Archive Note: Efforts have been made to remove any errors in the following text that were caused by the process of creating this E-book. In the interests of authenticity, the remaining misspellings, whether the result of the author's mistakes or typesetting errors, were left as found in the original pocketbook.
CHAPTER ONE
Well, of all the shit-assed things to do, Agnes Reed thought as she spied the slim Chris-Craff plowing up the water no more than a thousand feet from the shore. Without regard for the fresh polish on her nails she reached for the binoculars and adjusted them to her eyes.
The door bell cut into her train of thought, bus as she was not accustomed to answering her own door she disregarded the sound and continued trying to bring the glasses into focus so that she could ascertain the activity on the boat.
The second peal of the chimes reminded her that she had sent Margo to the market for hair shampoo not less than a quarter hour before. Reluctantly she placed the binoculars on the white wrought iron and glass end table and rose from the heavily padded chaise lounge. When she reached the double doors leading into the living room she couldn't help but look back. Out the Florida room windows she was almost certain that she saw a woman in a red bikini climb upon the deck as the craft headed farther out into Biscayne Bay.
Damn bastard, she thought, as the impatient, uninvited guest touched the bell button for the third time.
A quick glance in the hall mirror reminded her that she was not prepared to meet any guest, uninvited or not. She ran a hand through the close cropped, silver fox hair and uttered a short cry of pain. The polish was still damp and had caught at the strands. She looked at the four ruined nails and uttered a vicious oath under her breath.
Major problems Agnes Reed took with calm serenity; the minor skirmishes left her floundering in a maze. She was now in just such a tizzