the hard, erect button of her clitoris and began to massage it feverishly.
"Aaaaaahhhhh! Aaaaaauuuuggghhhhh!" she cried out as the well of fire began to erupt in her surging loins. She felt the inexorable coming of her climax and her entire voluptuous body began to jerk and shudder, the heavy, out thrust moons of her full naked breasts jiggling, her hps stretched taut over her gasping mouth as her hand fucked in and out of her cuntal slit so swiftly that it almost became a blur. On impulse, she bent over and shoved the thumb of her other hand into her tightly-puckered anus, crying out, "Oooohhhh!!!" as the unexpected pain caused a sudden surge of masochistic pleasure to roll through the wildly undulating pelvis.
The waves of forbidden sensation swept over her entire body, and wantonly she used both hands on herself now as she felt the hot foaming stream of liquid passion flow out of her convulsing young cunt to coat her hand and run down the weakly-trembling insides of her thighs. The rich aroma of her own vaginal fluids filled her passion-flaring nostrils, and she forced down a shrill scream of exaltation.
Her long, pale hair tumbled forward over her face, and through its strands she saw her own lust-contorted features looking like one of the women in the bookstore photographs. She kept fingering her love-starved pussy until her body had exhausted itself, moaning softly. She slowly withdrew her thumb from her stretched little anus, hearing the juicy popping noise as it slid from the tight confines of the rubbery ring of her sphincter. She let her other hand trail away from her momentarily satiated cunt as she straightened up, and she looked at the reflection of her beautiful young body with a certain degree of shame. Candy knew, from reading the current manuals of sex, that what she had done was entirely normal... yet it was in direct contradiction to everything she had been taught as a child by her middle-class, conservative parents. Her body was not something to be played with, they preached. She was to remain pure for the man who would someday be her husband.
Yet, she knew, from life in the sorority house at Cal, that all the co-eds did it. Did all kinds of things... by themselves, with the male students, and sometimes with each other. They told lurid tales, most of which she knew were at least partly true. Candy had managed to abstain from any sexual contact with either men or the other girls, but there were nights when she had lain alone in her room, her fingers caressing her wetly yearning cunt, and wondered just what she would do if one of the girls who tiptoed down the hallway to the room of another co-ed had opened her door instead and slipped into her bed. She had half-suspected that, if the time had been right, when she was on the point of violent passion, she would have responded whole-heartedly to a lesbian advance. Not that she wanted to make love with another girl, but as a way of knowing that she was not alone in her consuming sexual need.
"Ooooooh!" she murmured in relief as the burning fire inside her was banked. Her fingers were sticky with her own glistening cum. Slowly then, she brought them to her mouth and sucked the sweetness from them as the smoky glaze of passion receded from her dark eyes. Then she went into the tiny bathroom and washed between her legs.
Transfer to the Tijuana beat came much easier and faster than she had expected. It was only the next day that Leo Belcher called her into the cubbyhole he used as an office for private talks. A cigar in his thin, sardonic mouth, his cold eyes swept over her ripe young body, lingering on the smooth, tapering legs and the jutting mounds of her wide-set breasts. He waved her to a plain wooden chair and sat behind a littered desk, glaring.
"I hear you want to cover Sin City," he said.
"It sounds like good experience," Candy replied.
"You bet your sweet ass it'll be an experience," he retorted with sarcasm. "Shit, they'd eat you alive." He leaned forward and said, "Kid, you write pretty good. But you're a pain in my ass. Every time you get up from your desk, every goddamn guy in the city room has his mind fucked from watching your ass swivel. You're all cunt! I got to get you the hell out of here, out of the city room! You were headed for the society desk downstairs next week... but now this. I dunno... shit!" He leaned back and chewed his cigar. "It's not that I don't like you. You're a likable kid, and someday you may make a reporter. It's just that having you around fucks up the whole operation. Okay - tell you what - you may not know what you're asking for. You go down to Sin City a few nights. Crawl through those sewers. Look at the kind of creeps that make news for us down there. Then come back next week and tell me if you want it. What I actually want is a man on the beat, but they get into the fucking whore houses, start sampling the free booze and merchandise, and sometimes we don't hear from them for three days. Or they get tossed in jail if they get too close to some politico on the take. Okay?"
"I'll try it," Candy said, blushing at the crudeness of the city editor's language. Anything would be better than staying in the city room with this foul-mouthed idiot - or being consigned to the society desk. Flippantly, with a confidence she didn't feel, she said, "Maybe I'll like it."
"Joe Crow will show you around, and don't worry about turning out copy the first few days. Get to know that shit hole. And take care of your ass, padlock it baby, and carry your own toilet paper and soap."
If I had some soap now, I'd love to wash out your filthy mouth, Candy thought as the interview ended.
The Express maintained a small apartment not far from Avenida Revolucion, Tijuana's main street. Joe Crow poured two healthy shots of tequila and added a few drops of lime juice. He was a thin, youngish man with eyes which were already tired. He looked across the low table at Candy and shook his head.
"Your fucking bird is out of his tree," he said without emotion. 'To take a shot at this beat... "
"It's either this or the hen house - society desk," Candy said, shutting her ears to his vulgarity. "I want to be a reporter."
"Well, you sure as shit came to the right place," he said. "Narcotics, gambling, whoring, smuggling, white slavery. Biggest border town in the U.S.! Last year, thirty million people crossed the line, most for just a few hours. Get laid, bet on the ponies, pick up some pot or cheap booze and try to get it in. Damn place is wild as Singapore. Take my advice. Go on the society desk."
"No," Candy sadly said, "I couldn't... "
"Okay, honey. Drink up and I'll take you on a tour of the sewer." He tossed off his drink quickly.
Candy followed suit. They left the apartment, which would now be hers to use, and he took her on the town, through a dozen bars, introducing her to people whose names she mentally catalogued, but immediately forgot. She did not forget the way their hungry eyes salaciously swept over her body, and wished she had worn a loose sweater and slacks instead of the very short and revealing mini-skirt.
Three hours later, Joe Crow was feeling no pain. Candy prudently restricted herself to soft drinks as they made their way up and down Revolucion and Benito Juarez and some of the side streets, jostled by tourists and Mexicans alike. Candy had to steel herself against some of the sights she saw. They were beyond belief! Crow took her on a guided tour through a crib whorehouse. They walked through one brightly-lighted room where a girl in a blonde hairpiece was pumping her avidly-sucking mouth up and down the rampant cock of a rapturously-sighing sailor, her cheeks bulging and hollowing with each stroke. Her eyes opened briefly to note their passage, but she didn't slow the rhythmic slurping of her tightly-ovalling lips or otherwise acknowledge their presence.
They went to a night club called the Bull Ring, where a bored Mexican beat on a snare drum as a young teenage girl in a filmy hip-length see-through nightie ground her hips and buttocks with obvious boredom in time to the drummer's unsteady pace. She wore nothing beneath the gossamer garment, and it barely covered her dark haired pubic triangle. She shuffled around on a small stage, raised about two feet from the floor of the club and framed by a brass rail.
"Hey, who wanna eat some pure pusseeee?" the drummer called out, leering. "Nice, sweet virgin pusseeee... come an' get it, fellas!"
Grinning wantonly, licking her sensuous lips, the dark-haired girl perched on the rail and leaned back, undulating her hips as she spread her long olive-hued legs wide, fully exposing the fleshy pink lips of her cunt. Candy guessed she was no more than sixteen. She scissored her legs in invitation, the tip of her tongue flicking over the softness of her mouth, and she beckoned an invitation. She rammed her hips forward, reached down to spread her vaginal lips wide, and exposed the dewy, coral-hued flesh inside.
"Come on, amigos... young virgin wants you to eat her pusseee!" the drummer challenged.
At that, a bald-headed fat man who looked like a fugitive from choir practice almost ran forward and dropped to his knees in front of the rail where the teenage performer was perched. Laughing gaily, the girl swung her long legs up and over his shoulders, closing tight around his red, puffy face as he burrowed into the "vee" of her loins. Almost immediately, his tongue began to slide wetly up and down the hair-lined furrow of her young cunt. The drummer stopped and for a moment all that could be heard were his grunts and the lewd sluicing of his tongue as it probed her wetly glistening pussy. He grabbed her legs, spreading them even wider, and pressed his face eagerly into the soft warm moistness of her vagina as she began to grind her pelvis up against his urgent mouth. Candy steeled herself to watch it, wondering how anybody could be so depraved! She knew that sometimes lovers did such things in private. But to do it with a couple of hundred leering onlookers in a tawdry night club was unthinkable!
The sheer obscenity and lewdness of it carried her beyond the point of shock, even as a masochist finds pleasure in pain. She found herself a casual observer as the fat, balding man slobbered and licked and sucked the young girl's pink pussy flesh. She heard drunken voices urging the man to greater efforts - and, amazingly, the girl seemed to be enjoying the experience. Her head went back and her eyes closed as her hands reached down to caress the balding head and the jowly face. Moaning in genuine pleasure now, the teenage girl squirmed and humped up to the darting, licking tongue. It seemed to go on forever as she writhed and gasped while his long slippery tongue fucked deep up into the clutching depths of her pussy. She was mewling and crying out softly, her long, dark legs alternately opening wide and then clutching the slobbering tourist's face.
"By God, I think she's cumming!" Joe Crow observed with professional detachment. "The little whore!"
"If she had as many pricks sticking out of her as she's had stuck in her, she'd look like a porcupine," he retorted.
"I suppose so."
"You ever see anything like this before?"
"No."
"You still want this beat?"
"How much more is there to see?" she responded, trying to control her voice. "It's not happening to me. I've had the shock treatment. I still want this more than the who-wore-what to the Country Club ball."
"You make one slip, and it could happen to you," Joe Crow cautioned. "I've got almost three years in this town. It is not a nice place. I am not a nice guy, which is maybe why I survive. If things look rough, I kick nuts and run like hell for the border. I have been lucky. This is no job for a pretty young kid. Male or female."
"I still want it," she said, watching the fat man, now satiated, rise from his knees and immediately go upstairs with one of the many prostitutes who worked in the bar. "I'm a reporter. I observe and write. I don't have to be drawn into it."
"Candy, I hope you're right," he said, but he looked as if he thought she was wrong!
CHAPTER TWO
With misgivings, but feeling she was starting what might develop into the greatest adventure of her nascent career, Candy Moss set out the following afternoon to learn her way around the tawdry border town. Joe Crow left her a long list of potential news sources, names of high government officials, the police agents who could cut through red tape and would because they were on a retainer from the newspaper; U.S. narcotics and counter-intelligence agents and some of the top figures in the underworld who could be tapped for information from time to time. Candy spent most of the day visiting with these people and received the firm advice that she should go home and play with her dolls; that this was no place for such a beautiful and naive young girl.
This disparagement only served to strengthen her determination to keep the assignment. One of her first moves was to hire a maid to straighten the apartment. She determined not to live in it - it would serve more as an office than a home, but it could double as a crashed when covering the beat kept her from returning to her place in San Diego. She brought a minimum of clothes in her old but still drivable Pontiac station wagon.
Leo Belcher had told her not to worry about producing copy immediately. If something big broke, jump on it, but otherwise just take her time finding her way around. He said it with the implied suggestion that once she did that, she would split for the border like a tall dog.
Candy soon learned that, except for the Sunday afternoon bull fights, and the racing dates at Agua Caliente track, Tijuana is a night town. Although the streets are crowded with day-trippers, nothing newsworthy seems to happen until after 10 p.m.
Tired from her long day of making friends with news sources and fixing the street layout in her mind, Candy returned to the apartment in late afternoon. It had been thoroughly cleaned and fumigated. She put her clothes away and lay down on the bed for a nap. By nine she was awake and showered. She hesitated at the wardrobe, not sure whether she should wear a dress or slacks. She momentarily regretted that the only dresses she owned were minis which came barely to the juncture of her thighs. She opted for a cashmere sweater which somehow seemed too tight and her hip-hugger flare slacks which were definitely too tight. Although they concealed her long, tapering legs, they fit like a second skin, and were perhaps even more provocative than a mini-skirt would have been. She almost wished she owned a brassiere, knowing however that one would do no good. Her breasts were just too firm and too prominent. The fuzzy cashmere did at least somewhat camouflage the thrusting young nipples by softening their outline. She brushed her golden hair until it shone and slung a big purse over her shoulder. In it she carried the usual feminine things, plus a Minox camera with miniaturized strobe light and one item she had never owned before - a can of aerosol hair spray. Joe Crow had solemnly advised her the stuff was as good as Chemical Mace if she got into a tight spot. Spray it in the eyes of an attacker and he was out of business, his eyeballs burning terribly from the shellac and other compounds.
Candy set out to see the night sights. As she expected, she was ogled and propositioned by Anglos and Mexicans alike but she froze them with hard stares from her dark eyes. They were eyes which could shine with passion or cut a man cold in an instant. She drifted from one night spot to another. For dinner she had a plate of tacos and enchiladas and frijoles refritos, the spicy mashed and refried beans which are a staple of the Mexican diet. She liked the food in Tijuana. Hundreds of times she had heard Americans wail about spending days on the toilet after one bout with the Mexican cooking, but she was convinced it was all in their heads. She not only ate everything but drank the water and had never been struck down by Montezuma's Revenge - a euphemism for diarrhea which strikes most tourists coming to Mexico. She relaxed, listening with genuine pleasure to the colorful mariachis, the strolling musicians, as she slowly nursed a couple of bottles of Carta Blanca beer.
It was nearly 2 a.m. when she discovered a side-street nightclub called the Brush Rabbit. Instantly she realized it was a tourist trap, purposely off the main arteries. Dark and odoriferous, the management's goal was apparently to create an atmosphere of the most wanton depravity since Sodom and Gomorrah fell down.
On a scarlet chaise-longue, a dark-haired North American girl was nakedly poised above the reclining body of a slender Mexican boy who couldn't have been more than seventeen. As she straddled him, she was looking down intently between the dangling peaks of her ripe young breasts at his thick cock as her wetly clasping pussy fucked up and down it's long incredible length. The wide-stretched lips of her cunt clutched it tightly, and each time she rose above him, her pink inner vaginal flesh was drawn outward from her trembling body, wrapping the thick shaft like a pouting mouth. Her face was contorted with rapture, and her buttocks ground and clenched as the massive pole of flesh penetrated deep up into her quivering belly. Candy could hear her sighs and gasps of passion as she began to fuck faster and faster up and down on the thick blood-hardened penis. The liquid slap of her wetly grasping cunt against his up-thrusting pelvis filled the room. Somewhere in the dimness, a male voice offered odds on how long Pancho would last with a hot piece like this riding his cock. Suddenly the urgently fucking girl shuddered and her head went back, her dark hair spraying wildly, and she screamed out her completion.
"Eeeeeyyyyyeeeeeeee!!!... Aaaaaaauuuuuuggggghhhh!" she cried, and slumped limply over the young boy, her cuntal lips rippling as her internal muscles milked and pulled at his penis. She lay, her body undulating slowly, sensuously, and her fingers reached behind her widespread ass-cheeks to cup and squeeze his balls.
She panted heavily, her breasts flattened against the boy's thin chest, and slowly life returned to her glazed eyes. Candy thought she must be on some kind of dope - she was obviously in a world of her own, a world of sensual heat and desire now satiated! With a soft, lubricious sound, she rose slowly from his still hard penis, her cuntal flesh drawing out pinkly over his wet, glistening thickness. A long string of pale-hued cum linked the bulging head of his cock to her pubic hair. The boy reached up and grasped one of her swaying breasts in his hawk-like fingers, and a sadistic gleam appeared in his dark eyes.
"I'm still hard, bitch," he said. "Do me."
"I can't... can't move, Ramon," the girl protested weakly. "I can't fuck any more. I'm all fucked out."
"Then suck it!"
He viciously grabbed her hair and pulled her beautiful face down to his loins, grasping his still-rampant cock in his hand. She hesitated only a minute, and then her soft mouth opened wide, lips softly covering her teeth. Her tongue snaked out and began to lick her own cuntal fluid from his visibly throbbing penis. And then she sucked his lust-hardened penis into her mouth. With a sigh of pleasure, the girl began to devour his manhood while her fingers teased his balls. Candy could hear the lewd slurping sounds made by her tightly ovalled lips as they slid up and down his moistly glistening cock. The girl's eyes were closed, and she was obviously off on another trip to rapture. And Candy sensed this was no whore performing, this was a girl who desired the sweet cock she was sucking and would be happy to do anything the teenage Mexican stud demanded of her just for the privilege of being fucked by the teen - even to the point of debasing herself in this tawdry back street Tijuana deadfall. Candy steeled herself against the urge to cut and run and be sick in the garbage-strewn gutter. She watched the girl's cheeks alternately hollow and balloon as her mouth engulfed his long rigid penis to the base, and her nose buried itself in the curling dark pubic hair of the youth as her fingers urgently squeezed his scrotal sac. She could hear the animal-like moans of hunger escape from the girl's ovalled lips as they parted and she gulped air on the upstroke, her mouth coming up all the way - leaving just the bulbous tip still locked within her voraciously sucking lips.
Suddenly the boy began to thrust deeper into her greedy little throat, and Candy saw his sperm-bloated balls pull up tight to his body and then the uncontrollable jerking of his penis as he began to cum in the girl's eagerly sucking mouth. The girl was gasping and gulping down his white hot sperm, her throat spasming as her cheeks swelled with the massive ejaculation. The cum spurted in little streams from the corners of her tightly-pursed lips as the boy grabbed her head and held it tight to his surging loins, jackhammering his still-hard cock into her soft wet mouth. He held her head to his genitals for a long time before releasing her, and when he did, the girl tenderly began to lick the glistening drops of his cum from the now-softening shaft of male flesh.
Candy found herself totally revolted but at the same time obscenely excited by the performance. Up between her legs, she could feel a wetness spreading from her heatedly aroused cunt. She realized that in a fantasy, she had identified with the dark-haired girl. It had been her cunt that was being so obscenely filled... her mouth that had so salaciously sucked the thick young cock and then urgently laved the bulging, dark-hued head. She faced the truth that for a long time she had wanted a sexual experience with a man - certainly not in such sordid circumstances - but as exciting as what the other girl had just experienced. Her face flushed, she managed to compose herself long enough to ask for a bottle of Carta Blanca when a leering waiter finally came by the table she had picked in a corner.
For the first time, she gave some attention to the layout of the place itself. To the left, along the wall, was a dark row of booths. The chaise-longue where the action had taken place was at right-angles to it, illuminated by a bank of soft red lamps. Angling off from that, toward her, was the bar, perhaps thirty feet long. Then more booths. The sides of these were high, offering some privacy, and there were curtains which could be drawn to close them off.
"You're wise to drink bottled beer. The drinks are terrible here."
Startled, Candy looked up to see a tall, slim man - no, more than likely a boy of no more than eighteen - had materialized beside her table. He carried a tray with a bottle of beer and a glass. He was dressed entirely in leather, black leather with what was known as the "wet look". He was lean as a snake, and the leather shirt and pants fit him like the skin of a snake. Her eyes were on a level with his hips, and there was no mistaking the long virile bulge which began at his tightly-encased crotch and reached all the way to the ornate hammered-silver buckle of his wide belt.
No penis can possibly be that long! Candy told herself. She thought of how the Victorian dandies, the fancy men, used to stuff thick rolls of hair inside the codpiece of their trousers to make the ladies think they had more than was really so. The darkly handsome youth saw Candy's eyes staring and deliberately flexed his staff of flesh. She couldn't mistake the surge of blood-filled penis. It was real, and it had to be ten inches long!
"I suggest you move to another booth, senorita," he said in a liquid voice. "Here you are exposed to any turista who might arrive. They can be offensive. Or, you might be observed by an acquaintance, who would be eager to tell how you were in the Brush Rabbit, and cause you embarrassment. I suggest that nice dark booth over there, from which you can enjoy the entertainment with discretion."
The youth spoke excellent, almost unaccented English, but with stilted phrasing. But there was no mistaking the way his smoldering eyes roved over the ripe contours of her body. Candy hesitated and then realized what he said was true. She was in an exposed position. Any drunk coming through the door might try to move in on her. And to her surprise, the young Mexican slid in beside her, his thigh moving against hers until she was pressed against the plywood panel of the wall. Her instinct told her to push him away, but when she tried, he proved to be an immovable object. He was grinning at her in a way that might be lewd or might just be a Latin compliment - she wasn't sure. But she had asked for this sort of thing when she took the Tijuana assignment, so she thought she might as well get accustomed to it. She poured beer into her glass and realized he was regarding her with what had to be true curiosity.
"Is there something about me that bothers you?" Candy said, trying to keep cool. The pressure of his leg against hers was unmistakable, yet he wasn't coming on like any male she had met before. The weft-leather getup frightened her somewhat - she had read about people who wore leather. They were freaky. This whole place was freaky. Now a red-haired girl was reclining on the chaise-longue and the same boy who had been with the dark-haired girl was kneeling between her legs, his long, red tongue flicking up and down the moist slit of her cunt as she groaned and writhed under his oral caress.
"Senorita, I am bewildered why one so beautiful as yourself would find a need to come here," he said. She sensed that he was telling her the truth. "You are not like the others. I see it in your eyes. You are not a puta like the one who is getting her cunt licked. Men would tear each other apart to have the privilege of satisfying you."
"I have my reasons," Candy said, for lack of any better answer. It was ambiguous enough to make him think a minute, while she gathered her own confused thoughts.
"If that is the case... " he said, sighing. She heard the soft whisper of a zipper and he moved against her. "Give me your hand."
Confused, she allowed him to take her hand and guide it below the table, up between his legs. He closed her fingers over the long, hotly throbbing shaft of his penis, wrapping them tight around the mushroom-shaped cock-head. It was thick and hard as iron. She gasped in shock and tried to pull her fingers away, but his hand was over hers, holding it captive, making her fingers slide up and down the throbbing cock so she could feel the velvety softness of the head, already slick with droplets of lubricating fluids.
"Oh, my God!" she gasped.
"You would like it?" he asked smoothly. "I am Pablo. I am much better than that boy you see up there... with my mouth or any other way you would desire. With such a lovely senorita, I would take enormous pleasure, and give as much, with all my heart and body. For an hour, in all the ways which might pleasure you, only three hundred pesos - twenty-four American dollars, in my room, and it is a clean room. I am a clean man. If you wish to spend the night - and I will make love to you without sleeping and assure you I will see you get back across the border completely satisfied - only a thousand pesos. Eighty dollars." He grinned, showing a fine row of white teeth under a thin mustache. There was no denying he was the typical dream-picture of a young Latin lover. "I swear to you, senorita, that if I didn't have to make a living, I would be honored to take you into my bed as your lover. I would bring you presents. You are so lovely. I do not understand why you must come to such a stud house as this vile place, but you must have your reasons. Some of the women I am forced to service! I charge them a thousand pesos for a short time - make them cum in five minutes - and then I wash myself and pray to the Virgin for forgiveness, because I am only a whore. With you I would be an hombre! With you I would be as good as I can ever be."
"A stud house?"
Candy Moss had never heard the phrase, but understood immediately what it meant. This was a place where lonely women came to be serviced by vigorous young men, just as lonely men went to brothels for anonymous sex. For the first time she really looked around the tawdry bar, her eyes barely taking in the couple on the chaise-longue, where the boy had his face deeply buried in the wildly thrashing "vee" of the red-haired girl's glistening cunt-hairs. She saw none of the female prostitutes who were as much of a fixture in the other cantinas as the glasses back of the bar. Here there were men lounging around, all dressed in tight clothes to show off their young, masculine bodies. It suddenly hit her consciousness that women did need sex as much as men, and that, in a town like Tijuana, there would be palaces of pleasure to accommodate them.
And, she realized with a shock, her own slender fingers were of their own volition now closed warmly around the hardened hot thickness of Pablo's cock and she was stroking it, running her thumb wonderingly over its bulbous head, squeezing tightly. How was she doing this without thinking? It seemed so natural to her... and she had never touched a man's penis before in her life! Her face flushed with shame, and she tried to take her hand away, but his fingers closed over it gently and held it in place. She let him hold her there, and felt the warm throbbing life of him.
God! What would it be like to have his wonderfully long penis in her! Splitting her virgin cunt, fucking up into her trembling vagina until it filled her quaking belly! Making her shudder and scream with ecstasy.
She found herself tempted. It might be better to do it the first time with someone she'd never see again; do it with a male who was a real expert, who would teach her all the lewd pleasures her body might give to her. The young girl reporter sensed this virile young man knew every way to satisfy a woman... and realized how, subconsciously, she was afraid that despite her voluptuous body she would be inadequate when she finally found a man as a long-term lover or husband. She was well aware that no man - save a few freaks - expected to marry a virgin in these times. If and when she married, the best thing she could bring to the nuptual couch would be an expertise in sex.
This young stud could teach her. And he was handsome. And with a virile penis so big... he would fill her pussy to the bursting point!
Candy admitted to herself she wanted the experience. She told herself it would be something she would be able to wipe from her mind later, retaining only the lessons in fucking. And sucking! All men wanted that... Pablo would teach her to suck. Make her an instant sexpert!
But she could not bear to have it happen in this slimy sewer of a nightclub, where horny women paid to be fucked in public. If she could take him to her temporary apartment, she might be able to relax and enjoy it. She doubted there would be much enjoyment, because she knew she would be up-tight all through it, unless he was a really skillful lover who could put her at ease and then drive her into such a frenzy of passion that she didn't care what happened. She was wildly confused, but at the same time felt the fires of desire building ever higher in her wetly throbbing cunt.
Without thinking, she moved her other hand lower to cup his heavy, sperm-laden balls. She sought to display the moment of decision, even as she kneaded his warm virile testicles between her soft fingers. She fumbled for words which would be convincing, and a plausible story came to mind.
Still stroking his turgid penis, fingering his scrotum, she looked into his dark Latin eyes and murmured, "Pablo, you were right. I didn't come here for this sort of thing. I'm a writer. I do articles for magazines, all kinds of magazines. I free-lance."
"Free-lance?" he said, not understanding.
"I go out and get material and write. Like Cosmopolitan is a slick magazine for frustrated women who want to get laid and don't get a man very often. They might buy a story on how women come to a place like this for sex. With the same material, I could do a piece for TRUE or Argosy on how young men like you make a living servicing women, and the men would eat it up and be down here trying to put you out of work. I could write a confession piece. Maybe even a dirty book. Do you understand?"
"I think so. You would write and hope they pay you."
"Yes. Si!"
"But you would not want the sex yourself. You would want me to tell you of the things I have done to women."
"Yes."
"No sex? How can you write of such a thing without knowing a stud!"
'That's my problem... I can! Sex doesn't interest me that much." Candy insisted.
"Then why are you holding my cock so hard?"
He laughed wildly and thrust his pelvis up so the full length of his warmly pulsing penis slid through her grasping fingers, the loose foreskin rolling under her thumb. She could not help but laugh with him. She knew she should pull her lewdly clutching hand away, but somehow it was making an intimate contact that she needed, and her mind was whirling. She knew that the Express would never publish a story such as this, but her off-the-top-of-the-head lie about free-lancing now appeared to be not so crazy. There were magazines which would pay .her what amounted to three month's salary on the paper for five or six thousand words - say twenty pages and three hours of typing - on this theme.
By God! She would take the chance! Candy decided. She knew that the things this handsome young man would tell her undoubtedly would have an erotic effect on her... knew that she might well become overcome with desire for him and beg him to fuck her and make love to her in all his expert ways. But again, wouldn't that be an advantage to her when she finally chose a man for good? To be able to delight her chosen male in every sensual pleasure? Yes, it would be worth the gamble!
"Pablo, I think we might make an arrangement," Candy said. "But not in this place. I have an apartment. There is a tape recorder, and we'll just allow ourselves to relax and talk. I don't have much money, but I can pay you a thousand pesos a day for at least three days, and we can eat." Her eyes narrowed. "There is a bed and a studio couch. You sleep on the couch."
"You still have a tight hold on my prick, senorita," the Mexican said with a grin.
"Because I'm trying to talk to you!" Cindy blurted, blushing. She made herself let go of his genitals, dug into her tote bag and quickly scrawled her address on a card. "You be there in the morning. Manana, si? The key is under the doormat. Make yourself at home if I'm not there. The mi casa es su casa bit, okay?"
"Not tonight?" He sounded so disappointed she almost laughed. She knew he really lusted after her. A professional stud, accustomed to service God knows how many women every night, was still turned on by her! Boldly she reached down and zipped up his leather jeans, but couldn't resist the temptation to run the sensitive tips of her fingers lewdly over the satiny head of his bulging cock. "Senorita, I don't even know your name!"
"Candy," she said. She looked around the smoky, smelly club. A new couple was on the chaise-longue. The girl, who was much more middle-aged woman than girl, had her fleshy, dough-white buttocks in the air and a perspiring Mexican boy was reaming her with his penis while she cried out in ecstasy and humped back to take more and more of his rigid thickness up into her rectum. His cum-filled balls smacked hard into the widespread crevice of her naked ass-cheeks and the nearly-silent room was filled with juicy, squishing sounds. Candy wanted to cringe, but knew she shouldn't show emotion. She was the impartial, disinterested spectator. She fished into her wallet and found a hundred-peso note and folded it into the palm of Pablo's hand. "I've taken a lot of your time. I'd better let you get back to work."
"I will quit if I can go with you tonight," he said gallantly, grinning lewdly at her. "We can begin the talking in your apartment right now."
"I have other things to do," Candy said. "Manana."
"In that case... " he shrugged. He looked down condescendingly with his dark eyes, his smile mocking and continued. "I do not know much about writing. But I know people. In my kind of work, one comes to know people."
"I suppose," she admitted.
"I would suggest something."
"Oh!" she knew he was going to play a grand trump card.
"I think we should fuck before we talk. Then we will be able to speak freely. Hasta luego!"
And before she realized what was happening, Pablo was gone.
Her speculation on his lewd but possibly practical suggestion was interrupted by the four men who bulled through the swinging door Of the club.
They were big men, with mean faces.
They had .45 Colt automatic pistols in their fists. One had a machine pistol slung over his shoulder. They spoke in Spanish so rapidly she could only understand a few words, but the young girl reported gathered that someone had not been paying "protection" and it was time to teach some lessons. The men quickly swept up the young studs along the bar and the women they were offering their bodies to, and roughly muscled them all into the reddish light which illuminated the chaise-longue. One of the biggest men grinned viciously as he used his steel-capped boots to kick the anally copulating couple from the plush upholstery.
Her heart pounding wildly in fright, Candy silently slipped under the table in the curtained booth. She probed into her tote bag for the Minox with a new super high-speed film - a film capable of taking clear photographs almost by starlight. She knew she was in the middle of something violent, something Leo Belcher would want. The Minox would catch whatever action took place... all she had to do was press the button and hope she could get out alive.
The guns scared her because it was obvious these four men were killers!
Crouching beneath the table, Candy brought the tiny camera to her eye, fixing the scene in the viewfinder. What she saw was the most horrifying thing she had ever witnessed - far beyond any nightmare she had ever dreamed!
For the big men had suddenly gone berserk - become blood-crazy, like wild animals!
Blood flowed as the invading hoodlums pistol-whipped screaming men and women indiscriminately, knocking them to the floor, kicking and stomping them with high-heeled boots. A figure suddenly darted toward the door! One of the men laughed, casually raised his gun and fired. Screaming, the bartender was thrown ten feet forward by the dum-dum bullet; he lay there clasping what was left of his belly as his fingers ran red with his blood.
The woman who had been on the chaise-longue just minutes before, sighing and squirming and groaning with lewd pleasure, was jerked to her feet by a huge hand that grasped her hair and pulled her up without mercy. Holding her screaming, twisting body, the attacker shook her like a dog might shake a cat, until her legs splayed wide. Then, like a professional place-kicker in a championship football game, he drove the sharp-pointed toe of his cowboy boot directly into the soft fleshy folds of her pussy with a terrible smacking sound.
Candy saw the boot-toe penetrate, splitting the unfortunate woman's pussy, ripping it apart until her blood gushed in a crimson fountain down her legs and onto the floor. She saw the woman's eyes roll up in her head in agony, saw her mouth opening and closing in screams so high-pitched they hurt the ears... and then the girl reporter pressed the shutter. The diaphragm opened for only one-thousandth of a second and the sadistic brutality was imprinted on the film. She worked the slide that advanced the film and aimed again.
Candy wanted to be wretchedly sick as she saw the woman's bloody body slump unconscious to the floor; the attacker's face was almost wild with pleasure at the hurt he had inflicted. Yet some instinct made her keep aiming the camera, pressing the shutter release and taking picture after picture as she crouched under the table in the curtained booth. The invaders were so taken up with their own brutal blood-letting that they never noticed the badly frightened young girl reporter kneeling outside the booth, taking pictures as fast as she could advance the film - and it was all happening so fast that Candy didn't have time to release her own feelings, or even assemble them. She was reacting, rather than acting of her own volition. This - whatever it was - could be a BIG story!
She caught a picture of two men holding the boy who'd been sodomizing the woman spread-eagled while a third jumped high in the air and landed with all his weight on the boy's testicles. She heard his shrill scream of agony before he fainted as his genitals were crushed to a pulp. One man went methodically from one frightened or unconscious stud to another, stripping them of valuables, while another emptied the cash register. She heard the moans and shrieks of agony around her, and only then did she crawl back out of sight behind the curtains of the booth and cower until she heard the heavy rapping of hard heeled steel-capped boots going away. A car roared to life and she heard wheels spin on the rough adobe of the unpaved streets.
With jelly-legs, she crawled out and made herself step over the sprawled, pain-contorted bleeding bodies to find the telephone. She spun the dial for the operator and screamed, "Please - Policia - the Brush Rabbit! A doctor and ambulances! Hurry!"
CHAPTER THREE
Then, with trembling fingers, she dialed the hot line of the Express. It rang a red phone at the city desk. The phone had never been known to ring twice before being answered. Candy knew she had a story, a violent story to tell, but it would take time to develop, find out who the madmen were, why they had come to this place and did what they did. All that early talk about "protection" and "teaching someone a lesson" made it much more than simple robbery - there would have been no reason to rough up the female patrons and kill the barman. The invaders obviously had taught somebody a lesson; but what that lesson was, and why they had to teach it, would take a lot of digging, and she didn't have time to dig! In the distance, she could hear sirens. She knew she had only seconds to blurt out the tip on the story. The night city desk could send down a task force of experienced reporters to dig, and she would do what she could - maybe dictate a first-person account of the violence and hand over the film cassette from the Minox.
"Candy!" she gasped when she heard a voice on the phone. "Tijuana! Brush Rabbit! It's a stud house... a bunch of men with pistols... killed the bartender. Maimed a woman with a kick between the legs... same thing with a stud. Pistol-whipped a dozen or more... took money... split. Cops coming now. I've got pix, but you couldn't use them!"
"Jesus H. Christ, Candy!" the voice said, "just what the fuck's going on down there!"
"Just what I told you!" she screamed into the phone. "I saw it happen... two minutes ago. Why, I dunno! I'll do what I can to find out. You better send a crew!! I'm in over my head. Oh-oh, the cops are here! For God's sake, send Joe Crow - this is his town!"
"Joe split for San Fran."
"Gotta hang up - here come de fuzz!"
Candy slammed the phone down and looked for a back way out as two uniformed policemen burst through the door, guns drawn. She was sure there was a rear exit, but had no idea of where it might be. Her mind whirled like the reels of a Las Vegas slot machine, and she suddenly realized that something like this, the Tijuana big-wigs wouldn't want publicity. She would be in big trouble if they found out she was a reporter - and had pictures of the massacre! Somehow, she had to preserve the film cassette and hide her identity... but How! She crouched behind the bar, listening to the cautious footsteps of the policemen as they moved into the club and gazed at the mass of maimed and moaning bodies on the floor at the far end, near the red-lit chaise lounge. She heard them uttering surprised words as they stepped through a puddle of blood and hoped they would be so busy looking at what they were already seeing they would not look farther for a minute or two. She worked the cassette out of the tiny camera. It measured only one inch by a half inch by a quarter. She thought about putting it in her purse, but if she was caught that would be the first place they looked. Then, instinctively, she knew where it could be safely hidden, and her face crimsoned in embarrassment. She wasted no time, and quickly slid down the zipper of her skin-tight slacks. Grimacing in shame, she probed up between her legs. In seconds the cassette had disappeared within the soft fleshy folds of her cunt and was nestled securely against the membrane of her maidenhead. Her pussy closed in over it and held it securely in place. She hoped it was moisture-proof.
That still left her with the camera. She had no pockets in which to hide it. She couldn't slip it under her sweater because her sweater hung loose over her slacks and it would immediately fall out on the floor. A possible solution came to mind. Using the thin chain which doubles as a restraint and range-finder for the Minox, she made a loop and clipped it to the barrette which held her hair back. Her long, taffy-hued mane tumbled over it to hide it. Only then did the girl decide she could reveal herself.
"They shot the bartender... " she said in a trembling voice. "Back here!"
She heard their feet moving quickly, and then the two policemen were coming back of the bar as she bent over the greying face of the barman, whose back and belly both had been blown away by the explosive effect of the dum-dum 45 slug. One bent over him and felt his wrist for a pulse and shook his head. The other asked her, first in Mexican, and then in English when she pretended not to comprehend, who she was and what she was doing there. Candy thought with great speed.
"I got lost. I was trying to find my way back to Avenida Revolucion. I saw the light here and came in to ask directions and I - found - THIS! I called for help."
"You know nothing more?" one asked. "You saw nobody? You heard nothing?"
"No." She knew it didn't sound convincing. She didn't think they would even think of letting her go her way. And Candy didn't want to. A story like this, on her first night on the job - she wanted to stay on top of it all the way. "I remember hearing a car... a powerful car. But I didn't see one. It must have been on the cross street."
"I must ask you to wait. Others will be here soon. El Capitan, he will wish to speak with you, senorita."
"Of course," Candy said.
The cop seemed to take it all as part of the day's work. Ignoring the moans and pleadings of the young studs who had been pistol-whipped and kicked until they could no longer stand upright, he reached for a bottle of tequila and three glasses and set them on the bar as he poured generous shots. He found a dish of lime wedges and a shaker of salt.
"If one must wait, one might as well enjoy it," he said. He saw the distaste on her face and smiled professionally. 'The ambulance and the undertaker will come soon. There is nothing we can do for these people. Senorita you would be wise to take something for your nerves. El Capitan is bad for the nerves. Muy malo!"
Grimacing, Candy wet the back of her hand, shook salt onto it, licked the salt, gulped the formidable shot of raw tequila in one gulp and then bit into the tart lime. The mixture hit her stomach like a bomb.
When El Capitan arrived, he was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders, a deep chest that narrowed to a sharp vee of a waist, and then practically no hips or buttocks. Long, sinewy legs were encased in tight black trousers. He had silver-trimmed boots. His face was the face of a hunting hawk, the nose slightly aquiline. His eyes swept the blood-splattered room, barely taking it in, it seemed to Candy. Yet she somehow knew that in two seconds he had everything pinned in place. Close behind him came white-coated ambulance men, and he waved them on to their work. There was a rapid exchange in Spanish between the tall man and the uniformed police, who pointed to Candy. He shot a volley of Mexican at her.
She understood, but something told her to pretend she didn't. She shook her head and gulped, "No comprende, senor... Norte Americano... no habla Espanol. Turista!" Turista!"
"I have some English," he said. "I am the subjefe, deputy chief of the federal police for the state of Baja California. Capitan Porfirio Fuentes. You saw what happened here?"
"No," Candy said, her throat dry. "I was lost. I came in to ask directions. And I found - this!" She swept her hand around and shuddered. "I looked for the phone, and then I had a hard time making the operator understand... and... oh God! I feel sick. I have to... to throw up!"
"Of course," the tall secret police officer said in a comforting tone. "There is a toilet in the rear."
Thankfully, the shaken girl went to the booth where she had been sitting, picked up her purse and started toward the toilet. As she walked, she flexed her cunt muscles, keeping the film cassette captive up inside the soft wet hps of her vagina, and was uncomfortably aware of the tiny camera bouncing against the back of her neck. She prayed she could keep it concealed until she was out of the cop's line of vision. Then the door of the smelly toilet was slammed shut behind her, and she had to face the immediate problem. If she left the camera concealed in her hair, there was a good chance she would be searched as a matter of routine if they decided to take her to the police station for questioning - and she knew there would be a lot of questions. Somehow, she had to hide the camera in an unlikely place, and keep it ready for action if the chance for more pictures arose. She thought furiously, and the only place she could think of was also obscene and humiliating to her, and would probably be painful as well. But she had no choice! She delved into her bag for the packet of condoms which were an integral part of every photographer's kit. She knew that many of her girl friends carried them in case they happened to meet a guy who turned them on and wanted to fuck safely, but Candy had very seldom had such an urge, and when she did, fought it down. The condoms were used to wrap exposed film cartridges, to protect them against the humid atmosphere until they could be processed in the lab.
Quickly she unrolled one of the rubbers and was happy to discover it was the lubricated type. Deftly she slipped the tiny camera into it and tied a knot in the end.
Then she bent far over, spreading her smooth round ass-cheeks with one hand. She pressed the long thin camera against the tight rose of her puckered anus and grunted in pain as she thrust past her protesting sphincter muscle, deep up into her rectum.
"Aaaauuuggghh!!!!" she moaned, fighting against the sudden pain and violation of her body. Her quivering young buttocks clenched, holding it in place, as she slowly straightened up and took a few cautious steps in the tight confines of the toilet. Her anal muscles gripped tightly around the unnatural intrusion in her back passage, and she thought of a story she had once read with fascination, 'The Story of 'O', in which the masochistic heroine was forced to wear successively thicker and longer dildoes in her anus until it was stretched wide enough to accommodate her lover. It had sounded unbelievable, a pornographic fantasy, but now, with the Minox thrust deep up inside her channel, she could feel her rectum expanding to accept it. She could move naturally. She braced herself and went out to the blood-splattered bar again.
"I hope you feel better, senorita," the police captain said. "Do you think you can give a statement?"
"I'll try," Candy mumbled.
'This place must be distressing to you," he said in a kind, understanding voice. "The police station would be equally so. If you wish, I have a comfortable place where you may be able to relax."
In any other circumstances, Candy would have rejected the suggestion. But she wanted to get away from the scene did not want to go to any stinking police station.
"Yes - anything but this!" she said impulsively.
"Do you have a car?"
"It's somewhere on Revolucion," she replied quickly. "I was trying to find my way back there when I came in and - and stumbled on this horror!"
"My car is in front."
With the camera grinding in her back passage and the film cassette grasped tightly between the fleshy lips of her cunt, Candy allowed herself to be guided from the club to the curb, where a Jaguar sports car waited. She hesitated as Fuentes held the door open.
"They must pay secret police very well," she said.
"The Policia Secreta de Federal is supposed to look like something else, as they say in your country," Fuentes replied with a flash of white teeth as he slammed the door on her. Then he was behind the wheel, kicking the powerful 12-cylinder motor to life and leaving a great cloud of dust behind him as he headed for the hills to the south, beyond the racetrack. The lights of Tijuana became like the sparkles of distant diamonds as the powerful car swept in and out of the turns, always heading south, five minutes later, the lean man skidded it through a gateway arch and braked in front of a huge, tile-roofed hacienda. He cut the motor and came around to help the voluptuous young blonde from the low bucket seat. Still numbed by the violence and death she had witnessed, but determined to keep up her facade, Candy Moss allowed herself to be escorted into the big house. Not surprisingly, the door was opened before they reached it by a white-coated houseboy who bowed to them. In rapid Mexican, Fuentes told him to put the car away and then go to bed - they were not to be disturbed. A tremor of anticipation shook Candy, and she tried to pretend she hadn't understood the words. Suddenly she remembered her press cards were still in her wallet - she had to hide them somehow! It was not hard to pretend another attack of nausea.
The secret police officer showed her to a bathroom. She locked herself in. It took only moments to remove the incriminating cards from her wallet, slit a seam in her shoulder bag and conceal them. She wished she could get rid of the camera as easily, but it would make a noticeable bulge against the soft leather bag. However, there was plenty of room in the little seam for the tiny cassette. She fingered it out from between the moistly heated lips of her pussy and worked it into the lining of the bag. She made retching noises over the toilet bowl, flushed it, and washed her face. In the mirror, she appeared haggard and distressed, which was how she wanted to feel and look for the moment. This was no time to look like Miss America.
Resolutely, she went out to face the man she had already classed as a suave, 20th-century version of torquemada the Spanish Grand Inquisitor.
"I hope you will forgive the unpleasant circumstances," he said as he handed her a tall glass full of some whitish drink in which ice cubes tinkled. "Candy - if I may be informal and call you Candy - you realize I must ask you questions. It is my duty to determine what took place, and at the moment you are the only one who was on the scene who is in a condition to talk. We can go into the library and there you will find the most relaxing surroundings."
The library was, the beautiful young reporter decided at first glance, half library and half seduction pit. There were thousands of books on shelves. There was a small fireplace where oakwood burned in low flickering flames, dispelling the coastal dampness of the early-morning hours. From some hidden source, soft music was piped in at a barely-audible level. The lighting was soft and dim, easy on her eyes. The principal piece of furniture was a leather covered sofa which looked as big as a king-sized bed. A small but well-stocked bar occupied one corner of the room.
"Come, be comfortable. That drink is an old family recipe," Fuentes said. "It has very little alcohol and is the most refreshing of libations."
She thought of Cesare Romero stepping out of a 1930's very campy old movie on the late-late-late TV, and like a neon sign the single word 'BULLSHIT' lit up in her mind. Candy only smiled and took a deep draught from her glass.
The sinister cop had told her the truth on at least one point - the drink was deliciously refreshing, although she didn't care for the licorice taste of it. But even so, her throat was parched and she drank the remainder quickly. Fuentes took the glass and built another. She watched him pour a pale green liquid from an unlabeled decanter and saw it turn milky-white when he added water. And then she knew!
Pernod... supposedly an aphrodisiac! Well, from her miscellaneous reading, she knew there was no such thing as a love-potion. Even the fabled Spanish Fly was only an irritant, made from some kind of beetle. It irritated the genitals and created a great need to have them scratched by a cock or anything else handy, but there was no such thing as a true sex drug! Even as she relaxed with the second drink in her hand, she could only wish there was a safe way of removing the camera from her painfully stretched rectum. It no longer hurt, and she could walk and sit naturally, but there was no mistaking its rigid presence. With the lights dimmed, Fuentes came to sit close beside her. From the look on his face, Candy thought that if his mustache was long enough he would twirl the ends like the villain in an old melodrama and leer, but he was being cool and handsome and charming in the best Latin fashion.
"Candy, it will be difficult for you, but please try to help me. Please tell me everything you did after you went into the Brush Rabbit and saw what had happened. Every move you made. Every small thing that might have caught your attention, whether it seems important or not," he said.
Candy Moss instinctively felt she was stepping into a trap, that this lean, saturnine man knew more already than she could tell him. He was playing with her like a cat with a mouse. She remembered a cat playing with a mouse once, long ago. The cat didn't kill and eat the mouse immediately. The cat played with it, and the mouse had courageously sat up on its haunches and tried to fight back. It had reminded her of a boxer in the ring, the way it had swung its tiny forefeet at the tormenting cat. The mouse had been courageous, but in the end, when the cat tired of the sport, one swipe from its sharp-clawed paw had ended the show.
Now she was suddenly feeling the exotic drink. She lay back against the soft, cool leather of the couch and told her story again. And again, and AGAIN! Never varying a single detail - and it was on the fourth telling that she realized her mistake. A person who has nothing to hide will not tell the same story exactly every time. Little things will be changed; an incident remembered in one version, another forgotten. She realized the secret police captain was looking at her almost with sadness as he shook his head.
"I am confused," he said when she had run out of words and he had placed a third drink in her unresisting hand. He shook his head. "I have been a police agent for nearly twenty years. I have questioned thousands of suspects and listened to hundreds of thousands of lies. Please believe me, I know when someone is lying."
"I believe you," Candy replied, suddenly aware that her tongue was thick and a lassitude had come over her body. The Pernod was apparently having its effect. "Why would I lie? I told you everything the way I remember it. Maybe the shock of seeing something like that was too much... "
"Oh, I am sure it was a shock," he said. "But you did not see it the way you claim to have seen it. You were there when it happened, and for some reason of your own, you are not telling me. You are a pretty girl. You will tell me, or you will not be a pretty girl. Comprende?" His voice had suddenly taken on all the menace of a whirl of rattles - angry, warning, cold!
Candy felt the blood drain from her face. She was the mouse, and the cat was ready with the roundhouse clout! She could only shake her head and watch the bored professional expression on his cruelly handsome face. He smiled thinly and sipped cognac from a snifter glass before speaking.
"Just one little thing. You say you entered, saw that there had been violence and people were injured, so you called for help. You would not have known where the telephone was, so you might have gone to several areas in the club looking for it. However, how do you explain the undeniable fact that your purse was on the table in a curtained booth thirty feet from the door -and a bottle of beer on that table, almost completely consumed, has your fingerprints on it!?"
"Oh, my God!" the confused girl blurted. "I honestly just wandered in, and this Mexican kid was trying to pick me up and it all started and... " Even as the words poured from her lips, Candy realized how she had been so easily trapped. Fuentes could not know her fingerprints were on that bottle - he had not taken her prints - and now he didn't need to! She had opened her lovely mouth wide, firmly inserted her foot, and bitten down hard! She realized he had started with nothing more than the observation of where her purse had been, and that there was a beer bottle on that table in that booth, and tricked her. The beautiful young reporter had to grudgingly admire his detective ability. She wondered if he already knew who and what she was. Possibly not. He certainly would have had a subordinate checking the identity she had given him through the San Diego police department - but a cursory check would not necessarily reveal the fact that she was a newspaper reporter, unless the cop who handled the query happened to know her. And fortunately, she had not been around long enough to get by-lines and be known. She knew the routine which the San Diego cops would check their criminal records, and she was clean there. They might send someone to inquire around her neighbors. But she had never told her neighbors she was a reporter. She was just another office girl, as far as any of them were concerned, and in San Diego, with its highly-transient population, few people are concerned with their neighbors unless the dog barks too loudly late at night.
That was fine in theory, but this cool Mexican cop had her nailed to the cross. For once in her life, she wished she had the abominable Leo Belcher to back her. He would know how to deal with this hard-case!
"I-I don't know," she managed to mumble abjectly, with a tongue which was getting thicker by the minute. She gulped more of her drink. "Yes, I did see it," she admitted. "But what I saw won't help you. There were four men - I think four Mexicans. They had automatics, and one had a machine pistol. They wiped out the place. I hid under the table in the booth. The boy who'd been trying to pick me up split just before it happened. I don't even know his name, but he was young, about eighteen. Handsome... virile."
"You knew it was a stud house?"
"Not until I got inside and saw what went on.
The boy offered to - to service me! For a fee!" Candy threw up her hands and laughed almost hysterically. "Now I do remember he gave me a name! Pablo. Just Pablo! I let him think he might come back to see me later... "
"I think I know your Pablo," the lean secret policeman said. "He is of no consequence." He smiled and continued. "I believe you have told me the truth as to what you witnessed. But one thing makes me curious - why did you lie? Why did you not tell me the truth in the beginning!" His eyes pinned her to the sofa. "You are not one of those who would say, 'I don't want to get involved' - something about you tells me you are one who wants to be involved in whatever is going on. Don't argue - it would be as hopeless for you to deny it as it would be for me to explain how I know this. Perhaps it is experience, or instinct, but it is there." He looked deep into her half-glazed eyes and said, "Tell me."
"There's nothing to tell," Candy mumbled.
"How many times have I listened to those words?" His fingers went to his belt and unhooked the heavy silver buckle. He drew it through the loops and wrapped it tight around his big hand. He slapped the loose end against his boot with the sound of a rifle shot and looked down at the fearfully cowering girl. There was no mercy in his eyes. He cracked the supple leather again and reached for her. "You will tell me whatever it is you are holding back. I confess I can't think what it might be, but there is something! I must find it - that is my job. I remind you you are a Norte Americano in Mexico. A guest in my country! If I should decide to place you in protective custody, in two or three years you might be able to speak to the American consul. Have you ever seen a Mexican jail?"
"Oh, my God!" Candy gasped. She had seen the Tijuana jail. It was worse than a dog pound! And she was sure the ones in the interior of the country, where this man would send her, would be much worse. She blurted, "Honest, there's no more I can tell you, Capitan! Nothing!"
"There is something you are holding back," he said. He slapped the shining leather belt against his hand-tooled boots again and looked down at her as Candy tossed her pale hair and tried to avoid his accusing stare. "I could put you in jail until you decide to tell me, and you would be uncomfortable. In spite of my profession, I don't like to make lovely young girls uncomfortable. Now, if you are secretly married, or you have a lover who would beat you if he knew you went to such a place as the Brush Rabbit, you have my word that nothing will ever be known. I am a civilized man."
"I have no husband... and no lover," Candy stuttered, her tongue now thick. She wondered if the crew from the Express had made it, and if so, what they had found out about the brutal massacre. She wished she could get the film to them. She wished Leo Belcher could see what she was going through now in the name of Fearless Journalism! She looked up at the domineering figure abjectly and managed to say, "I have no one."
"I will not put you in jail - that would take too long."
"Thanks a bunch!" she retorted bitterly.
"I could beat it out of you with this belt, Candy."
"That takes a lot of guts," she spat, anger rising in her, bringing words she never used to her petulant lips. "You spic prick, drop that belt and take off your boots and see if you can take me hand-to-hand!.I give you eighty pounds and long arms and over a foot in height and I'll still break your damn neck in five seconds. Come on! Try me! You Goddamn gay caballero! Gay! Damn queer, I think! Flip pin' sadist! Come on! You have any balls? Enough balls to try whipping a hundred-ten-pound girl in a fair fight? And, you big son of a bitch, all I want is you just use your hands and your feet. And take time to give your soul to God, because I'm gonna have your ass!"
The obscenity of her language shocked her, and for once she was glad she had been exposed to the vulgarity of Leo Belcher and the Express city room. The words meant nothing to her, but to hear them spewing from her virginal lips must shock the hard-nosed cop. And it was all a bluff - she could hardly swat a fly, and her bag with the hairspray can which might blind him long enough for her to make an escape was far beyond reach.
Fuentes threw back his head and laughed in genuine delight. "What is the saying? 'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak'? I think it is." He shook his head, and his face showed amusement at her predicament. "Candy, I will not beat you. I will not put you into one of our depressing jails. But I will get the whole story from you."
"I have nothing more to tell you, greaser," she muttered.
"Greaser!" he mocked her. "Another of your misplaced gringo words. You must have been reading pulp Westerns. A Mexicano does not grease his hair. That is for teenagers," His eyes laughed at her. "I know exactly how to get the truth from you. And in a way we both will enjoy."
"I can't wait to hear about it," she said with a sneering curl to her sensuous lips. "Tell me!"
"I am going to fuck it out of you," Fuentes said calmly. "I am going to take you to my bed and fuck you until you beg me to stop, and then you tell me everything I want to know." He smiled almost paternally. "I give you my word if you tell me what I have to know, you will be returned to the border untouched. If you don't, I will have to fuck it out of you."
"Go ahead!! Rape it out of me - but there's nothing to tell you," she said defiantly. "And there's no point to talking. If you're going to use this friendly persuasion technique on me, get on with it." Curling her lip, she added, "And enjoy yourself, Capitan, because I assure you, I won't."
She was the mouse and he was the cat, but he was a gentleman-type cat, she thought. He did not brutally drag her to the big bedroom with the massive oaken beams in the ceiling and the mirrors on the walls and above the bed. He escorted her with barely the touch of his fingers against her supple back to guide her in the right direction. Her entire body tingled in anticipation of what was about to happen. She had never imagined that the first time would be in such circumstances - she could write an entire novel based on it and never sell it to a publisher because it was all so unbelievable! He showed her the adjoining bath, which was complete with bidet and dressing room. Candy realized what she must do even as Fuentes was busy in the next room undressing and sliding between the silken sheets of the huge bed. She ran the water in the basin and flushed the toilet and while the noise was going on, she bent over and pulled the rubber condom containing the tiny camera from her anus. She used the rubber to tie it to the ironwork which surrounded the shower stall, then covered it with the plastic curtain.
Candy paused to consider herself in a full-length mirror. She saw a beautiful body, with high, wide-set breasts, a tiny, taut waist, richly swelling hips, flowing thighs and delicately sculpted calves. Her fingers trailed through the soft curly hair of her pubic mound and sought out the tender flesh of her cunt-lips. She was wet there! The excitement of what was inevitably going to happen to her had triggered her glands and she was already well lubricated. Her lushly ripened body would be able to absorb the sadistic cop's rampant cock... maybe even enjoy it. She knew some women enjoyed being raped, and there was always the old joke about if it's inevitable, lie back and enjoy it!
She would have to try!
One thing she promised herself. She would not crawl and beg. She would submit because she had no alternative, short of disclosing her true purpose in being in Tijuana, and if he knew she was a reporter that could lead to things much worse than being screwed. Tossing her golden mane and tousling it with her fingers, she resolutely strode into the huge bedroom, her proud young breasts bouncing, legs scissoring ass-cheeks clenching. She purposely halted for a moment, looking down at Fuentes as he lay naked on the silken sheet, his long cock thick and throbbing as he waited for her. She read the animal desire in his nearly-black eyes as she rose on her toes and stretched, making her full firm breasts even more prominent on her lean-muscled body.
She forced herself to say the ugly words in a casual way. "You said you'd fuck it out of me. Well?"
He pulled her down to the bed, rolling her onto her back. She let her legs fall apart, splaying wide, awaiting the sudden impalement of his huge pulsing cock. She tried to make her body go limp, so that he would enter her most sensitive flesh with a minimum of pain. She really didn't know how such a huge thing could penetrate her tight virginal cunt without ripping her apart! He seemed to be even bigger than Pablo, but she had never actually seen Pablo's penis, only felt it. But this cop's rod of rigid flesh was truly enormous, standing straight out from his lean body like the trunk of a tree, topped by a huge blood-swollen head that glistened with pre-seminal fluid. The mere sight of it abruptly terrified her, and suddenly all her bravado deserted her. With eyes wide, she whispered a plea.
"You're so big... if I could tell you any more, I would! Honest!" Abruptly, the young girl reporter wanted to escape; she writhed on the bed, cringing away from the menacing penis. "Capitan, I - I've never... I'm a virgin!"
"You are telling me more lies," he said, his eyes laughing at her as he bent over her nakedly trembling young body. But he moved his hand, and his fingers eased between the wetly heated lips of her dilating pussy until he found the obstruction of her maidenhead. The amazement was easy to read in his eyes, and he muttered, "No, you are not telling me a he! I would never believe it if I didn't feel it! Well, we will soon take care of that problem!"
"I guess that's inevitable," Candy sighed. She spread her legs wide, until her thigh muscles hurt, and then, with the tips of her fingers, parted the soft-fleshed hps of her cunt. She looked squarely into his dark, hot eyes and coldly said, "Do it if you must. Go ahead... rapist!"
"No, no," Fuentes said, bending over her and kissing her eyes and ears, his tongue flicking over her face. "I have had perhaps two thousand women - and never a virgin! I told you I would fuck the answers to my questions out of you. But in this extraordinary situation, I will love them out of you!"
Candy tried to repress a soft moan of pleasure as his mouth closed over hers and his tongue slipped between her wetly parted lips as his fingers strayed over the pulsing flesh of her young, eager body. She wanted no part of this, but her sensuality betrayed her. Her love-starved body wanted his bold caresses, her mouth wanted his delving tongue. Against her will, she found herself moving close to him, yielding, involuntarily - as if her hand had a mind of its own - reaching down between his legs to grasp his huge penis and hold the hot hardness of him. His mouth moved slowly down, his tongue licking her excitedly tingling flesh, until his lips closed over her right breast and began to suck even as his fine white teeth nipped the rising bud of her nipple. With an urgent sigh, she squirmed against him, sliding a leg up between his hard-muscled thighs until she could feel his wiry pubic hairs rubbing against her wet flexing cunt as she grasped his rampant staff in her lewdly-exploring fingers. She could feel the fleshy foreskin sliding back and forth over the bulbous head of his cock, and she wanted him in her!
NOW!
"Ooooooooh! My God!" she gasped as his warm wet mouth moved lower over her trembling belly and his tongue teased the soft curls covering her pussy mound. Then it was moving down the ultra-sensitive flesh inside her wide-splayed thighs, and she could feel his hot breath on the moistly flowering lips of her cunt. She made herself look down between the valley of her full young breasts and could only see the top of his head as he licked and sucked at the salty perspiration of her body. From the way he was panting, she knew he was doing something he wanted to do - and she wanted him to do.it, to never stop! At that moment, she would have revealed herself to him. The only thing that kept her from it was the thought that once he knew what he wanted to know, he would stop making love to her in this wild, delicious way!
Now his mouth was moving up again, kissing first the soft inner flesh of one spreading thigh, then the other, until, after an eternity of tantalization, his breath was flowing warmly over her defenseless vaginal furrow. He blew softly into her pussy for endless minutes, his wet lips only a fraction of an inch away. And then he raised his head for a moment, and his eyes found hers.
"You are so beautiful, Candy."
Then his hands spread the hps of her cuntal furrow wide and his head dipped and she felt the wet searching tip of his tongue wriggle like a snake the full length of her quivering young vagina, swirling around the excitedly rising bud of her clitoris.
CHAPTER FOUR "Ooooohhhhhhh... God!" Candy cried out in wanton surrender as his tongue slid far up her cuntal passage and his wetly heated mouth closed tight over her wildly excited vagina and began to suck. She arched her back and thrust her hot little cunt up to his lewdly-licking tongue.
Despite the young blonde girl's shock and instinctive revulsion, she could not help herself as she responded to his delicious oral rape of her virginal pussy. She spread her trembling thighs wide, and then impulsively clamped them tight around his head as her hands-moved to lock in his dark hair and jerk his face and tongue even tighter to her loins. She rolled and tossed on the bed, her mind a turmoil. She was revolted by what she was doing by what she was so eagerly joining in. Yet it was the most sensational thing she had ever experienced! She knew the cop had not lied when he bragged that he would fuck everything he wanted to know out of her! For the insane, obscene pleasure he was giving her, she would do anything! She wished he would mount her and shove his thick, iron-hard shaft of flesh deep into her eagerly quivering cunt.
She realized that if he rose over her and brought his thick penis up to her salivating lips she would suck it deep into her mouth without hesitation, just as the girls were doing in the pictures she had seen that time in the book store! She moaned, "Oh, your mouth... your tongue! Wonderful... so wonderful... I've never... done... this!"
"And I have never had a virgin," Fuentes said softly as he raised his glistening face from her loins for a moment. She saw her own cuntal juices shining on his mouth and chin, and the lewd spectacle intensified her desire. And then he went down again, his eagerly-licking tongue tantalizing the stiff button of her clitoris as she thrashed in passion and her legs locked tight around his head. Again and again his tongue, long and hot, speared up into the very depths of her virginally young cunt, swirling and probing and tasting her female secretions. His hand moved under her wildly churning buttocks, grasping the soft naked hemispheres and raised her pussy up to his devouring mouth as though he were holding a sacramental cup. Candy gasped as she felt his outstretched finger trace along the wide-splayed crease of her sweating buttocks and nudge the tight rose of her anus.
And then it was working inside her there, forcing the tight rubbery ring of her sphincter muscle open until it was in her to the first knuckle. God, it felt so wonderful up there - the entry being eased by the lubricant she had removed minutes before.
"Aaaauuuggghhh!" she moaned, trying at the same time to lift away from the unnatural intrusion - yet her body wanted it so badly that she found herself grinding her naked ass-cheeks down on the finger as her anus flowered open! She felt it swirling in her back passage, stretching her rectum as his devouring tongue danced like the wings of a butterfly up and down the wide-stretched furrow of her wetly pulsing cunt. She cried out and jammed her tight little anus down hard on his extended finger even as she thrust her pelvis violently up to his hot hungry mouth. She managed to groan, "Fuck me... oh, PLEASE FUCK ME!!!!!"
"I will accommodate you," Fuentes said as he raised his head, a mocking grin on the lips which were wet and glistening with her liquid passion. "When you tell me what I want to know!"
"I've told you all I know!" Candy cried out in a burst of frustrated anger. "Goddamn you! Don't you know the truth when you hear it! You didn't believe I was a virgin, but you felt my cunt and now you believe! You've got me to where I'm begging you to FUCK ME! No man has ever put his tongue up between my legs and in minutes you turned me into the most... most whorish thing I can imagine! Oh, God forgive me!" She writhed and tossed in torment on the bed under his mocking dark-eyed gaze, and in a pitiful tone pleaded again, "Porfirio, please fuck me! PLEASE!"
He rose over her, stroking the massive length of his lust-hardened cock, running the thick foreskin back and forth over the blood-swollen purplish knob. With his other hand he cupped the heavy scrotal sac, rolling his sperm-filled testicles between his fingers. As she reached out to touch him, he drew back, grinning lewdly.
"What if I should tell you to suck it?" he asked. "Would you take it in your mouth? Lick and suck?"
"I'll do anything," Candy murmured in abject subjugation, and realized it was true. The thought of allowing this stranger's penis between her lips was revolting, but she was beyond reason now, willing to submit to any degradation if only he would slide his thick, iron-hard rod of flesh into her passionately yearning pussy! She wet her lips tentatively. "I'll suck you!"
With a soft, taunting chuckle, he moved up over her, straddling her nakedly heaving torso so his thighs were pressing on the sides of her breasts and the blood-engorged head of his long turgid cock was only inches from her face. Gasping, the shamelessly aroused young blonde grasped it in both hands and found her delicate fingers would not close entirely over its throbbing tree-like girth. She pumped it urgently, watching the fleshy foreskin roll over the swollen, mushroom-shaped head, before she guided it to her lips and her tongue gluttonously slipped out to encircle the ridge, licking at the salty preseminal fluid which made it glisten. Her lips pursed into a soft wet oval and captured the tip, and she sucked furiously, trying to draw him deeper into her mouth. She wanted this warmly pulsing penis fucking up into her belly, but if he would only allow her to have it in her mouth, she could do nothing but accept what he was willing to give! She swirled her tongue over the hot, rubbery softness of the cock-head, trying to drive her tongue into the tiny hole at the tip, her lips hollowing as she sucked with a rapidly growing expertise. She thrust her face eagerly forward to his loins, but even as she did, he pulled back, so she could barely keep the huge throbbing head between her avid hps. Moaning in frustration, she tried to grasp his hips to hold him immobile while her hungry young mouth devoured him.
And then he jerked back, freeing himself from her wild wanton oral attack.
"You... bastard!" Candy cried out in frustration.
"You wanted to fuck," Fuentes said calmly, taking his massive male member in his hand and waving it tantalizingly inches from her open hps. "I was not sure. Now I am! I will fuck you. Tell me - have you ever sucked a prick before?"
The casual, clinical way in which he asked the question shocked Candy Moss back to reality, and she felt the blood rush to her face. She managed to shake her head. "No... I have never done... done any sex things!"
"I'm going to fuck you," he said in a matter-of-fact way. "When we have fucked, you will be begging to tell me what I want to know." He smiled lewdly. "But because this will be your first fuck, I have decided to make it something for you to remember." His fingers trailed over her nakedly voluptuous body, teasing her erect little nipples, then sliding down over the soft swell of her belly to the "vee" of her womanhood. Candy, despite her revulsion at the position in which she found herself, could not help but undulate her hips in a wanton response to his fondling. She moaned and opened her legs wide, offering the plateau of her loins for his ravishment, eager for it to happen, and quickly! If he didn't ram himself into her hotly yearning pussy soon, she would scream and claw him! He was kneeling between her legs, aiming the massive shaft of male flesh at her widely-dilated cunt. As if mesmerized, she watched the huge plum-colored cock-head move toward her defenseless little slit. She felt the slick throbbing warmth of his penis against the sensitive inner flesh of her thighs - and then it was pulsing against the moistly waiting portals of her pussy. She could feel her virginal cunt flowering open in readiness for the impending impalement on the thick rigid spike of his passion.
In her eyes, his powerfully jerking cock was enormous. She could not imagine how her tight, unused vagina could ever absorb it - yet she wanted its throbbing hardness desperately! She writhed and jerked her pussy up toward him, felt the hot round tip of his penis pressing through the fleshy outer lips of her eagerly yearning pussy. She sighed and lay back, waiting for the thrust which would send the thick pole of flesh deep up into her virgin cunt, split her maidenhead in one furious lunge and fill her trembling belly to the hilt! She tossed deliriously on the bed, splaying her nakedly trembling thighs wide in the lewdest possible way, and reached between them to grasp the hot rock-hard length of his cock. The heavy sac of his cum-filled balls draped over her trembling hand, and she could feel her wetly throbbing cunt flowing in anticipation, readying itself for what was to come.
Candy gasped as he lowered his virile body slightly and the bulbous cock-head pressed into the hair-lined opening of her tight little cuntal passage. He hadn't even come close to touching her hymen yet, and it already felt like she was being split apart as her vaginal lips, glistening with her lubricating fluids, parted to admit the rampant shaft of rigid flesh. As he moved over her, gently forcing his thick penis through the tender lips of her stretched young cunt, she could feel the heartbeat at the tip of his hardness. Tantalizing her, he began to rotate his hips over her, so the bulging head of his cock slid around the gaping wet mouth of her pussy, opening it even further for the impalement to come. Moaning in frustration, she grasped his cock hard and tried to pull it into the seething cauldron of her cunt.
"Fuck... oh FUCK MEEEEE!!!!" she pleaded. "NOOOOOWWWWWW!"
"Have you no pride at all, my little whore? Begging me - a 'greaser' - to fuck you? I am truly surprised."
For a long moment Candy was silent. The young blonde reporter could feel the hot rubbery bulge of his cockhead spreading her yearning pussy lips, and she wondered, Why does he have to degrade me so? She looked up into his cruelly-laughing eyes and hated him as she had never hated another person in her life. Not for what he was, but for what he was making her become. Even the foul-mouthed Leo Belcher had never made her so furious!
"I beg you... FUCK ME!" she moaned, feeling a black wave of shame wash over her. "Fuck meeeeee!"
"If you wish," he said casually.
She felt his lean, long body tense, and the flexing of his huge cock at the portal of her virgin cunt. Then, with a quick twitch of his hips, he rammed the searing-hot head of his cock through her maidenhead and held himself steady above her as her naked young body writhed under the cruel, sudden rupture of her hymen. She screamed and her legs flew wide in reaction to the excruciating pain, then her thighs compulsively locked around his hard-muscled body.
"Oooohhh... aaauuuggghhh!" Candy cried out as she felt the trickle of blood from her ripped hymen ooze through the soft lips of her cunt and down the wide-stretched crevice of her splayed buttocks. She had heard of virgins who never felt a thing the first time because they had long ago had their barrier split while riding horses or bikes or doing calisthenics, but this she felt! To the very roots of her being, she felt the iron-hard penis jerking mightily as he flexed it, still barely inside her tight young cunt! She wondered how Fuentes could hold himself still poised over her while the hot sheath of her vagina engulfed the head of his cock! Surely now he would fuck her, wouldn't he? She began tensing and relaxing her cuntal muscles, experimentally - feeling her most sensitive flesh beginning to adjust to the thick invading shaft. Soon, it seemed that his flesh and her cunt had both become fused into one through some mysterious alchemy.
"You like it," he said confidently.
"I love it!" the helpless girl moaned, and realized she was telling the truth. She found her naked young body undulating of its own accord, the eager lips of her bleeding pussy sucking at the intruding mass of male flesh. She wanted it to fill her, to plunge into her hot, demanding depths... and he was still teasing her. "GET INTO ME!!!!!" she cried out in desperation, grasping his hard-muscled buttocks, trying to pull him deeper into her yearning flesh. "Oh, God! I need to be fucked! If you only know what this torment feels like!"
"I have been told what it feels like!" he said coolly.
With one cruel lunge then, he buried his hotly throbbing cock to the hilt in her trembling flesh. The young American girl cried out sharply as the Mexican policeman's massive cudgel ripped into her quaking body, sending ripples of pleasure-pain ahead in her cuntal passage. She felt as if she were being impaled on a thick, oaken handle as his massive hardness split her pussy wide and his cum-laden balls smacked wetly against her wide-stretched ass-cheeks.
"Aaaaaiiyyyeeeee!!!!" Candy cried out as a savage wantonness that she had never suspected took control of her nakedly straining body. Her legs flailed and then locked tight around his driving hips, and her arms circled his muscular back, the nails at the end of her curling fingers sinking into his flesh so hard and wild that they drew streams of blood and she panted, "Deeper, deeper... hard as you can... FUCK MEEEEE!!!!"
She barely heard the man's obscene chuckle as he began to fuck in and out of her, each stroke pulling the soft tender pink flesh of her cunt out past the tightly grasping lips of her pussy. Urgently she strived to match the passion-crazed movements of her body to his as the pain of her violated vagina turned to pure pleasure. She found that it was impossible to believe she had eagerly taken his long hard cock into her mouth and been frustrated when he pulled it from her avidly-sucking lips... but this was so much better! It was so wild, having his thick wonderful penis in her like this that she was glad he had denied her. She jerked and twisted and thrashed and clawed him, already feeling the moment of ecstasy approaching when her loins would gush as they never had before. With all her strength, Candy fucked her supple young body up to the stiff invading penis that was like a white-hot poker in her tightly-clutching pussy.
And then, without warning, he stopped drilling into her. He rose above her until only his bulging, mushroom-shaped cock-head remained buried in the soft wet folds of her cuntal lips. He was looking down at her passion-contorted face with amusement. God! How she hated him! And God! How she needed him!
"More... more... MORE!" the girl pleaded wantonly. "For God's sake, FUCK ME! You can't stop now!"
"I'm getting tired," he said teasingly.
"You bastard!" she moaned. Bracing herself against the bed, the beautiful young reporter took her weight on her shoulders and planted her feet hard on the yielding mattress. She thrust her frustrated loins up to him and felt his long hard penis sliding up into her cunt once more. Urgently she began to fuck up at him as he held himself completely motionless in a push-up position above her. Contorting herself wildly, the naked blonde girl managed to screw herself up the length of his rigid shaft of flesh until she again felt his testicles smacking against the sweating cheeks of her widespread buttocks. She groaned in pleasure as she savagely ground the throbbing button of her clitoris against his pelvis. Incoherently, she began to chant, "Aaaaa... ooooohhh! Yesssssss... Fuck... Fuck... YOU BASTARD! FUCK!"
Laughing, the Mexican secret policeman obliged her, no longer holding back. He reached under her to cup her nakedly straining ass-cheeks and pull her up to him as his thick hot cock began to fuck in and out of her demanding little pussy. She felt the pain of his strong fingers pinching into her insanely throbbing buttocks, and with the pain, her orgasm began! A hot flood of juices flowed out from deep in her loins, and an uncontrollable spasm shook her voluptuous young body as the head of his long hard penis rammed mercilessly against her cervix and the swelling base of it stretched her young, untried cunt unbearably wide. She thrashed and moaned and bucked under him.
"I'm cuuuuummmiinnnggg!" she cried in a wildly exhilarating combination of passion and pain.
The climax swept through her convulsing body like a tidal wave! She knew he had been right - he could have fucked the truth out of her! Moments before, when she was lying helpless under him, and he was teasing her by just letting her feel the tip of his wonderfully throbbing cock in her yearning vagina, she would have told him anything if only he would fill her as he was filling her at this moment. But now it was too late for him... she had reached her climax, and he had nothing more to offer. She felt his hardened penis swelling, becoming thicker and longer, and then the savage jerking of his body over her and in her, and the hot, searing spurts of his cum flooding her milking young cunt.
The naked young girl reporter gloried in the moment, knowing that in the end, the woman always wins; that the male, rampant though he may have been, is reduced to no more than a spent salmon. Yet this knowledge did not detract from her own enjoyment of the experience. She had finally been fucked, and she could not imagine a mate better than the one who had initiated her... at least on a physical level. She loathed him as a person, but his body, his technique - learned with how many girls like herself? - was magnificent. And she knew, from the satiated look of him, that she had played her part well too. She could still feel her cuntal muscles tightening rhythmically around his slowly-softening cock, milking him. She relaxed and let her arms slide from his back, and was shocked to see blood on her fingertips and the palms of her hands.
"No woman has ever marked me before," he whispered intently as he saw the wet redness. "I will carry your scars through my life."
She looked up into his half-angry eyes and said, "No man has fucked me before."
"Then it is a small price that I pay," he said, shrugging.
He raised from her; long, white tendrils of cum linking her ravished little cunt to the head of his now-soft cock. He bent over her, his head going down between her wide-splayed legs, and his tongue licked her clean while she undulated slowly beneath his oral caress. Then he moved to stand silently by the head of the bed, his long flaccid penis glistening with the mingled juices of their orgasms.
For a moment Candy didn't know what the secret policeman expected, and then she realized. After all that had happened, his unspoken wish didn't revolt her. After all, she reasoned, he gave me pleasure! She reached for his dripping penis and guided it to her moistly parted lips. She began to lave it with the tip of her tongue, savoring the rich juices of her release and his. She sucked his penis into the warm wetness of her mouth, her tongue slowly encircling the tender cock-head. She felt it twitch between her tightly-pursed lips and realized that she found nothing unnatural or revolting in what she was doing as his virile flesh began to grow hard again under her oral loving.
She was shocked a few moments later when he pulled it from her wetly sucking lips, and she looked up at him with the hurt of rejection showing in her eyes.
"Am I doing it wrong?" Candy whispered pleadingly.
"You are beautiful with your mouth," he said. "Such soft lips... and tongue... and you have never sucked a prick before!" His slender, well-manicured fingers framed her anxious face. "I can get hard... I am almost hard already... but it is impossible to cum again so soon. And you want me to cum in your mouth, in your beautiful mouth, yes?"
"Yes," she murmured after a long minute, realizing it was the truth. She wanted to taste him, drink his hot creamy sperm, feel it gush down her throat and spill like liquid fire spreading throughout her belly. "I want you that way."
"Then you will have to wait," he said, grinning down at her as he brushed the soft, warm rubbery head of his cock over her glistening lips. "In two or three hours, you may go to the fountain and drink even more deeply than you imagine... but for now, I suggest we sleep."
Despite her wanton desire to suck him, she realized he was telling the truth, that this handsome, sadistic man had no need to lie to a woman. He could make any female his love-slave. How long had it taken him to conquer her, break through the barrier of years of puritanical restriction? A matter of an hour or so - and she had found herself the most wanton of whores! She had begged him to fuck her, she had eagerly taken his huge cock into her virgin pussy and into her soft warm mouth. Candy knew that anything Capitan Porfirio Fuentes wanted from her, he could have!
And she hated him for what he had made of her!
She hated herself even more for wanting to be what she now knew she was... the worst of sluts!
Then, suddenly, she remembered who she was and why she was here!
What had the night city desk at the Express done about her frantic phone call? By now, they must have a team on the scene. They should have routed out one top general assignment man, two or three legmen to cover and feed in disjointed bits of information, a couple of photographers. The editor of one of the Tijuana newspapers was on the payroll as a stringer. He would be tapping sources otherwise unavailable to an Anglo. If this was as big as she thought it might be, the slot man on the copy desk would have already ripped a big hole in the front page of the bulldog, the first edition that hit the street at 9 a,m., with maybe one or two, three or four - column pix, and inside, on the jump page, more pictures and story.
Damn it! This was her story! She could tell it like no one else. And there was no way for her to get through to the desk!
Or was there? Someplace in this big house, there had to be a telephone. The deputy chief of the Policia Secreta Federal would surely have one - perhaps several. All she had to do was find one. Call the Express first, spill out her story and let the rewrite man handle it. Then maybe retrieve her camera and somehow escape. She felt Fuentes fitting his lean body to hers, taking her in his arms.
"Porfirio," she whispered, "I have to go to the toilet."
"You know ,the way," he murmured indolently.
She slipped out of the huge bed, catching a multiple reflection of her sex-drained body in the multiple mirrors. Surprisingly, she looked no different than she had an hour before when she had come to the big bed as a virgin! A dim light showed her the way. She caught her foot and almost fell over the mound of his clothes. With a neatness that had been bred into her, she picked up his jacket and shirt and trousers and placed them over the back of a lounge chair. She felt the cold steel of a pistol, and the heaviness of a shot-loaded sap and she thought, "My God -he's a fool! He brings me here and makes me a whore, and leaves weapons like this around! I could kill him right now!"
But she knew she couldn't do it. She could no more put a bullet into his drowsing head than she could flap her arms and fly! She cursed him silently for his aggravating self-confidence. The self-sure bastard hadn't even bothered to close the shutters over the tall windows while he subjugated her, she realized as she looked out to see a pale melon-wedge of moon and bright stars in the clear air. More angry at herself than Fuentes, she padded into the huge bathroom. She used the toilet and then the bidet, and finally decided to take a shower. She stood under the stinging spray and soaped her cum-streaked thighs and buttocks, her eyes fixed on the tiny camera protectively encased in the condom as it hung from the fixture.
Candy determined that she would somehow get those pictures across the border. But how?
As she dried herself with a fluffy towel, wincing when the pressure of it touched the inflamed lips of her ravished young pussy, she began to formulate a plan. She knew she would have to force herself to carry it out - but hadn't she forced herself to not only endure but enjoy things that only a day before would have revolted her?
She padded back into the bedroom, her sensually awakened body tingling with anticipation. Capitan Porfirio Fuentes snored softly, satiated by her own body. Silently she found the sap in the pocket of his trousers. It was about eight inches long, flat, with a leather-covered piece of spring steel for a handle, and a heavily-weighted bulge at the end. There was a loop of leather thong at the other end, and she grasped it tightly as she slipped her into the worst of wantons, and now decided to take her revenge, however fleeting it might be. She snuggled up to him, and her free hand reached for his warm soft cock and began to stroke it. She played with the loose foreskin, rolling it back and forth until he slowly awakened.
"You've been asleep," she murmured in his ear, her tongue teasing it. "A long time. Can you cum in my mouth now? I want you... want to swallow your cum."
"Oooohhh," the cop moaned, jerking his hips to her grasping fingers. "Not yet... I must rest... "
"Sleep tight then you bastard," she whispered lovingly.
Savagely she slammed the sap against the back of his head. He grunted and went totally limp, and for a moment Candy was afraid she had killed him.
But then his breathing resumed. Trembling with excitement, she leapt from the bed and quickly pulled on her clothes. Two minutes later, she was prowling the house, looking for a phone. She knew there had to be one.
There was... and when she found it, she was frustrated again. It had a lock on the dial. Somewhere, he must have a key - but she was afraid to return to the bedroom to go through his clothes. She remembered he had left the key in the Jaguar. If she could get to it, find her way to downtown Tijuana and a public phone, she could call the Express and that way make contact with the reporter-photo team which would be swarming over the sin city by now.
Belatedly, she remembered the camera. She could not leave it and the film cassette behind. Slipping her shoes off, she silently padded up the stairway to the bathroom and retrieved the camera and its obscene sheath. Fuentes was groaning and beginning to move on the bed.
She fled. The gearshift of the Jag was unfamiliar to her, and she crunched the stick shift clumsily until she found a light switch which illuminated the interior enough for her to see the pattern of the box. After that, there was no problem, except that she felt the powerful car was going to run out from under her at any moment. She fought the wheel on the steep road, sliding into turns broadside, barely recovering control before a tree or another curve loomed ahead in the brilliant lights.
"Sweet Jesus, what a night!" she breathed, and then she laughed out of the sheer exuberance of the young. She had won! And now to collect her just reward...
CHAPTER FIVE
"I will take much delight in killing that motherfucker," a voice had said earlier from beyond the window overlooking Fuentes' bedroom. "But I must admit he is fucking her well."
"Muy bien!" another voice whispered. "Son of a whore! He has her begging to let him suck his prick! See how hot she is to have it in her mouth. I want to be in her mouth!"
"In time, Juan, in time," another voice said. "Is his car fixed?"
"I myself punctured the gasoline tank with my knife," Juan reported. "It will run a few miles. And it will stop, and we will have him."
"What of the girl?" a new voice asked.
"Oh, we fuck her... and then we cut her throat."
"It will be a wasted pussy," Juan said. "We should keep her and fuck her. She likes to fuck. When we tire of fucking her, we can sell her. There is nothing to be gained by killing her. Who might she be? Why would a girl like her be in a place like the Brush Rabbit?"
"Who knows? Perhaps she wanted that boy Pablo to fuck her. Norte Americanos are crazy.
The women in particular."
As they clustered together and coldly discussed the situation, Candy could be seen running from the house and sliding into the Jaguar. A moment later, its powerful motor roared into life, and it fishtailed away from the rambling house.
"Go after her," the leader said. "You will find her on the road, out of gas. It will be easier if she comes willingly."
Two of the leering Mexicans loped toward Honda trail bikes, the big 350 cc models, and kicked their motors to life. Within minutes they were riding down a steep trail, without headlights, riding by the light of the moon across country to intercept the road which Candy had to travel.
They came down the mountain, onto the paved road and far ahead could see the lights of the car and the girl getting out to lift the hood in a futile attempt to find out what had suddenly gone wrong. They switched on their headlights and gunned the bikes toward her.
Candy saw the swaying headlights and for a moment, a jab of fear penetrated her heart. She knew what bikers could be! But after what had already happened to her, what more could they do? And they might be perfectly nice fellows. She had read that only a tiny number of those who rode motorcycles were outlaws. Most of the bikers were perfectly good people. She straightened and waved her arms for them to stop.
The lights swung, pinning her, and she was suddenly conscious of the way her unfettered breasts filled her thin sweater, and the way her hips and fully rounded buttocks strained her slacks. Well, there was nothing she could do about disguising her body now. She watched the two stride toward her, smiling, confident. They didn't seem to be thugs.
"Americano, senorita?" the one in front asked.
Candy mumbled that she was.
"We have English," he replied. "Your car is not well?"
"It won't run," she said.
"We will look."
As she stood back, they took a cursory glance under the hood, and then the one who had spoken looked into the interior, tried the starter and shook his head.
"You are out of gas," he announced.
Candy couldn't believe it. She remembered glimpsing the fuel meter when Fuentes had led her to the car. It had shown nearly a full tank. Yet now it unmistakably said it was dry. She felt helpless.
"Senorita, we have no gasoline," the Mexican said. She was suddenly aware that he was tall and lean and very handsome - and that he was looking at her with undisguised lust. She knew she could not give him a fight if he attacked her. He could throw her to the ground and fuck her without fear! And he looked capable of doing just that! In the darkness behind him, his friend was standing, legs spread, thumbs hooked in the heavy belt of his jeans as he rocked back and forth on his high-heeled boots. "We do have a compadre who lives not far from here, and he has gasoline at his rancho. He would be happy to bring some for you. If you will ride with me on my machine... "
Candy knew she had no choice. She was no longer afraid of rape. If that was what this towering young man wanted, he could have done the job on her already. She thought that perhaps he thought of himself as the classic Latin lover, a male who could make any female quake and beg for his cock! Well, let him think so! She could see the unmistakable pole of flesh hard against the fly of his jeans, and for a wild moment wondered how it would feel in her, and then thrust the lewd thought from her mind.
"You're very kind," she said, pulling her shoulder bag with the Minox and the precious film cassette from the car. "I don't know how to ride a motorcycle. Please don't go too fast."
"You just hang on to me. Lean with me," he said.
With a swagger, he went to the Honda and kicked it to life. He put down the pegs and motioned to Candy to straddle the narrow seat behind him. She did, placing her feet on the pegs. She wrapped her arms around his strong body as he dropped the bike into gear. She almost cried out as it seemed to leap from between her legs. She clasped him urgently, burying her face against his broad back, and heard him kick the bike through four gears. The throbbing power of the machine vibrated up through her loins, and she felt her excited young cunt becoming wet just from the contact with the leather seat.
"Oooooooooh!" she moaned? and held him tighter. She felt an insane desire to reach down low and grasp his cock! But she forced herself to do nothing more than cling to him like a leech as the snarling bike, with the other close behind, climbed into the hills. She gasped in surprise as he leaned it into a tight turn and broadsided into the driveway of Fuentes' hacienda! Her body felt like a bowl of jelly, and she could only cling to him as he cut the big motor and eased out of the saddle.
Right back where I started! Candy realized. Her mind was whirling. Would these two bikers be more of Fuentes' secret police? It could be. She had thought he might have somebody around to back him up. Well, she could expect a bad time. He would not think kindly of the way she had hit him with his own sap. He would make her pay.
Trembling, her legs like jelly, her loins churning with desire from the hot vibrations of the motorcycle, Candy let herself be led to the heavy oaken door of the hacienda. She could not think clearly. All she knew was that she must somehow preserve her camera and film. And somehow she must quench the wantonly burning fire in her cock-hungry loins. She had never realized just how much of an animal she was until this moment. If one of the bikers had paused long enough to pull his penis from his tight pants, she would have done anything just to be able to touch it. She would have knelt and eagerly taken it into her mouth and sucked and kissed and licked it. She had heard of young girls who rode cycles because it got them so hot - others who actually orgasmed as their pussy scraped against the leather seat - and now she could understand that.
Yet they seemed curiously disinterested in her. She had to know more about them. She framed a question in her mind.
"Are you from the Policia Secreta Federal?" she asked.
For some reason, this touched off an outburst of laughter. She saw them sliding flat automatic pistols from the saddlebags of their cycles. The one with whom she had ridden roughly led her to the door. He tried the latch and it opened. They went in like a raiding party, guns ready, dragging her behind. They seemed to know the layout, for they pulled her up the open stairway to the second floor.
"Arriba, El Capitan!" the dominant one said, grinning.
Fuentes was sprawled on the edge of the big bed where Candy had surrendered her virginity.
He held his head in his hands. The left side of his face was discolored, and there was a swelling knot of purplish flesh behind his ear. Candy guessed she had really laid one on him with the shot of loaded sap. His pain-filled eyes pinned her and he spoke one loathing word.
"Puta!"
After the way he had used and abused her and tantalized her, taken her knowing she was a virgin, it was too much for her! Hadn't she even taken the hot thick hardness of his cock into her ; innocent lips and given him pleasure? She had, \ and now he called her whore. She saw the other two looking curiously at her. They were obviously waiting for her reaction to the insult. She did not keep them waiting long. She stepped up to the policeman, cleared her throat noisily and spat in his face. Her spittle dripped down his aristocratic nose. For good measure, she struck him with the back of her hand with all her strength, as fury consumed her. Again and again she hit him, and was trying to kick between his wide-open legs when the bikers pulled her away and slammed her down into a chair.
"We were watching... we saw what he made you do," the leader said. "Or did he make you do it? Are you an innocent girt? Or another of his putas?"
"I never saw him until tonight," Candy mumbled. "There was some trouble - in a stud house. I didn't know what kind of a place it was... men came in... they shot the bartender and beat everyone... I hid. And then he came with the police and brought me here."
"We heard," the big one said. "You do not know this hombre? You do not know what he is?"
"He said he's a supercop," Candy said.
"He speaks the truth. He is also a big dealer in drugs and women and anything else that is worth dinero. Which is not to be held against El Capitan, because one must live as well as possible. But he uses his position to drive all others out. Senorita, this is a matter of business, and not a personal thing, you must understand."
"You are going to kill him," she said dully, feeling a bottomless pit of terror growing in her belly, Oh God! They were... and she knew they were.
"Perhaps... perhaps not. But he is going to learn a lesson which he will never forget, if he lives." The Mexican grinned lewdly. "And you will help us teach him."
"I - I don't understand," Candy whispered.
"You have perhaps heard of the Chinese water torture. They place a man under a dripping stone. The water drips constantly on his forehead. Now, that can not possibly hurt one. But it will drive one mad. And the Arabic death of a thousand cuts. Now, such a thing can hurt one." He grinned, showing fine white teeth under a dark mustache. "In Mexico, there is a more refined and pleasurable torture. Would you wish me to explain it?"
"You're going to anyway," Candy said, not caring, only wondering how she would be able to make her escape.
"It is something the conquistadores devised. A man is taken naked and bound to a stake. A suckling calf is turned to him. The calf is hungry, and he knows only the teat of his mother. He cannot find his mother, but he can find something like a teat. He sucks and sucks and... you understand?"
"Oh, my God!" the shocked girl murmured. She could picture it.
"You will be our calf," the Mexican said. He turned to his companion and rattled off something in a dialect which Candy couldn't understand. But she saw the dazed and terrified Fuentes pulled roughly to his feet and shoved down the stairway, while the one who had done all the talking pulled her along behind. She was forced to watch as Fuentes' wrists were bound and he was pinioned to a wall of the big room below. In the States, it would probably be called the parlor or living room, but she was not sure of the word in Spanish. But it was a vast room, with high, beamed ceiling, a fireplace large enough to roast an ox, coats of arms and crossed swords on the thick stone walls. There was a chill in it now, which was quickly dispelled as one of the captors started a blaze in the fireplace. With growing horror at what she knew was to come, Candy saw him lay the tip of a wrought-iron poker in the building flames. The other pulled a cushion from a sofa and carelessly dropped it below Fuentes' suspended form. The secret police chief spat defiantly at him and hardly winced as the hoodlum viciously rammed a fist into his belly.
"For you," the man said to her. "A tile floor is hard on the knees."
With revulsion, Candy realized for the first time what the pair had in mind. They were going to make her kneel and suck Fuentes' penis endlessly, until the softness of her mouth became exquisite torture and he broke and gave them whatever it was they wanted. Just what that was she could not be sure of yet. They had made no demands. Perhaps they were only seeking revenge for past events. She realized that the Latin mind was beyond her.
The poker was beginning to glow an angry red. The tall one pulled it from flames and spat on it. She heard the sizzle as he advanced toward the spread-eagled body of Fuentes. Lightly, the crimson tip touched the nipples of the helpless man's chest, and then probed for an instant at his navel. She smelled seared flesh and retched violently, trying to look away. But the agonized scream of the secret police officer compelled her to open her eyes and watch as the torture began.
The shocking brutality, the obscenity of it almost drove Candy to the breaking point. She saw the blisters come up, first red, then turning a sickly white, on his body as Fuentes, apparently with a great reserve of strength, remained conscious as his torturers fired question after question at him.
They were interrogating him in some sort of bastardized Spanish, so she could only pick up a few words, but enough to catch the drift of the questions. It appeared they thought Fuentes had intercepted a shipment of heroin and hashish destined for the Los Angeles market. Had he turned it over to the government, they would have understood and not taken offense. But he had evidently appropriated it for himself, and was moving it through the Brush Rabbit with the help of the studs, like Pablo, who used their sexual prowess to persuade love-hungry American housewives to carry a small package across the border.
Clearly, it was a case of no honor among thieves.
Candy, translating as best she could, guessed the dope which Fuentes had ripped off was worth some twenty million dollars on the street. If he could deal that big, it was easy to understand this magnificent hacienda and the Jaguar... and also why the bikers would be angry with him.
She got the impression that he could not tell them any more than he had already confessed... and that was obviously not enough to satisfy them. The poker, now white-hot, was tracing angry red lines over the smooth olive skin of his tight-muscled belly -and not actually touching him! The Mexican who wielded it was obviously an expert - he could keep it a tiny fraction of an inch away from the flesh, so the heat seared and burned, but without making firm contact which might give so much pain as to make his victim unconscious and unable to talk!
After all, dead, men, or men who are unable to speak, cannot give information.
Sick to her stomach, she watched the smaller man lift the long, thick, but now-flaccid staff of Fuentes' penis, and the white-hot iron held so it lay just below it. She saw the tender flesh begin to blister, and smelled the acrid burning of his pubic hair. She heard the policeman's high-pitched screams of agony and the beautiful young reporter believed the pair must be mistaken - that Fuentes was innocent - or at least innocent of what he was accused of! No man could take such torture without yielding up any secrets he might have.
Apparently the torturers came to the same conclusion, for the big one angrily threw the poker into the fireplace and spat at it. He jabbered at his companion in their own language, and then turned to Candy. He spoke in stilted English.
"Senora, it appears we fail, and so we must ask you to persuade this stubborn man. You will be the suckling calf. You will drain him of his manhood... and if you fail, then perhaps, as he is a gallant hombre, he would prefer to talk rather than see the iron on your lovely flesh."
"Oh, my God!" Candy gasped. They couldn't think of such a thing! But they were thinking of it, and she knew they would not hesitate to carry out their terrible threat. In panic, her eyes darted as she sought to spot some means of escaping. With terror increasing until her legs were trembling violently, she realized she was as much a captive as the policeman - that her fate, like his, had already been decided.
"Get naked!" the leader commanded. His tone of voice said he would not tolerate disobedience.
Abjectly, Candy undressed. Slowly, fumbling with her fingers, she bared her torso, and her full white breasts sprang free of her sweater, the nipples rigid and elongated by fear and by the sensual arousal of seeing the nakedly helpless cop hanging from the wall. She watched their eyes dilate at the sight of her young, firm bosom, and fully expected them to immediately fall on her and rape her. Yet they made no move. She forced herself to unzip her slacks and peel both them and her panties down over her rich-swelling hips. She stepped out of them and, with all the determination she could muster, turned to face them, a tanned, tawny-haired goddess. Her eyes said she would do whatever she had to do to survive, but that no matter how vile or degrading, it would not touch her.
"Now what?" she said defiantly.
"Get down on your knees and suck his cock," the leader said. "When he cums in your mouth, you swallow it and keep sucking him. Suck and suck and suck until he can't stand it and he talks! And if you don't suck hard enough, there is the hot iron ready." He grinned salaciously. "You are very pretty... and we have nothing against you. We will even let you go when this is done. But it must be done. The more dedication you give to your task, the more pleasant it will be for all. It is only that this son of a whore has tried to rob us, and we do not wish to be robbed."
"You make it all sound so damned reasonable!" Candy blurted.
"GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND SUCK HIS PRICK!"
Knowing she had no choice, the taffy-haired girl slowly walked to where Fuentes was suspended, the ropes cutting into his wrists. She looked into his pain-seared eyes and thought she read a silent apology there, for getting her into this terrible situation. With a sigh, she dropped to her knees in front of him. She gasped when she saw his penis closely. Although the iron had not touched it, it was swollen from the heat, the skin blistered. Despite what he had done to her, she felt compassion for him. Her delicate fingers reached out to touch him, and she heard him gasp in pain at even such a gentle contact. His scrotum was swollen to abnormal size, the hair singed from the wrinkled sac. She tried to imagine the agony he must be enduring in stoic silence, and wanted to ease it. She still loathed him for what he had done to her, but he was suffering more than enough to atone for his sin.
She had nothing to offer except the soft wetness of her lips and tongue - and that was what the two hoodlums were demanding.
So she would give him her mouth.
Tenderly, she lifted his penis and began to lick the length of it, making him glisten with her saliva. She could taste the seared flesh on the tip of her tongue as it swirled up and down the length of the rod of flesh which, to her astonishment, was beginning to swell and thicken. The kneeling young reporter heard him moan, but whether it was from pain or pleasure she didn't know. She opened her mouth wide, covering the fine white teeth with her soft, moist lips, and sucked his scrotum into the soothing wetness of her oral cavity. She heard him moan softly, either with pleasure or because her tightly-enclosing mouth was like a soothing balm.
His cock grew longer and thicker and harder between her lips, and she was amazed that, severely hurt as he was, he could still respond to her oral ministrations.
Candy realized that now she could fully repay him for the debasement and humiliation he had forced her to endure. She wanted, with one part of her mind, to savagely bite down on his painfully throbbing penis, and rip it with the sharp edges of her fine white teeth. Surely he deserved, richly had earned, any pain she could inflict upon him. He had no claim to mercy. She wanted to hurt him with all her heart, yet she could not bring herself to do it as long as he was so completely defenseless. She could hear the lewd chuckles of the Mexican bikers as they watched her mouth work, ballooning out with every downstroke, then her cheeks hollowing as she sucked back until only the blood-swollen glans remained between her lips and her tongue salaciously swirled around the velvety-soft blunt head. She could see the saliva-glistening rod of hot flesh engulfed by her straining lips, could feel the tickling of his pubic hair against her mouth every time her head plunged forward, and the soft thumping of his semen-heavy scrotum against her chin. He was groaning and jerking forward to her avidly-sucking mouth, burying the throbbing tip of his massive penis in her throat. Her tiny hands reached out to grasp his clenching buttocks, and pull him even deeper into her mouth. She heard the wet, sluicing sounds of her lips sucking him, and the naked young girl began to forget the leering men who were watching her suck this Mexican policeman's hotly pulsating cock. She was conscious only of the throbbing maleness in her mouth, how thick and iron-hard it was! Her tongue swirled wildly around the ridge of the glans and delved deeply into the narrow slit at the tip, and she drew on it eagerly, like a fat straw.
She wanted more than anything for him to cum quickly in her mouth, let her drink the hot, thick maleness of his sperm, gulp it down into her churning belly! She assaulted his rod with even more vigor, moaning in wanton desire as she felt an obscene excitement from the image of what she must look like, nakedly down on her knees, her mouth filled with his cock and her hands urgently pulling his pelvis even tighter to her greedily sucking lips. She forgot everything but the virilely heated penis throbbing in her mouth. The lewd slurping sounds coming from her wetly sucking lips aroused her to greater passion, and she began to twirl her head from side to side with each gulping bob of her blonde-tressed head.
"Uuuuuummmm... ooooooohhh... aaaaaauuuuggghhh!!!" the passion-wracked girl reporter moaned around his long rampant penis as her fingertips moved to cup his blistered scrotum. She raised her eyes and saw that he was no longer feeling any pain, was aware of nothing but her sweetly sucking mouth. Then, almost before she realized what was happening, he arched his back and shoved his pelvis forward. The motion drove his long thick penis to the hilt between her tightly ovalled lips, so far down her throat that she gagged... and then he was cumming! The fiery gushing of his semen almost choked her until her spasming throat muscles began to gulp down the steaming white lava of life that spewed from the volcano of his loins. Her taste buds tingled at the richness of it, and she moaned and sucked furiously, her tongue making eager circles around the mushroom-shaped glans as she pulled the entire spurting length of him into her avid lips and sucked furiously, not caring what she looked like or what might happen to her. All she was interested in at that passion-filled moment was draining his wildly jerking loins of every delicious drop of his cum.
"Keep sucking," one of the bikers ordered. "We have a treat for our amigo Fuentes." He laughed lewdly and turned to his companion and said, "El Capitan is a cat fancier. Go to the small building outside and bring two cats. Two very hungry and very mean gatos!"
Not comprehending what was in the man's mind, but sensing her only hope of survival lay in doing what they obscenely demanded, Candy Moss remained on her knees, her lips softly ovalling the head of Fuentes' penis while her tongue licked the velvet-smooth glans. She was afraid to open her eyes. She was afraid to do anything except accede to whatever they demanded of her. Slowly she laved his throbbing maleness. And then she heard an angry yowling sound. Frightened, she pulled her devouring mouth away and looked over her shoulder. One of the Mexicans had returned - and he was carrying two of the hugest cats she had ever seen! They were spotted, snarling as the man held them expertly by the loose skin above their shoulders, and she realized these were ocelots, the beautiful wild cats of Latin America. She could not imagine what role they were to play in this vile drama.
"Suck his prick! Make him hard again!" the leader ordered.
Abjectly, Candy returned to her task. With all her newly-learned skill, she laved the gradually growing penis until it was again iron-hard between her lips. Now she kept her eyes open, covertly watching what was taking place around her. She watched one of the men slip a thin rawhide thong from a pocket of his jeans and finger it, grinning in anticipation of whatever it was he planned. He moved to stand over her as she drew on the growing rod of flesh with her lips and worked over the bulging head with her tongue. He looked up at the painfully suspended Fuentes and grinned evilly.
'The Americano girl is a fine cocksucker, el Capitan," he said mockingly. "You came very hard in her beautiful mouth. Now speak quickly, you son of a whore. This is your last chance to tell us what we want - your last chance as a man, that is. Speak."
The secret policeman opened his mouth as if to reply and then spat into the leering face. The Mexican seemed to have expected such a reaction for he only grinned and shrugged.
"Well, I hope you enjoyed cumming in her mouth, because it was the last cum you'll ever have!" he said, chuckling. "You, Anglo puta! Keep sucking!"
Moaning and shuddering in fright, the terrified girl obeyed, drawing the rampant staff deep into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she licked furiously at it. Then her eyes went wide as the Mexican's hands moved with a deftness that blurred his fingers. It seemed to take him only a second to encircle the sac of Fuentes' testicles with the rawhide and draw it rigidly tight with a jerk that brought a shriek of agony from the helpless cop.
"No, no!" Fuentes screamed, only then realizing what was about to happen. But even as he was screaming, the Mexican pulled a razor-sharp knife from his belt and made one quick slash over the policeman's groin!
Before Candy's horrified eyes, she saw his hand come away, the bleeding scrotum and testicles cupped in his palm.
"Gatos!" he called out in triumph, and threw the severed balls on the floor even as his partner, who had been holding the two wildly squirming ocelots by the scruffs of their necks, dropped them. "Cojones para los gatos!"
Snarling, the two infuriated cats leaped on the bleeding scrotum. They fought for Fuentes' balls, fangs bared, big paws slashing at each other. Their blood-hungry yowls filled the room, and Candy felt she was going to faint. She had never imagined such a barbaric spectacle. She realized Fuentes' penis was still in her mouth, and she let the now-soft tip slide wetly from her gaping lips. She looked up and saw that mercifully, he had fainted, although a low moan of agony came from his slack lips. At the place where his virile scrotum had hung there was now only a raw stump, with cords hanging from it, secured by the tight-pulled rawhide thing, yet still oozing blood and what she surely thought was semen.
One ocelot triumphed, driving the other away. It crouched over the egg-shaped testicles, its sharp fangs sinking into them as it chewed and swallowed ravenously.
"Auuuuugggghhh!!!" Candy cried out, then doubled over and became violently sick. The bile filled her mouth and her belly clenched and spewed its contents uncontrollably. She managed to focus her glazed eyes on the two men and blurted, "Monsters!"
"He will live, he may even fuck again, but never cum," the leader said in a casual way. "And now, you Anglo bitch, you are going to tell us some things. Or we will let you watch us practice with our knives on your lover." He laughed wildly. "And he is not going to be much of a lover for you now - unless you will be satisfied with his tongue!"
Candy groaned, wishing she could die. She knew these brutes would do anything to get her to tell them what she couldn't do about Fuentes, because she knew nothing at all about the man.
She wondered how she could ever escape from this nightmare.
CHAPTER SIX
Her body exhausted from the spasms of vomiting, Candy managed to rise to her knees, and then beg to be allowed to find and use a bathroom. The smaller of the two guided her through the rambling hacienda, apparently familiar with the layout of its many rooms. He showed her to a toilet and made sure the high window offered no hope of escape. He took up a position outside the open door. Candy splashed cold water on her face and found a bottle of strong mouthwash in a cabinet and gargled until the foul taste was gone from her throat.
When she was led back to the big room, she saw with dismay that two more leather-clad cyclists had joined the group. Their hot, dark eyes gleamed at the sight of her naked body. She forced herself to look through them as if they did not exist, even when one reached out to pinch the jiggling half-moons of her buttocks. Fuentes had been unchained from the wall and was now lying handcuffed behind him on the floor. His eyes were glazed with pain and he seemed unable to talk coherently. She was not sure he recognized her. The one who seemed to be the leader was thinking as he spoke, and his words came slowly enough for Candy to understand. He believed Fuentes had hidden the hijacked narcotics someplace on the premises, and that there was a good possibility a large sum of American dollars would be there too, hoarded against an emergency.
"I don't give a shit about money now," one of the newcomers, a burly, low-browed youth said. "I want to fuck that blonde cunt!"
"We have all night," the leader said. "Make her suck you off - she's wild with her mouth. While she does one of us, the others will search."
"I have found something valuable already," another said, sliding back a wall panel and disclosing a fully-equipped bar. "Real Scotch whiskey!"
They laughed and the bottle was passed, each drinking with slobbering lips from the neck. Then they began to match coins to see what order they would take as they forced her to submit to their carnal desires.
The heavyset one emerged the winner. He swaggered to a sofa, flopped down on it and, unbuckling his heavy jeans, pulled his cock out and began stroking it to hardness. The mortified Candy watched as the thick, loose foreskin rolled back on the swelling tube of flesh and the purplish head popped into view. She saw the dark threading of veins on the massive instrument. It appeared to her terror-filled eyes to be longer and thicker than Fuentes' had been - and that had nearly choked her!
"I can't," she protested weakly. "It's too big!"
"Get down on him!" the leader ordered. He backed up his demand by hitting the taut globes of her naked buttocks with the flat of a calloused hand. Candy cried out in shock and pain and stumbled forward. He slapped her again and pushed her to her knees. Grabbing her tousled hair, he dragged her moaning across the floor to where his compatriot slumped grinning on the couch, fondling his long hard cock in anticipation. "Suck him good!"
Fearfully, the beautiful young newspaperwoman reached out to touch the blood-swollen rod of flesh. The loose skin moved smoothly over the hot rigidity of it, and she watched the tantalizing way the foreskin rippled over the bulging, mushroom-shaped head. The Mexican reached out, his fingers closing on the back of her slender neck, and pulled her fear-contorted face down to his lewdly-splayed loins. She tried to compress her lips and turn her head away, but his grip was like steel. There was another stinging blow to her quivering ass-cheeks, and as she cried out in pain, the Mexican lunged upward and the hot, velvet-smooth head of his lust-thickened penis plunged between her wet hps, sliding far down her throat. Her unhinged jaws ached from the hugeness of him - she thought her tightly ovalled lips would split. He held her head down on him, fucking his massive shaft to the base in her straining mouth. She heard the others chuckle as she tried to gulp for air. The totally demeaning picture she must present to their lewdly leering eyes filled her mind, and with it came a strange illogical pleasure that bordered on masochism. She knew this was the sort of thing she would never do if she had a choice. But she had no choice - and secretly admitted to herself that subconsciously she had wanted to do just this ever since the day she had seen the obscene magazine!
Moaning in a mixture of despair and pleasure, the naked young girl began to work her soft lips up and down the rigid spear of his manhood, encircling the blunt, rubbery tip with her tongue, tasting the richness of his preseminal fluid as it pearled at the tiny hole in the head. She drew on it as hard as she could, spearing the curling end of her tongue avidly into the hole. She began to drive her lips eagerly up and down his long throbbing cock, and her slender fingers eagerly clutched the heavily-laden scrotum, playing wantonly with the hot spheres under the wrinkled skin. She forgot the hot-eyed watchers, forgot everything but this great shaft of flesh that was distorting her beautiful face. Her pale mane of hair tossed wildly with the increasing dipping and rising of her head. She was beyond herself, a complete wanton woman, revelling in this wild excursion into the realm of oral sex.
Under her wetly sucking lips, the Mexican writhed, jamming his lust-hardened cock up to her lust-contorted face, spreading his legs wide. Candy squeezed the semen-swollen balls urgently, and ran the middle finger of her other hand along the sweating crease of his wide-splayed ass-cheeks. She felt him jerk when the tip of her outstretched middle finger found the tight rubbery hole. She probed at it until the resisting sphincter muscle yielded and she was able to penetrate to the first knuckle. As if she had done it many times before, she began to work her slender digit around, spreading his anus, gradually sliding deeper into the hot, moist passage until her exploring finger was buried to the hilt. Then she began sawing it in and out, faster and faster, stroking in time with the plunging of her savagely-sucking mouth. The slapping of her palm against his naked ass-cheeks was wetly audible in the room. She abruptly rammed a second finger in beside it, heard him gasp at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes glazed. All she could see was the thick shaft, like the trunk of a tree, disappearing into her tightly-compressed lips. The sensation was so overwhelmingly erotic and obscene that she forgot the castrated man who lay in agony a few feet away.
She felt the boy's hotly throbbing cock getting even thicker and harder, and his balls drawing up to his body, and knew he was going to cum in her eager mouth. Candy ravenously sucked and licked, wanting him to come, to spill his rich, hot sperm into her laboring mouth and thus fill her trembling belly. The sensitive tips of her full sensuous breasts felt as if they were on fire as her wildly-bouncing torso came in contact with the Mexican's hard-muscled hairy thighs.
"Dios!" he cried. "What a blow job!"
His heavy hips began to jerk up to her wetly ovalled lips, and suddenly a great jet of white hot jism filled her ravenous mouth. Candy swallowed compulsively to keep from choking on his sperm as it gushed over her tonsils while the great length of his wildly jerking shaft of flesh continued to ram deep into her throat. Her soft, wet lips held his ejaculating penis prisoner, not wanting to let a single drop of the precious fluid escape. She sucked and licked until there was no more.
Exhausted, flushed with passion, she slowly let it slide from her wide-stretched oral cavity. Thin strings of whitish cum linked her passion-swollen lips to the glistening cock-head as she drew back. The strings finally broke like fragile cobwebs and she eagerly dropped her head to his loins and licked them up.
"Man, I've never had my prick gobbled like that before," he said, grinning at her lewdly. "For an Anglo bitch, you have one hot mouth!"
The vile obscenity of his words barely penetrated. Still kneeling, Candy looked around. The others had their cocks out now and were salaciously eyeing her as they slowly pumped them to rigidity. The thoroughly-satiated Mexican was closing his pants and getting to his feet.
Another took his place. Without hesitating, Candy grasped his hard maleness and bent her head, her lips open wide, tongue flicking over the bulbous tip. She drew it far into her now-experienced mouth, moaning softly in the anticipation of pleasure. All she wanted was cock and more cock in her mouth. She wanted her belly bloated with their sweet, hot cum!
They did not disappoint her. She lost all track of time, all count of how many times she fellated them. It seemed there was always a ready penis. She was dimly aware that, satisfied she was wildly out of control and their slave to do as they wished with, only one remained in the room with her at a time, while the others roamed through the house, searching for booty. Finally a point was reached when she discovered that no matter how deftly she used her lips and tongue, none could reach an erection.
And without the urgent, throbbing hardness to lave and suck, the abandoned blonde gradually returned to a semblance of sanity. Shame began to flood her nakedly trembling body, and she was suddenly aware that it was cold in the big room, that goosebumps were rising on her golden flesh. She shivered as she got unsteadily to her feet and looked at them with dulling eyes.
"I'm cold - I've done what you wanted -Can I have my clothes now?"
"Looks like you were doing what you wanted to, blondie," the leader said. "Put your sweater on. Nothing else. I don't think you'll be trying to run away from here bare-ass."
Unable to meet his lewdly-mocking gaze, Candy found her sweater and pulled it over her head. She was glad it was long. Yanked down hard, it came as low on her swelling, perfectly-sculpted hips as one of her minis, covering the soft golden hairs that guarded the pink outer lips of her passion-drenched pussy.
She was aware of the way the sweater hiked up over the smooth twin melons of her buttocks when she moved, but there was nothing to be done about it. She doubted any of the men would have thoughts of forcing her to submit to more sex immediately. Trying to appear casual, she went to the bar and poured whiskey into a glass, then added soda from a siphon. She gulped half the drink immediately, almost choking on the liquor. She was aware that it was sluicing the salty taste of their mingled cum from her mouth, and now that she was rational again, was glad of it. She asked for a cigarette and one of them gave her a strong Rivalo and snapped a match. She inhaled the smoke deeply and took stock of the situation.
Evidently their search was a fruitless one. They had found no narcotics, but several thousand dollars had been yielded up from a hiding place. They were debating other likely places to look, and it was apparent the sheer size of the hacienda, with all its possible stashes, was baffling them. As they talked, they began to drink more and more. The liquor, more expensive and powerful than the beer and wine to which they were accustomed, was hitting them hard. Candy estimated an hour passed before they were reeling, bleary-eyed and mushy-tongued. They hardly took notice when she slipped from the room and padded on silent bare feet through the house to a rear room where she remembered seeing French doors opening on a tiled patio.
It took her only minutes to slip from the house. She hid in shadows, and after several sprints from one clump of shrubbery to another, she was at the border of the spacious grounds. Which, she suddenly realized, got her really nowhere. She was miles from Tijuana, high on the side of a range of foothills. Her only covering was the inadequate sweater. Barefoot, it would be impossible to walk to the city lights tantalizingly winking at her. Even if her feet were tough enough, they would surely discover her absence and come roaring after her on their fast cycles.
So that left only the machines themselves. Their highly-plated hardware and expensive paint gleamed in the waning moonlight. Hurriedly she ran toward the Hondas. She discovered the one on which she had ridden had the key in the ignition - and even that was no help. Candy had never been on a motorcycle until this night of horror! She tried to organize her thoughts. Well, she had ridden a bicycle - a motorcycle couldn't be so much different, as far as balancing and steering went. Of course, she had no idea of how to start the motor, shift gears or use the brakes and clutch. Furiously, she tried to remember movies and TV shows in which motorcycles figured. It gradually came to her that there were foot pedals on either side, one the gears, the other the brake. A lever on the handlebars she thought was probably the clutch. Well, fiddling with it would tell her.
But even if she had the skill, she couldn't dare start the machine here. They would be riding her down in seconds. However, the road was downhill, and there was enough moonlight to see. With sudden decision, she straddled the cycle and rocked it back and forth until the kickstand snapped up. Then, clutching it tightly between her legs, she weavingly steered it out the drive, quickly getting the feel of its balance. Cautiously her feet felt the levers. She pressed down with her left foot and heard only a clicking sound. So that was probably the gearshift. Her right foot experimented and she felt the rear-wheel brake slowing her progress.
So far so good. Keeping the brute to a slow pace, she let it roll until she was well over a mile away, and out of view of the hacienda. She stopped and twisted the key. A green light came on above the speedometer. Using her toes, she flicked the shift up and down. The light went out and Candy decided it was probably the indicator for neutral. She squeezed the clutch handle and worked the shift again and again until she thought she had it mastered. She jumped on the starter shaft as she had seen the Mexicans do. The big motor roared, and she found that by twisting the handgrip on the right she could control the amount of gas it got.
Her heart jumping wildly, she idled the motor down and slowly released the clutch. The bike almost ran out from under her but she hung on grimly, jabbing at the brake until she had it more or less under control. She had no idea what gear it was in, nor did she care. It was enough that it moved.
The cool pre-dawn wind whipped at her, making the outer lips of her tight little pussy clamp together to protect her vital secret flesh, even as the vibrations of the motorcycle almost immediately began to heat a new fire in her loins. The soft sweater billowed up over her smooth belly and bared her naked ass-cheeks as she hunched over the handlebars, pale hair blowing wildly in the wind. Straddling the snorting machine thrilled her. Gradually she fed it more gas and its thunder roared up between her grasping legs and spread throughout her belly. The motor was warming her calves and sleek thighs. She became overconfident as she leaned the cycle into the turns.
Suddenly a big car, moving fast with only parking lights, appeared around a bend. There was plenty of room to pass, but the inexperienced girl panicked, grasping the handgrips hard. Unfortunately her fingers were closed over the lever that controlled the front brake. The bike nosed down abruptly, its rear wheel lifting from the pavement. Candy was catapulted from the machine. She seemed to float through the air for an eternity before landing with a jarring thud in a patch of roadside brush which scraped and scratched her nakedly hurtling body, but cushioned her spill. The wind was knocked from her, but she found she could move her arms and legs even as the big car was skidding to a stop a short distance beyond. She saw the figure of a woman jumping out, running toward her as she managed to pick herself up and comb her hair back from her face with shaking fingers and pull the short sweater as far as possible over her tapering thighs. She breathed raggedly.
"Good God, girl!" the woman blurted. "Were you trying to kill yourself? If you were, you picked a strange costume."
Candy's reserve of strength broke down then. She dropped to her knees in the dust of the road and began to sob incoherently and blurt out what had happened to her to this stranger. Then she was aware of being helped into the car, which she saw now was a Mercedes coupe. Nerve-ends twitching, she let herself sink into the soft richness of the leather bucket seat. No sooner had she gasped out where and how She had spent the night and a fraction of the things which had happened than her rescuer swore softly, backed the fast car around in the middle of the road and drove at top speed for Tijuana.
Candy studied her in the growing light of the new day. She was mature, about thirty, with a fine-sculpted face of alabaster hue. Her dark hair was cropped in a short page-boy. Skin-tight slacks encased her long, tapering legs. They were so sheer Candy could see the fleshy slit of her cunt clearly outlined at the base of her taut-muscled loins. Her pointed breasts, unrestrained by a brassiere, aroused envy in the blonde girl. The prominent nipples were sharp dots against her thin blouse.
"It's lucky for both of us you took that spill," the woman said grimly. "I was on my way to see El Capitan Porfirio Fuentes, and what happened to you was nothing to what would have happened to me. Those punks would cut my tits off as fast as they'd look at me!"
"I don't understand," Candy replied.
"We have a thing going," she said in a way which let Candy know that she didn't intend to discuss its nature. "I'm Francine Collins. I think I'd better take you to my place until I can do some phoning around. I can lend you some clothes, Candy. And it's important to me to know just what's happened at the hacienda - and in some other places."
Candy was glad that she'd withheld the fact that she was a newspaper reporter. If Fuentes was a crooked cop, and the beautiful brunette was involved with him, revealing her line of work could get her into more trouble. Soon they were passing through the shack-infested outskirts of Tijuana and again riding into the hills which ringed the rough border town. The Mercedes slid through imposing gate posts to halt in front of a house which appeared as big as the Fuentes' hacienda. Francine quickly led her inside as a maid opened a heavy oaken portal. If the maid saw anything unusual in a near-naked blonde, scratched and bruised, being ushered in before the sun was fully up, her face showed no sign. Francine ordered her to prepare a warm bath for Candy, and then said, "I'll bet you could use a drink for the nerves."
"I could at that," Candy replied.
"Come on. I'll find you a robe first, and in no time your bath will be ready."
Moments later, wrapped in a fluffy robe and with a cup of scalding coffee well-laced with brandy, the beautiful newspaperwoman began to relax and feel warmth again. She lay back in a soft upholstered chair and sipped the hot drink gratefully. With a sigh, she let her robe fall open. The firm roundness of her ripe young breasts came into view, the pink nipples peeking just beyond the edge of the garment. Below, the knotted belt fell away from her gracefully-curved hips, exposing the soft, pale-hued curls framing the tight slit of her vagina.
Unwinding from her night of terror, it took Candy several minutes to realize that the brunette's dark glowing eyes were fixed on her body, moving from the upthrust mounds of her breasts slowly down to the "vee" of her nakedly exposed pussy. With the sudden realization that Francine's devouring gaze was an unnatural one, she moved to cover herself, only to be aware that as she drew the bottom of the robe together, its hiked-up hem revealed the full golden-tanned length of her thighs and even the sleek bottoms of her taut ass-cheeks.
Francine seemed not to notice her defensive movement, and only smiled as she sat opposite, long legs curled under her on a sofa. Candy looked away from the smouldering dark eyes and concentrated on her spiked coffee. She realized that somehow she had to get through to the paper, and suspected that was something Francine would not want. Her line of thought was interrupted as the maid appeared, saying her bath was ready. Almost sure now that Francine was a lesbian, she waited apprehensively to see if the stunning dark-haired woman would attempt to accompany her to the tub, but Francine didn't. She closed the door and left her alone as Candy sank gratefully into the steaming water.
Indeed, the young blonde's guess as to Francine's lesbianic inclinations had been correct. But the urgency of the situation would not allow the dark-tressed beauty to indulge herself in a seduction attempt at the moment although she suspected Candy was so distraught from her night of humiliation that she would be easy prey for an experienced girl-lover like herself. Perhaps to the point that after a long, tender session she would never want to have anything to do with men! Wouldn't that be delightful, Francine thought, bringing the luscious vision of the near-virginal young blonde to mind, feeling the heated secretions begin to flow deep within her excitedly throbbing vagina, But if what Candy had told them was only half true, she had to move, and do it quickly! Not that she had any love for Capitan Porfirio Fuentes - she hated the bastard! He knew well her distaste for sex with males, and took perverse delight in forcing her to do revolting things. The fucking wasn't so bad, but she loathed taking his heavily-loaded penis into her mouth, obscenely using her lips that were made to caress a fine young, sweet-scented pussy, not a monstrous male member.
So the pachucos had castrated him! Bueno! She was only sorry they had not cut off his cock also!
But that was a personal thing... and now she had to attend to business. She had to send help to him, and get other things moving. She made a series of telephone calls and finally got through to Carlos Brazil. Carlos handled things when Fuentes wasn't available. He had men and guns. He grasped the situation immediately and said he would act...
Reeling drunk, the Mexican youths stumbled from the hacienda to find both Candy and one of the bikes missing. Cursing, they held a conference. Then, on the remaining three motorcycles, they roared off into the bright early morning sun, the leader riding double with one of the underlings. They shared the fear that if the blonde had managed to reach Tijuana, she would head straight for the policia, and they had almost no time to escape with their meager loot from Fuentes' hacienda.
The cool air, sweeping over their faces, sobered them quickly. They found the spilled motorcycle, and the tall leader studied the tire tracks in the dirt road, reading their message.
"A car met her - she went in the car. It was a big car, with Michelin-X tires. No such car would be on this road except that of the lesbian puta Francine. We will go to her casa!"
But their intention was frustrated as, in the valley below, they suddenly saw three carloads of men coming at a high rate of speed. The cars had red lights flashing, and there was no escape road. Cursing, they mounted the motorcycles, the leader having found his machine undamaged by the spill, and gunned them up a burro trail which would take them over some hills and back to the road at a lower point.
With the warm water soothing her aching body, Candy soaked in the deep tub, slowly caressing the rich curves of her firm-thrusting breasts and laving the dust and dirt and thin lines of blood from her smooth thighs. She kept telling herself that she must somehow get through to the Express, but as she relaxed, it seemed less and less important by the minute. God! How she needed to rest!
She forgot her previous awareness of Francine's lesbian stare as the slender, full-breasted older woman appeared once more. Now she wore a short robe, coming only to mid-thigh, hanging loose at the top to bare the smooth roundness of her tip-tilted breasts. She had swirled her hair wildly with her fingers while talking on the phone, and now it was a dark, tousled mop that somehow made her look younger, almost innocent - yet Candy realized there was no innocence in those knowing eyes. But at this point, she was beyond struggling. Her entire being felt drained to exhaustion. Weakly she raised her arms and let Francine help her from the tub.
"Feeling better?" the dark-haired woman asked as she took a soft fluffy towel from a rack and began to rub and dry the trembling young girl's soap-scented body. "What you need is a good relaxing massage and then some sleep. I have called the police, and they are on the way to Fuentes' hacienda. They will take care of him... and they will find the men who did it. You have nothing to worry about, dear."
"No... I only want to get back across the border," Candy mumbled. "You've been very kind, Francine... "
"Nonsense!" the dark-tressed lesbian replied as her fingers slipped out of the covering of the towel to caress the nipples of Candy's naked young breasts, tantalizing them to unwilling erection so they extended a full inch from the smooth cones. "You must rest! And then have some food. Come!"
The hypnotized Candy allowed herself to be led to a dim-lighted bedroom. After the hot bath, it seemed chill, and she didn't resist as Francine drew down the covers and guided her between soft silken sheets. She burrowed down between them and didn't protest as the older, voluptuous woman slipped in beside her. Knowing it was wrong, she still allowed herself to be cuddled, and even snuggled closer for the warmth as Francine's arms encircled her nakedly quivering body, the fingertips gliding over her own golden skin. She trembled at the tactile contact and couldn't repress a sigh of contentment, nor hold back the responsive undulation of her sensually awakening body to the gentleness of the caress.
Francine's fingers were sliding up and down the smooth column of her spine, easing into the trembling crease of her ass-cheeks, and all Candy could do was softly moan in mounting pleasure and sensual arousal!
The young blonde girl felt the warm sleek length of the other woman's thigh insinuating itself gradually between her legs, sliding, inching up until it was brushing against her quickly-moistening cuntal lips. She groaned and tried to make herself at least attempt to escape from this further assault on her body and morality, but all she could think of was that it was so much nicer than what she had been forced to endure through the night! Being cruelly raped and forced to suck God knew how many cocks! Unnatural as this thing which was now happening might be, it was at least a gentle, loving thing.
No one understands a woman like another woman! She realized.
"You're so beautiful," Francine murmured. Slowly her mouth kissed Candy's eyes, then moved to her ears, tongue swirling as the naked newspaper reporter tried to find the strength to repel the forbidden caresses. She was helpless, and involuntarily she parted her hps as Francine's wet tender mouth finally came in contact with hers. She felt the long delving spear of the brunette's tongue insinuating itself deep into her oral cavity, sliding, swirling gently, making contact with her own tongue, sucking, forcing her to respond in return. Francine's knowledgeable hands were moving over her warmly tingling breasts, the slender fingers pinching her erect little nipples, and she realized Francine's robe had slipped - or been deftly removed from her body so they were both stark naked. With a supple motion, Francine tossed the covers away, and the blankets and upper sheet spilled in a crumpled mass on the floor. The chilled air raised goosebumps on Candy's excitedly trembling body, and instinctively she clutched at the voluptuous older woman beside her for warmth, her legs opening wide to find the heat of Francine's sensuously rubbing leg.
"Oooooohhhhh! You mustn't!" Candy whispered in lewd excitement tinged with shame. She saw and felt the hot velvet of Francine's lips close over the distended nipple of her sensitive left breast, and then the soft, hot swirl of her tongue against the tip. She could not repress the shudder of delight which flashed through her nakedly writhing young body. Francine began to suck as she used the end. of her tongue dexterously, and Candy felt fingers sliding down over the smooth, soft mound of her belly into her pussy hair. Her loins were already spread wide by the gentle but insistent pressure of Francine's slender leg, and there was no barrier to the deft, skilled fingers that sought out the wetly throbbing lips of her tight little pussy and delved into the warm moisture which was beginning to flow from the depths of her aroused young cunt! "Don't - oh, please don't do this to me!" Candy wailed, tossing her head helplessly from side to side, "I've never... I've never done this before. We can't."
"Darling, I just want to make you relax," Francine murmured reassuringly. Her fingers slid the whole pulsating length of Candy's soft fleshy cuntal lips, going down into the crevice of her taut-muscled buttocks to find her tight little anal ring.
The naked girl reporter gasped at the lewd touch, and tried to squirm away, but Francine's sensuously alluring body was now lying across her, pinning her down... and she realized she really had no desire to fight what was happening! She knew it was wrong, but the will to resist had left her... she found herself even anticipating what would happen next, knowing instinctively that it would be pleasurable if she could only let herself relax.
Francine's wet mouth left the hot peak of Candy's breast and her tongue licked like wet fire down the smooth contours of her belly and through the sparse growth of golden pubic hair. The older woman's leg and hands gently forced her thighs apart so her young, violated vagina was completely exposed.
"No... no... NOOOOOOO!!!!! the girl moaned, even as her loins began a lewd undulation in anticipation of what was to happen next! She saw Francine's beautiful face framed by the wide-splayed "vee" of her own thighs, and the pink tip of the brunette's saliva-wet tongue flicking across sensuous lips. The lesbian's head slowly moved lower and lower, and her tongue began to moistly slide up and down the most sensitive flesh on the inside of Candy's velvet-fleshed thighs. She groaned as she felt Francine's skilled, delicate fingers parting her lust-swollen vaginal hps, felt hot, moist breath spreading over her sensitive coral-hued inner flesh which was even now pearling with her own excited sexual secretions. Francine's tongue flicked out like a hot-tipped whip to lick up and down the passion-soaked furrow of her widespread cunt hps, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.
"Please don't... ooohhhh!!! Pleeeaaasseee!" Candy cried out, knowing that her plea would go unheeded - and realizing she didn't want the voluptuous older woman to stop tantalizing her eagerly pulsating pussy with fingers and tongue as she crouched low, at the same time dominant and yet subservient, between her wildly trembling thighs. And then with a low moan of lewd hunger, Candy's will broke and she whispered, "Yes - yesssss! Do it! Let me feel your mouth! Kiss my vagina. Aaahhh! Like that... " Mewling in satisfaction, Francine bent her lovely face between the sweet-scented thighs of the naked young newspaper woman, the hot spear of her tongue swirling through the wetly curling golden fringe of hair which sheathed the tight, juice-spewing young pussy which at least for a lesbian tongue, was virgin. She pushed her mouth tight against the throbbing softness of the widely-dilated vagina and deftly wormed her tongue far up the hot, sweet depths of Candy's cuntal passage, teasing the thousands of tiny vaginal nerve-ends. The young girl, losing control of herself, urgently rammed her shamelessly aroused pussy up against the velvet-soft lips which were sucking so ecstatically at her flesh.
Francine's tongue fucked deep into the tight wet hole until the shapely blonde reporter writhed on the big bed like a woman gone mad. Suddenly her tongue slipped from the clutching confines of the vaginal passage to slash tantalizingly over the erect, urgently-vibrating bud of the young girl's clitoris; the dark-haired lesbian captured it between her avid lips and expertly sucked the tiny penis-like organ, the very end of her tongue flicking and licking and swirling as Candy tossed and humped on the bed and her thighs closed around the beautiful older woman's face with an audible, wet smacking sound. Candy's naked buttocks churned in complete abandonment as her pubic mound rose and fell in perfect timing with the salacious licking and sucking of her partner.
Suddenly Candy felt a great bubble swelling in her loins, a spreading of heat that filled her belly and surged downward to her clutching, sweating thighs.
"Aaaauuuuggghhhh... oooouuuggghhhh!" she cried out, her hands clutching like claws at the brunette's wildly bobbing head. "I'm cummmmiinnnng!!!!"
At the exact instant the dam within her was about to burst and let loose the tremendous tide of her climax, Francine abruptly pulled away from her, yanking her hair free of the grasping hands, raising her head. A smile of ultimate triumph spread over the face that was wet and glistening with Candy's vaginal secretions.
"Together!" the lesbian said urgently. "We'll cum together."
Before Candy could comprehend what was happening, the beautiful brunette swung around on the bed, straddling her face from above, and lowering her belly so that it pressed, soft and hot, on her aroused breasts. With wide eyes, the young blonde watched as the older woman's cuntal crevice descended toward her own gaping, astonished mouth. The fleshy pink slit of Francine's pussy opened and closed inches from her face, inviting her. She could see the dew-like pearly drops of the brunette's vaginal fluid glistening, and her nostrils flared at the heady scent of the cunt that was so close. The hot thighs rubbed sensuously against her rib cage, and she knew she had to do it! She had to use her tongue on the beckoning vagina!
And she wanted to! It was something she had never even thought of before in connection with herself, and when she had heard of others doing it, she had thought it perverse and unnatural. But now she had to taste the wetly glistening cunt which was suspended so tantalizingly just above her face. With a gasp of surrender, Candy reached up to grab the smooth half-moons of Francine's warm-fleshed buttocks with her fingers and at the same time peel the blood-swollen pussy lips even wider with her thumbs. She pulled the lesbian's eagerly writhing loins down, and her tongue came out and without hesitation drove straight up into the moistly heated flesh. With a shock, Candy realized it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted - so much richer and sweeter and headier than the cocks she had been forced to suck! Ravenously, she licked and sucked as Francine rotated her naked buttocks and ground her succulent pink pussy down at the blonde girl's straining mouth. She tried to make a penis of her tongue and fuck... fuck, and suck wildly, wantonly enjoying this new experience.
"Oooough! Beautiful! Aaaauuuggghhh!" Candy moaned, her full pouting lips drawing on the sweet-flowing cunt, her throat working to 'swallow each drop of rich fluid as fast as she could extract it! Scant inches from her hotly-laboring mouth, she could see the tight puckered ring of Francine's anus. She could not fight the obscene urge to ram her finger deep into it. Moving the tip of her outstretched middle finger to the hairless orifice, she tried to push it in - but it was too tight. With a moan of frustration, she jerked Francine's frantically churning hips downward and raised her head until she could reach it with her mouth. Wetly, her tongue encircled the tight little opening until she felt it begin to relax, and she could thrust her tongue into it, tasting the hot alien sweetness within. She sighed and began energetically tongue-fucking the puckered opening and heard Francine cry out softly with pleasure.
Then, knowing she had prepared the way, Candy again used her finger. This time the tight, rubbery sphincter parted and with one swift motion, she was able to sink her finger to the hilt so hard her palm smacked wetly against the older woman's wide-stretched ass-cheeks. Savagely, driven by lewd passion she had never even imagined, the blonde newspaper woman began to fuck her finger in and out of Francine's anal passage, even as her wetly sucking hps returned to the woman's sweet quivering cunt. Her tongue again speared into its honeyed depths.
"Uuuuuggghh! Don't stop, darling. Oh... oh gorgeous!" Francine cried out in ecstasy, as she pulled Candy's thrashing thighs far apart again and her head plunged between them, her tongue savagely licking and probing at the young girl's pussy flesh. "Uuuugh! Uuuuggghhh! Ummmmmm!"
With the oral contact to her pussy renewed with even more ardor, Candy felt herself exploding, turning to fire. Out of control, she wildly rammed her face up between her partner's trembling thighs, tongue probing, and lips sucking as her finger fucked and twisted Francine's rectum.
The tidal wave of sensuality surged through her to break on the soft, hair-fringed lips of her pussy as the beautiful lesbian's tongue fucked faster and faster, deeper and deeper into her feverishly-flexing cunt... and then she was cumming! She felt the gush of her orgasm spilling into the sucking mouth of the other girl even as Francine reached her own climax and the brunette's liquid passion spilled out of the palpitating vagina into her own eagerly-gulping mouth, to coat her tonsils, with a flavor more delicious than anything she had ever tasted before.
To Candy, it seemed like an eternity passed as they lay locked together, arms and legs entwined, slowly, sinuously moving over each other's sweat-glistening bodies, tongues thickly laving each other, seeking the last droplets of the precious fluid of their unnatural passion. Then the older woman undulated on the bed and reversed herself, moving to draw the trembling young girl into her arms and bring their cum-glistening lips together in a long, searching kiss. Candy tasted herself and felt new erotic stimulation from the contact with Francine's soft warm breasts and belly and thighs.
"I - I don't know at all what - " she mumbled.
"Don't try to talk about it," Francine whispered. 'There are no words, darling. Now, get some rest. I'm going to another room." She winked. "If I don't, you'll never have a nap. You're too delicious... too beautiful."
"You're beautiful, too," Candy mumbled. She was drifting into sleep even before Francine padded silently from the room. The sweet smell of sex filled her flaring nostrils.
Candy's sorely-needed rest was short-lived. Within an hour, the bright new morning sun slanted through the shutters and pried painfully into her eyes, waking her. With the resilience of youth, she reacted quickly, remembering all that had happened. Aghast at what she had endured, she took stock of her situation. Francine, her lust satisfied for the moment, had let her sleep alone. She still had a story to write - and if possible, she would have to retrieve the camera and film, but that seemed impossible. But she could at least try to find some clothes and get out of this house, make her way to the city.
It was easier than she anticipated. A wardrobe in the room held a number of dresses, panties and leather boots. She tried several combinations, and discovered that they fit well, although Francine apparently didn't believe in brassieres either. At that moment, Candy would have settled for a flour sack with holes slashed out for head and arms. Carrying a pair of boots, she sought out a rear stairway in barefooted silence. She scampered across the grounds, causing an aged gardener to stare in amazement, and ran to the Mercedes. The key was in it. Moments later she was roaring from the drive so fast the heavy car fishtailed on the rough road as she headed it for Tijuana.
The windows were up and she didn't hear the sudden snorting of motorcycles coming cross-country in an attempt to cut her off.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Shit! She is gone!" one of the bikers said angrily as he saw the Mercedes streaking away. "She will be in Tijuana before we can catch her!"
"So we follow and see where we are led and then we catch her," the leader said, making a bad situation seem somewhat better. "We did not find the heroin, or enough money at Fuentes' hacienda. Perhaps she knows where it is. Keep close eyes upon her... see where she goes and what she does!"
The powerful bikes began to roar in pursuit, and they followed the Mercedes all the way into town...
Up ahead of them, hardly believing her luck, Candy found Avenida Revolucion and parked the car. Now she knew where she was - it was only a few blocks to the apartment. She had to force herself not to run the short distance. Her fingers fumbled with the telephone, but finally she had the Express on the line, and was blurting out what had happened when the man on the other end abruptly switched her over to Leo Belcher.
"For Chrissakes, Eatin' Stuff, what you got goin' down there?" he demanded. "You got half the night crew on double time with some fuckin' bar brawl, and now you say somebody cut the nuts of the boss goose and there's a bunch of bikers fuckin' you up! Goddamnit, make sense!" He sounded really angry. "Just give us the Who, What, Where, When, Why and How, and we'll handle. Half-ass hysterics we can't use!"
"Fuck you, you needle-nosed prick!" Candy screamed. "I've been raped and they made me suck their cocks all night and... and... FUCK YOU!!! I've been through hell, and you sit back in your soft chair and issue shit to me! FUCK YOU, LEO BELCHER!!! If you want the rest of the story, come the hell down here to my level and get it!"
She slammed the phone down and waited.
He was there in twenty minutes, angry at first. He stomped around the apartment like the drill sergeant he had once been, mouthing obscenities, telling her everything she had done wrong.
Candy knew that, in the circumstances, she had done all she could. For once she was glad she had been exposed to the vulgarity of the newsroom, and could say the words without flinching.
"Fuck off, you asshole," she said calmly. "I gave the desk what I had. I got raped! I had to suck pricks! A girl ate me out! I jammed a camera up my ass and put a film cassette in my cunt! What the fuck more am I supposed to do in the name of Fearless Journalism!"
"You are a tougher cunt than I thought," the lean, graying editor admitted. He found a chair. "The top men we have are on this. They'll pry up the lid of every stinkin' sewer to get the story. Okay, it's your story - but you don't have time to write it. You're half out of your fuckin' head now! So you talk it out and I put it on tape and rewrite handles. You get the by-line." He pulled a miniaturized tape recorder from his pocket and switched it on. "Tell it the way it happened."
Suddenly Candy believed that what she had been told was true. This revolting editor could handle any situation, even if he couldn't write. His job was not to write, but to make others do it.
Leo Belcher let her talk for perhaps ten minutes, then rammed the hard questions at her. Who had done what, with which and to whom? Where? At what time? What had been the circumstances? Who else was present?
He made it clear that he wanted to capitalize on the fact that a virgin girl reporter for the Express had not only been raped but forced to perform fellatio, and led into cunnilingus while trying to do her job.
Almost in tears, she told it all. She hoped to find some sympathy, but there were always more questions, and they were put to her in the most degrading way.
"How many times did you suck cock?"
"This Francine - did she force you to eat her cunt?"
"The guys on the bikes... you say they got drunk... did you have to keep blowing them?"
"Did you resist?"
"How the hell could I have resisted?" the tortured girl cried out. "Would you resist if you saw another man's balls cut off and fed to a pair of wild cats?"
"But you turned on when you got your pussy licked."
"Oh, go away. FUCK YOURSELF!!!" she cried out.
"All right," Belcher said, instantly changing his attitude and approach, like a skilled prosecuting attorney. The tape recorder whirred softly. "Eatin' Stuff, I had to push you, find out how much was fact and how much hysteria. You came through pretty good. I believe most of it happened the way you said. Now, the way I see to handle this, is a first-person story. You write it just the way it happened, but pick a name for the victim bird, which of course is you. You get the by-line on an 'as-told-to-me' thing. Put in everything! The fucking and cocksucking and cutting the guy's nuts off and feeding them to the kitty-kats and like that. It won't go through the copy desk. I'll have that son-of-a-bitch Calvin edit in my own office." He took a long breath. "That motherfucker! I hate his goddamn ass, but he's the best man on the staff. I can't break him. Give him the shit jobs and he does them in an hour and fucks around on his boat the rest of the day on company time and gives me the finger! The bastard is also a lawyer, and he'll keep us out of the smut courts. Now, get naked!"
"WHAT!!!!!" Candy almost screeched at the unexpected order. Her mind blurred. What new depravity did this needle-nosed editor have in mind? It was beyond her imagination. She curled into a ball on the sofa and shouted, "Are you crazy?"
"We gotta have pix to back the story," he said coldly. "You're bruised - finger bruises. You've got welts on your tail and back... don't worry, your face won't show. You're going to write about what happened to another girl, remember?"
However revolting it might be for her, Candy Moss could understand Leo's reasoning. She knew the pictures would be cropped to show only her damaged flesh. She thought that-after all she had been through, baring her body one more time wouldn't make much difference. As Belcher drew a Minox identical to her own from his pocket and inserted a cassette, she undressed. Mechanically, she obeyed instructions to open her thighs so the imprints of cruel fingers showed. He came in so close - the camera would take a good picture with only two inches depth-of-field - that she could feel his hot breath blowing through the soft golden curls of her cuntal hair, but he seemed completely unaffected by their closeness. He was entirely the professional newsman doing a job.
To him, she was a piece of meat. A story to be developed and exploited. Well, that was what you had to expect. Sometimes you wrote the story. Sometimes you -were the story.
And at rare times like this, you were both.
Candy was sure that in time, the full truth would be brought out. She might even win a Pulitzer!
"Enough of the front view," he said coldly. "Roll over on your belly and let's see your ass wide open!"
"Whaaaat!" Candy cried out. At least, they hadn't attacked her there! She could see no reason for it and she snarled when she spoke. "No way - no reason!"
"Oh, for Chrissakes, you dumb cunt!" he exploded. "Don't you know a story when it bites you on the ass? I'm not talking about the fucking Express! There are papers all over the States and Europe, and magazines, that will buy this and pay big. Four, five hundred dollars each, and you multiply that by five or six hundred, and shit, you've got a damned Rolls-Royce! You write, I edit, we split. So you got fucked and you sucked some cock. Who's not going to believe you got screwed in the ass too? So you fake a picture. Now, roll over!"
Candy could not resist. After the degradation to which she had been forced to pervert herself, it seemed little enough to pose for a faked picture. And if Leo Belcher could get the newspaper and magazine space, she might well make a lot of money and also earn a journalism prize. The Pulitzer was the BIG one! She began to appreciate his ability as an editor, and his imagination. It no way diminished her belief that he was a utter son-of-a-bitch. With a sigh, and covering her eyes in shame, she turned over on her belly on the couch, spread her legs, and reached back with trembling hands to part her tight young ass-cheeks. Her eyes blinked as he began to take pictures of the bruises and welts on her exhausted body.
And then she caught her breath, wanting to scream but unable to!
Leo Belcher was feverishly stripping his clothes off! He peeled his shirt over his head and dropped his pants and shoved his shorts down. She noticed vaguely that he carried a snub-nosed pistol. Wide-eyed, she stared at him.
"What are you doing?" Candy cried out, struggling to turn over, but being frustrated as he put a knee in the small of her back.
"I'm gonna pose just like you - and take the pix at the same time," he said in a caustic tone. "All that shows is the head of my cock between your ass-cheeks, Eatin' Stuff. And it sells, believe me, it sells. Hotter than Fuentes' heroin! Now open your legs up wide, and I'll get between them and look like I'm shoving my cock up your ass! Don't give me a big line of bullshit! Just lay there and open up wide. I'll get a couple of pix of my cock right at your pretty asshole and that'll be it! Then you put some clothes on and we see about something to eat. DO IT!"
Trembling, the young blonde was afraid to disobey. She had been so abused, so humiliated and degraded in the past day that this seemed like nothing to her. She positioned her nakedly quaking body, yielding to the nudges of Leo's fingers as he studied the lighting and background. Her left knee was on the carpeted floor, her other leg splayed wide against the back of the couch. She knew her genitals were obscenely exposed, but there was nothing she could do. She blinked as the strobe light flashed twice, then felt him rising over her, the hot throbbing head of his cock sliding up the fleshy crevice of her cunt to her defenseless little anus.
And then the soft, rubbery heat of his penis was pressing against her there! She could not halt her body's instinctive reaction. She gasped and humped back toward it, moaning. It felt so warm and smooth, nestled up there between the smooth half-melons of her naked young buttocks.
"By God! You want it stuck up your ass!" Leo blurted obscenely. "And I sure as hell will do it!"
"No! Ooooooohhhh! Noooooo!!!!" Candy cried out. "I don't want you to even touch me! I'm only doing this because of what you promised... "
"Don't give me that shit! You want to get fucked in the ass," Leo Belcher said coldly. "Well, you're gonna get fucked in the ass!"
Candy tried to struggle free, to close her widespread legs against the unnatural invasion of her rectum, but she was helpless. He was heavier, and he was on top of her, with all his weight, his body that had been trained to a fine edge in the Marines and kept in shape for years was more than a match for her own slender form. She felt the hot, mushroom-shaped head prodding at the tight resisting ring of her sphincter muscle as she gasped for air. He hit her at the back of the neck, a rabbit punch, and for a few seconds it took all the resistance out of her, dulled her brain.
The interval was long enough. While her body was lax, he lurched forward over her nakedly defenseless form, the bulbous head of his cock ramming cruelly through her anal orifice, hot and hard and a burning axe-handle.
"Aaaaiiiiieeeee!!!!" she cried out. "Don't! You're hurting... meeeeee!" She tried to squirm away from the unnatural impalement, but his lust-hardened penis was already too deeply embedded up inside her anal passage. His huge throbbing cock was being rammed through her wildly puckering anus as she writhed and tossed in a futile attempt to avoid the sodomistic rape. "You'll split me apart! For God's sake, don't! I'll do anything! I'll suck you! BUT NOT THIS!!!! OOOOOOUUUUGGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHHH!"
"Shut up!" he gasped as he thrust his massively thickened shaft deeper and deeper into her straining rectum. "You love it and you know you do!"
Her struggles useless, Candy lay under him, feeling the great rod of hard flesh ruthlessly invade her back passage, stretching it, sending great waves of pain ahead of the massive cudgel. He pistoned into her hard and fast, but only a fraction of an inch at a time, until finally her tight little anus was stretched to the bursting point. She felt sure she would be fatally injured by the obscene intrusion, because of the pain, the steel-like penis that was drilling relentlessly deeper and deeper into her virginal rectum. She struggled to escape, but Leo's hands, quick and hard, grasped her nakedly heaving buttocks and pulled the soft whiteness of them back, at the same time thrusting himself even deeper and deeper into the young blonde's trembling, tortured flesh.
"AAAAUUUUGGGHHHH!!!" she cried out, as she felt his sperm-laden testicles smack wetly against her distended ass-cheeks. He held her tight to him, and began to flex his hotly throbbing cock inside her sorely-expanded anal canal. She could feel the huge head blowing up like a balloon and tears came to her eyes. She was beyond begging for mercy now. She knew she would only submit and pray for a quick ending of the obscene, vile torture. As was the case when she had submitted to Fuentes' rape, and the oral assault of the bikers, she knew the only thing to do was endure it. She forced herself to raise her head and spit defiant words at the lewdly leering editor who sodomized her.
"Enjoy yourself, you bastard!" she gasped.
"Oh, well both enjoy it, Eatin' Stuff," Belcher said with a smirk. He grabbed her squirming hips and jerked her ripe young body back hard on the rigid length of his throbbing cock and felt her tremble. He was sure that in a minute or two her tail would be wagging like a happy puppy and she'd be begging for more. "Move your fuckin' ass! Ram it back on my prick! Get it way up there! You're nice and hot and juicy, and I'll have you cummin' in less than a minute." He slapped her naked ass cheeks, bringing a howl of outrage and pain from the young girl.
"You miserable cock sucker!" she spat back at him, with a defiant toss of her head.
Yet it was a false retort... because now, against all her natural will, his warmly pulsating penis was feeling good up inside her stretched little rectum. The long throbbing length of his cock filled her rectal passage to the hilt, and she thought she could almost feel it in her belly -she was expanding, her flesh and tissues opening to the unnatural presence of his penis. She panted heavily and, submitting, began to undulate her voluptuous body to absorb more of him. Spreading her knees wider, so her nakedly rounded buttocks were completely open to him, she could feel his heavy, semen-laden balls smacking against the blood-engorged soft lips of her cunt down below, and even tickling the aroused stalk of her clitoris. The panting young blonde began to rock back and forth, so his heavy spear of male flesh moved rhythmically in and out of her quivering anal opening.
God, but it hurt! With each new movement, she felt as if a great redwood tree was splitting her apart in the most obscene way possible. Tossing her head, she caught sight of herself in a clouded mirror. She saw her smooth rounded buttocks begin to wave wantonly as the hard-driving penis rammed faster and faster in and out of her straining backside. She could see a pink ring of anal flesh being pulled from her body, wrapped tightly around his thick pole of flesh, and then be jammed back deep into her rectum again as the huge cockhead pushed her tissues ahead of it in great rippling waves until she felt her ass-cheeks slapped again by the heavy weight of the editor's scrotum. It hurt terribly at first, but now the pain was diminishing and with a masochistic desire that she hadn't known before, Candy wanted it to continue!
"You son of a bitch," she moaned. "You miserable bastard!" She writhed, thrusting herself back with fury, impaling her anus to the hilt on the massively throbbing cock. "For God's sake, help me! Fuck me! FUCK MY ASS! HARD! OH! EVEN HARDER! RAM YOUR GODDAMN PRICK INTO ME; YOU COCKSUCKER!"
"With pleasure, you hot little cunt! I told you that you'd love it!" Leo said coldly.
Holding her squirming hips, he began to fuck wildly in and out of her tightly puckering anus, feeling her lithe young body respond, screw back to him hard, as she panted and tossed her long golden hair in mingled pain and pleasure. He could feel the sensitive tip of his cock reaming her back passage savagely - and she was loving all of it, even begging him for more! He had wanted to fuck her and debase her ever since he had first seen her strut into the city room of the Express, swinging this fine tight young ass he was now fucking so wildly. He never thought he'd have a chance, but now here she was, jaybird naked, with her buttocks spread and clutching at him, and her beautiful tits crushed on the couch. He knew she hated him... and he knew that was one of the things which made it good, fucking her this way and making her love it and cry for more.
"You fuckin' cunt!" he gasped. "Move your ass. Make me feel like I'm not wavin' my prick out the window!"
"Ooooohhh... Ugggghhhh!" Candy cried out in humiliation as she felt the thick rod of hot throbbing flesh drill harder and deeper up into her tortured belly. She clenched her anal muscles, knowing he must want her tight as possible, and swayed her naked buttocks obscenely as she gloried in the feel of his long hard penis jackhammering deeply into her defenseless rectum. In her loins, the fire raged and then began to burst from her body. Oh God! He was going to make her cum! She had never thought it would be possible, doing it this way, but it was happening! She cried out shrilly as the moment of orgasm arrived. "OOOOOOOOO - AAAAUUUUU GGGGGHHHHH!!!!!"
"You cumming, bitch?" he said cruelly, ramming his thickening cock into her convulsing backside with renewed violence. "Well, I'll just join you!"
Leo Belcher hated women. He gloried in defiling them, making them his slaves, using them in every unspeakable way. And this one was the best cunt he'd ever had in his life. So proud and pretty and determined to do her own thing. Well, he had reduced her to a grovelling, pleading piece of juicy meat. Out of control, she was grinding her tight young ass back on his thick reaming cock and begging for more, even as tears of pain streamed down her face. He knew she didn't consciously feel the pain. All she felt was the sensual pleasure of being fucked in the ass.
God, could she fuck!
He could not hold back any longer! Losing control himself, he grabbed her frantically churning hips and pulled her ripe young buttocks to him with all his strength. He began pumping furiously into her tender anal opening, hardly hearing her cries of ecstasy as he brought her to orgasm a second time. His cock thickened and hardened and then the great pool of white-hot semen erupted from his balls and poured down the thick tube on the underside of his jabbing penis, erupting deep up inside her tightly-grasping rectum.
Candy felt the hot flood of his cum spilling into her. It jetted and squirted deep in her back passage, hot and slick, and she moaned in sexual delirium as she screwed back on the spewing penis, absorbing all of it, tightening her rectal muscles to keep the warmth and slickness of it inside her. Nothing like it had ever happened to her before! She had responded enthusiastically to the rape of Fuentes. She had found herself perversely, obscenely gratified when she had been forced to suck off the Mexican hoods. She had yielded to Francine's tongue, and even felt a thrill when she had been led to eat the other girl's pussy.
But nothing as wildly satisfying as this!
Her eyes rolling wildly, her blonde hair flaring, the beautiful young reporter arched her back in the fury of her orgasm, even as Leo Belcher, spent and suddenly weak, slumped heavily over her, his hands reaching to grasp her lust-swollen breasts and massage the extended buds of her nipples.
"You are one hell of a fuck... " he mumbled.
"And you are dead!"
The cold voice cut through their harsh panting. Candy barely had time to look up as the slender youth in the wet-look leather leaped toward the sofa. Confused, Leo Belcher began to raise his head.
Lips drawn tight across his gleaming white teeth, the youth caught Belcher's jaw from behind and jerked his head up until his neck was stretched.
The knife in his hand flashed, and then a great red fountain of blood spurted. Belcher's scream became a gurgle, and, with a final spasm of jerking and kicking, he slumped, his life spurting out of the horrible wound in his neck. He was dead in a matter of seconds.
Candy opened her mouth to scream, but the youth cupped his blood-dripping hand over it and pinned her to the sofa.
"Be quiet," he said urgently. "I heard and saw. He deserved to die." He spit. "I know that son of a whore. He was in the pay of Capitan Fuentes, who now is without his cojones. And he was going to kill you because you know too much."
"Pablo!" she gasped as he took his hand from her mouth and she recognized the boy from the stud house. Only then did she remember she had made up a story about writing a number of articles and maybe a book, and had given him her address. At the time, he had been the last person she ever hoped to see again, but now he had appeared like an avenging angel and slain the dragon which had sodomized her. She stuttered, "How did you... I mean, what brought you... "
"I had heard of the trouble at the Brush Rabbit," he said calmly. "I was told there was a blonde Americano girl taken by Fuentes. It had to be you. I tried to go to the hacienda of Capitan Fuentes, but it was not possible. So I came to watch here. The police wish to speak to me also, so I had to wait for a time when I could approach unseen. I saw what that one was doing to you. If you had really wanted him to do it, I probably would not have killed him right away... Not until he pulled out his gun to shoot you." He looked concerned for a minute, and then continued. "It will be necessary to remove him. In a few hours, he will begin to stink. There is a back way out, and a cistern. I will take care of it."
"Oh, my God!" Candy murmured, looking at the graying body of her recent editor, and the gaping slash which had almost severed his head from his body. She had wanted a beat with action - and surely she had gotten more than she bargained for. She managed to mumble, "Get it out of here. Please, get it out of here."
"Con mucho gusto," the Mexican youth said. "I will find a blanket or something to cover him.
"There is much blood. You will have to wash it away."
"Of course," Candy whispered. "Just get him out of here!"
Choking back the bile which rose in her throat, she found rags and wet them and made an effort to sop up the blood. It would not fool anyone who came to look, she knew. It had already soaked permanently into the covering of the sofa which had been the altar of her anal rape. But she could get it off the tiled floor at least, and throw a blanket over the couch. She started to work, not thinking she was still naked, until the reflection of herself in the mirror reminded her. And then, she only paused long enough to slide a scanty dress over her head. As she did, she caught sight of the phone.
What a goddamn fool! she accused herself. You dum-dum, help is so close, and you get fucked out of your mind and don't even think of it!
But who to call? Certainly not the Mexican police. They would, with justification, throw her into a stinking jail and take their time about asking questions. Not the American Consulate - unless she had time to be strangled in red tape. The Express, of course! They probably had a bunch of reporters and photogs scrambling through Tijuana already, and they certainly had enough clout to get her across the border with her story. It was a shame she couldn't retrieve the camera and pictures, but that couldn't be helped.
Urgently, she grabbed the phone and began to dial. She could hear the uproar in the city room when she identified herself. A conference call was quickly established so that she was talking at once to the City Desk, a rewrite man, the executive editor and even Frank Calvin. She gathered that Frank had been forcibly pulled from his schooner to come in and coordinate the disjointed story that was coming in a paragraph at a time from widely-dispersed reporters south of the border.
Breathlessly, she gasped out the mingled reports of Fuentes' alleged connection with drug smuggling, his castration by cycle-riding pachucos and everything she knew on that aspect of the story.
When she told them Leo Belcher had been murdered in the company apartment, there was a long moment of dead silence, and then they were all trying to question her at once.
The interval gave Candy time to realize she must keep herself out of it. She said she had made her way back to the place and found him there. She described the death scene accurately, but left out any mention of Pablo.
"You get your ass out of there - but don't cross the border," the City Editor cut in. "The Mex cops are looking for you, on account of the Fuentes thing. Somebody recognized you when you were taken away by him. Calvin will come down and meet you. Lose yourself at the Long Bar on Revolucion and he'll find you. The leg men are working out of there. Move your ass quick, girl. You're in trouble!"
"You're giving me the news of the day?" Candy said bitterly as she hung up. It took her only minutes to evacuate the apartment, with only a clutch purse containing a ball-point pen and note paper and the few dollars she had cached in a teapot to pay the maid. The instinct to flee to the border was strong, but she knew there must have been good reason to warn her off. She headed for the Long Bar, mingled with dozens of other blonde, lithe Anglo girls of about her own age and sipped a bottle of San Miguel beer, trying to look unconcerned.
"The cunt!" one of the pachucos muttered in angry frustration. "She stays in the crowds, where we cannot reach her. It is impossible to take her from the Long Bar."
"It is impossible she can remain there forever. She is not telephoning," the leader said casually. "She must be waiting for someone. When she leaves with whoever it is, we will see."
"We should have taken her at the apartment," another said.
"But there was the older man who went in. And then Pablo."
"But Pablo left down the back stairs. Carrying something big."
"I think it was the body of the older man," the leader said. "Pablo is fast with the knife. If Pablo killed him, let Pablo dispose of the carcass. We can always find Pablo."
"And if the secret police find us?" another muttered.
"El Capitan Fuentes will be in no condition to talk for a few days. By then, we will have the heroin and be long out of Mexico."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Candy could have cried with relief when she saw the tall, confident figure of Frank Calvin appear in the bar. The place was jammed with tourists, and he looked like every tourist in the world, wearing a loose, floppy, gawdawful printed shirt, a floppy Mexican hat obviously just purchased from a sidewalk vendor and wash slacks. Innocently, he carried a camera bag. Big sunglasses concealed his eyes. He did not approach her immediately, but went to the bar and ordered a glass of beer and took his time drinking it. She knew he was casing the patrons, looking for a trap. The young blonde reporter squirmed on the hard wooden chair at the corner table. She had a hell of a story, only some' of which could ever be printed. She had taken time to thrust Leo's Minox and tiny tape recorder into her clutch purse, but knew she could never let the film showing her ultimate degradation be developed and printed. But her story was on tape, and she knew that, in the hands of a skilled writer and editor like Frank Calvin, it was bound to be the story of the year! And, of course, she would share the by-line. She had to restrain herself from running through the massed drinkers to him, and waited until he eased over to her table and made a show of moving in on her as a half-drunken stud would do to a pretty girl.
"You've had a busy night on the job," Frank Calvin said. "Feel up to talking?"
"No," Candy Moss murmured. "But I have to turn in the story, don't I?"
In a flat voice she told him everything that had happened, not sparing herself. She found it impossible to look at his eyes, even though they were concealed behind dark glasses. He whistled softly when he heard of Leo Belcher's involvement with the drug operation.
"You believe it?" he pressed.
"That boy killed him for what he did to me. If he'd do that for me, I don't think he'd lie."
"Where are the pix of the shoot-out?" he said. "The boss goose wants them in the worst way."
"They're at Fuentes' hacienda - along with my press cards and everything else."
"Then we have to go get the bundle," Calvin said.
"Me go back there? Are you crazy? It will be swarming with cops!"
"Fuentes is alive and in a hospital and in no condition to talk - or so the legmen tell us. The regular Mexican cops don't dare mess around his palace. I've got credentials, and you're my chick for the moment, and I go there. You know the layout. We grab your stuff and split. Chances are nobody will be around anyway - when something like this happens, everyone concerned takes off. You game?"
"I'll go with you," the girl said reluctantly.
It appeared Calvin had been right - there seemed to be no activity around Fuentes' hacienda. Calvin parked on a hill overlooking the place for nearly a half hour and there was no sign of police. He produced a Swiss army knife which he promised would open any lock. Boldly he drove up and somewhat to his surprise found the front door ajar. He pushed it open and they went in.
As far as Candy could tell, the place looked just as it had when the bikers had gotten drunk enough for her to make her escape, with the exception of expended flash bulbs and film wrappers apparently left behind by whatever police had investigated. She even found her shoulder bag with camera, film and credentials intact.
She and Calvin never heard them, because this time they came in bare feet, silently, having left the hot bikes over a hill. They had brought only their guns and knives, the four of them, angry and ready to kill.
"Puta!" the tall leader spat at her, leering. "We finally believed you. Believed you did not know Fuentes! That you had no part of his rip-off! But when you ran away from us, you went straight to his woman, Francine! The lesbian bitch. And you were eager to make love with her!"
"Who the hell are these clowns?" Calvin asked.
"They're the ones who de-nutted Fuentes," Candy managed to say calmly. "They are in the dope business. Fuentes took their smack and they don't like that. They seem to think I have something to do with it. They were involved with the raid on the Brush Rabbit."
Without blinking an eye, Calvin said, "Well, if that's the case - we know Fuentes was a crooked cop - then these fellows will want to talk to us and tell us all they know about him."
"What is this?" the leader said, suddenly alert.
"We are newspaper reporters. From the San Diego Express," Calvin replied. "My name is Frank Calvin. I am one of the editors. We were suspicious of the actions of our assistant managing editor, Leo Belcher, who was killed a few hours ago. For months we have been investigating Capitan Porfirio Fuentes. I have my press cards in my pocket, if you would like to see them."
"A fucking reporter!" one of them said with disgust. "Let's see."
"Don't get nervous with those guns," Calvin said. Slowly he drew his wallet from his pants, lifting it under the shirt which he wore, which was a size too large and hung well below his hips. He passed it over and they thumbed through it. The leader tossed it back with a sigh of unhappiness. Calvin grinned as he slipped it under his shirt and into his pocket and asked, "Satisfied?"
"You appear to be what you say," the leader replied. He shook his head sadly. 'There will be a great fuss when they find your bodies. We shall kill Senor Reporter first, then fuck the girl one last time."
"I don't think so," Calvin said, his hand reappeared, and now it held a 9 mm Browning automatic. Without appearing to aim, he rapidly triggered it three times. Three of the four fell, blood spurting from their bodies. The leader had managed to whirl and run before Calvin's bullet took him high on the back, just under the left shoulder blade. The force of the shot spun him around and the reporter coolly shot him once more.
"Oh, Jesus!" Candy screamed as the lifeless bodies tumbled and she watched Calvin snap a new, fully-loaded clip into the smoking gun. "I never thought you... "
"Never thought I'd have a gun and use it? You think I'd have come to this goddamned place without being loaded for bear?" he retorted. "These are fucking animals - nothing more. Not worth the price of the bullets. Let's haul ass out of here - there's a story to be written, girl!"
It was a good idea which didn't work.
No sooner had they left the entrada of the hacienda than they were surrounded by swarthy men in neat suits. The men had machine pistols and rifles, and there were five of them.
"Oh, shit, it's Carlos Brazil," Calvin said with a sigh. "Fuentes' Number One pistolero. And his friends from the shit house."
"That's not good, is it?" Candy said.
"It does not have to be bad," the lean man said with a grin. "You have some property which belongs to my friend Fuentes. In his absence, I must take it back. We have no reason to be harsh with you - unless you force us. We do not care what you print in your paper. We do not care that you have removed from this earth four undesirables. We are civilized men."
"What's this cat trying to say, Cal?" Candy blurted.
"He is thinking somehow you've got a lot of heroin or cocaine or something that Fuentes was handling, and he wants it."
"Ridiculous!" the girl snapped back. "He's out of his mind!"
"I will overlook the insult," Brazil said, but his eyes told her it was not forgotten. "You had some difficulty here last night. You got away, and met Francine. Francine had what we want with her. We know she does not have it now. She said you took it when you left her, stealing her car."
"I took her car. About the rest, I don't know a thing," Candy cried.
"We have no more time to talk." Carlos Brazil looked at both Calvin and Candy with calculated contempt. To Calvin he said, "Do you care anything for this blonde cunt?"
"She's just a dumb kid," Calvin said. "She got her ass in deep where it doesn't belong. If you think she was moving dope for that bastard Fuentes, you're out of your fucking skull!"
"So you do care for her," Brazil replied. "Well, if we hurt her enough, perhaps you can persuade her to talk. I think you are right - she is just a dumb cunt! But if you see her subjected to unspeakable things, and plead with her, she may break down and tell us what we want to know. What happened to Fuentes was nothing compared with what will happen to her - and you! If she is hurt, and you see it and beg her, she may talk to save you!"
The black-clad men worked with precision. In less than a minute, Candy and Frank Calvin were dragged into the big, high-ceilinged room which had been the scene of Candy's initial degradation and the castration of Fuentes. Calvin was tied to the same wall, and groping male hands stripped Candy naked. She was pressed down on the big sofa again and her legs cruelly jerked apart as Brazil casually removed his clothes. He took his time, and it was almost unbearable for Candy to watch with fear-glistening eyes as he finally dropped his shorts and a cock so long and thick that it seemed to dwarf the rest of him sprang out at an acute angle from his almost-skinny body.
"Oh, Nooooo... " she moaned, not knowing exactly what was in store for it, but sure she was going to be defiled again. Had she known what they wanted to learn, she would gladly have told them... but she didn't know. And that was one thing she was sure they wouldn't believe. Even as she tried to prepare herself for the ordeal, she begged, "Please, don't... "
"Shut it out of your mind, Candy," Frank Calvin said with a grimace of pain as rawhide thongs were tightened around his wrists, holding him helpless. 'They'll fuck you and there's nothing you can do... If I could spill my guts I would, but I don't know any more about where the goddamn dope is than you do! Try to bear up, kid!"
With dulled eyes, Candy watched Carlos Brazil slowly approach her. He was stoking the thick, hard shaft of his penis, squeezing it until the mushroom-shaped head bulged to unbelievable size. She knew her body would have to accept it - and how many others! She had no strength with which to fight what was to come. She could only submit and hope to survive.
In sorry acceptance of her fate, she slowly spread her legs, opening the tight slit of her fair-haired cunt to the lewd gaze of the men, who were also shedding their clothes. She was sure they would kill her when it was done and they discovered she really couldn't tell them what they wanted to know.
"I can't stop you," she said softly. "Do it. Fuck me!"
"Shit, I think what you want is more than one cock at a time," Brazil said, obscenely grinning down at her as he stroked his hard, thick spike of flesh. "We'll take care of that, you whore! Roll over!"
Candy knew what he had in mind - he was going to sodomize her just as her editor had! Her rectum was still tender from the earlier invasion. Quickly, she clamped her legs together and drew herself into a tight ball on the couch, but the men were on her instantly, slapping her, grabbing her legs and arms, pulling her over onto her belly and prodding her naked young buttocks up high as the lean Mexican crawled between her wide-splayed legs.
Tears of shame streamed down her face as she looked up to meet Calvin's tortured stare. She felt Brazil mounting her from the rear, the blood-swollen rubbery head of his cock sliding between her wide-splayed ass-cheeks, wetting itself in the secretions which were already involuntarily flowing from her tight little cunt. She moaned and, without volition, undulated her lushly ripened body back toward the hot searching penis. She could not deny her own sensuality, not the lewd way she responded to the mere contact with a penis, even in such degrading a situation.
"Oooooooohhhh!!!" Candy moaned, unable to control her quivering body as it sought his teasing cock. She wanted the hard fleshy staff in her cunt, but instinctively knew it was going to be rammed hard up her sore anal opening, but she wanted it! She whispered, "In.. put it in... NOW!"
"I knew you were a hot bitch, but not this hot," the man kneeling behind her lewdly-waving buttocks said. "Get your asshole loose, because I'm going to fill it, cunt!"
Candy braced herself for the impending assault on her rectum. She hardly flinched when she felt the hot, rubbery tip pressing against her sphincter. She only drew a deep breath and let it out suddenly as the velvet-smooth blunt end stretched her anus and popped inside the guardian ring. Then she gasped softly, and swayed her ass lewdly, feeling it inch deeper and deeper into her hot rectal channel. She groaned softly at the pain, but it was not as bad as it had been just hours before when Leo had taken her this way. She wondered if a girl got used to being sodomized, just in her pussy. Well, whether it felt good or not, she had to endure this humiliation and hope that somehow, she would be rescued, or could manage to pull herself out of the sickening situation.
She felt the hot long length of his penis sliding up into her anus, pushing rippling waves of tender, sensitive flesh before it, and she began to moan in mingled pain and pleasure.
"You like this, cunt?" Brazil said mockingly.
"I want you all the way in me," Candy said shamelessly. "If you're going to do it, I want to feel it!"
"Damn, you're begging!" he chortled. "Well, here it comes! Move your fucking ass!"
Grasping her hips, he lunged toward her. Candy couldn't repress a scream of pain as the massive cudgel tore up into her straining back passage like a hot bar of steel. She felt his balls smack against her wide-stretched ass-cheeks and bounce on the wetly throbbing lips of her cunt, hitting her clitoris as it rose in excitement at the defilement of her body.
"Oh, fuck!" the impaled girl cried out involuntarily. "Fuck my ass, you son-of-a-bitch! Get in deeper!"
"Goddamn! You really want cock!" Brazil cried out as he felt her tight anal muscles milking at his penis. "Well, we'll fix you up good! Jose - stick your prick in her pussy!"
With a wiry strength Candy didn't realize the thin man had, Brazil tipped her onto her side, then over on top of him, so he was thrust to the hilt in her painfully-stretched anus. With her back pressed against his chest, her legs flailed futilely in the air. Without hesitation, one of the other men flopped on her voluptuously squirming body, his cock huge and hard. She cried out as his hot throbbing penis forced through the wetly clenching outer lips of her pussy.
"Aaaaauuuuuug geeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhh!!!!" she cried out as the burly man on top of her continued to ram his iron-hard spear of lust-gorged flesh up into her tight little cunt, driving up into her so hard that his balls made a loud, wet smacking sound when they hit her sorely-stretched loins.
She was filled to the hilt - fore and aft -with rampant cocks, and she almost fainted as the agony swept through her skewered young body. She fought to free herself, but every movement only seemed to help them go deeper and deeper into her stretched passages.
The pain was almost unbearable. She could feel the two hot hard penises rubbing against each other inside her churning body, separated only by the thin membranes of her cuntal and anal passages. She writhed and moaned as tears of shame and pain spilled from her tightly-closed eyelids.
For an eternity she endured it, being buffetted between the two raping males. And then the thought of what she must look like swam into her confused mind. Her young, voluptuous body being buffeted like a mass of foam rubber between the furiously-fucking men! She became aware that the pain gradually was vanishing, and now what she was beginning to feel was pure, sensual pleasure. She wanted this, now that it was happening and unavoidable! Out of her mind, she began to fuck urgently with them, trying to move her body to the wild tempo they set with their viciously driving cocks. She undulated, her hot loins surging with them, and she began to mewl and cry out softly, then louder and louder.
"Oh, you bastards!!! Fuck me! Fuck me harder... deeper! You feel so fucking good! Grind your asses it is so fucking wild... FUCK MEEEEE! FUCK MY CUNT!!! FUCK MY ASS!!! SQUEEZE MY TITS!"
"God damn! She really digs!" Carlos Brazil grunted. He rammed his long throbbing member deep into her straining little rectum and felt her internal muscles grab his spearing flesh. "Hey, Francisco! Stick your cock in her mouth!"
With glazed eyes, Candy saw one of the other intruders approach, peeling back the thick foreskin of his long throbbing penis, exposing the glistening velvet-textured glans. She was aware of nothing but the two men who were fucking her so beautifully. Whatever they wanted her to do, she would do!
She parted her lips and eagerly gulped at the offered shaft of male flesh.
She almost gagged as the Mexican rammed himself deep into her wetly ovalled lips. Her nostrils flared as she fought for breath around the thickness of his eagerly pulsing cock thrusting deep into her throat, the bulbous knob almost choking her as it hit her tonsils. Her tongue wrapped around it and she began to bob her head up and down on the thick penis, sucking hard. She felt strong hands grasping her head and tangling in her hair and pulling her straining mouth right to the base of the long pistoning shaft.
This was the ultimate sensation, she thought wildly as she sucked and fucked furiously with her mouth, pussy and anus... a woman filled in every orifice by a virilely pulsating cock!
Now, if they could only cum all at once!!!!
Urgently, she strived to make it happen. With the sinuous movements of a wild snake, she twisted her naked buttocks back against Brazil's pumping penis, and flexed her tightly-gripping cunt around the second invading male member while her lips tightened in a demanding ring around the third rigidly heated cock in her mouth as she sucked and fucked with all her strength. She heard them panting and grunting as they strove to service her. Their lust-hardened shafts of flesh were filling her brutally, reaming into her plundered pussy and clenching anus and devouring mouth. They were close - and so was she!
Writhing and sucking and biting and screwing with all her strength, she brought them to the point where they could no longer prolong their pleasure with her defiled body.
She felt her rectum suddenly become hot and slippery as Carlos Brazil began to cum far up inside her straining rectum, his wildly jerking cock drilling into her soft yielding body. And seconds later, the thick pulsing penis in her mouth erupted with great gushing spurts that made her cheeks balloon as she tried to suck and swallow while the heavy-laden instrument rammed deep into her straining throat. Her lips ovalled urgently around its base as her fingers grasped and milked the semen-laden balls tightly. Even as this happened, she felt her palpitating pussy being filled with wave after spurting wave of white hot semen from the man who was fucking her there.
"Aaaauuuugggghhh!!!" Candy gasped out as she gulped for air even as her mouth tried to draw even more of the liquid passion from the ejaculating penis buried between her greedily sucking hps. And then, shrieking out her own orgasm, she began convulsing - her naked young body undulating so powerfully that the men were almost unseated. They all collapsed, spent, together. Trembling, Candy felt the three diminishing cocks being slowly withdrawn from her satiated body. She caught a glimpse of Frank Calvin's tortured eyes, and a wave of shame and humiliation flooded over her.
She could not have escaped being used - but did she have to enjoy it? Like a street harlot?
With the wanton passion subsiding, she thought of how low she must have looked to Calvin. She wanted to cry... but there was no time left for self-pity or repentance.
The one man who had been left out of the gang-rape stumbled into the room and fell to his knees, his face gray with terror.
Close behind him came men with guns in their hands.
She heard Carlos Brazil curse in Mexican, saw him dive from the sofa toward his clothes, where his pistol lay on the top of the heap. He barely touched it before the sound of gunfire filled the vaulted room. Candy screamed and tried to bury herself in the cushions of the sofa. She heard the angry buzz of bullets cutting the air and smacking into flesh and walls and woodwork.
With glazed eyes, she saw Brazil and his cohorts violently slain, their bodies jerking as heavy slugs smashed their flesh. As the sounds of death faded, she became hysterical, screaming and trying to get up and run, until strong hands restrained her, bruising her naked, trembling body. A hard hand slapped her face repeatedly until she cried out in pain and managed to focus her terrified eyes on the man who was hitting her.
Joe Crow! The old Tijuana hand for the Express!
What was he doing here in this scene of carnage? He was supposed to be in San Francisco, she thought dully, and then toppled over in a dead faint...
Hours passed before she got the story straight. Joe Crow and a seemingly endless number of secret agents of the Mexican and American governments - and then skilled general assignment reporters and rewrite men - extracted every bit of information she had. Her zealously-guarded film was processed and immediately impounded.
It was late at night when she was finally able to relax in a penthouse apartment high above Mission Bay. The authorities had finished with her. The Express had put out its first extra edition in years and her story, although she hadn't written a word of it, was spread all over the front page and there were sidebar stories covering other angles, and two full pages of pictures, most of them hers. The floor was littered with tear sheets and galley proofs and wearily she lay back on a sofa, blinking tired eyes at Frank Calvin. There were some things she had to get straight.
"How did Joe Crow happen to show up with the cavalry? And who the hell were those guys?" she asked.
"Joe no sooner got to his new job in Frisco than the story of the shoot-out at the Brush Rabbit hit the wires. His new boss sent him down. He knows everybody, and he collected a bunch of U.S. Treasury and Interpol guys, who are the ones who pulled your ass out from the fire. They're still sorting it out - and would you believe the dope they were looking for actually was stashed in that Mercedes you swiped from Francine? Your ass was sitting on twenty million bucks." ~ "I'll be go-to-hell!" Candy exclaimed. "What about Francine, and Fuentes?"
"Fuentes is in the hospital wondering if he'll ever raise a hard-on again. Francine split."
"And Leo - what about him?" she went on.
"They found the son of a bitch's carcass. Don't worry, it'll be smoothed over. The Express has plenty of clout." He grinned and lit a cigarette. "Right now, we're wondering what on God's earth we should do with you."
"Who's wondering?" she demanded, suspicious of his grin.
"Well, girl, I will lay a secret upon you. The publisher isn't exactly a dumbhead. He heard rumbles that Leo the Lecher wasn't playing clean. Months ago, they pulled me off the night city desk and sent me looking. I haven't been out playing with my boat. I almost had a case made on Leo when you fucked it all up - but it's worked out. Sort of a special assignment." He chuckled. "You know, that church page job is sweet. How would you like to take it over?"
"My ass!" Candy said defiantly. "And what makes you think you could put me there?"
"You want to try more Tijuana?"
"No."
"Well, they need another hand in Society."
"Get fucked!" she retorted brazenly.
"I'm thinking about that," he said, grinning. "As of now, I am sitting in Leo's old catbird seat. I am assistant managing editor. I am thinking that if you had a job where you could come in at seven, leave at nine, you'd have plenty of time to get ready for the first wild lay of the day by noon, which is when I knock it off from now on."
Candy stared speculatively at him for a moment, then dimpled. "Leo did say you were the best man on the staff. Are you?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," he answered.
The young blonde girl continued to watch him, then she nodded. "When do I find out?"
"Now if you want."
"I want. And you'd better be good after all those other studs."
He was! After three hours, a completely contented Candy snuggled up to his nakedly perspiring body. She traced the strong line of his chin with her finger. "You know," she said sleepily, "I'm going to make a helluva Church Editor. And if you continue to treat me the way you just have, I may even get religion too, some day."
Calvin turned his head to answer her, but she was already asleep.
"Little girl," he said quietly, "you've had a busy day."
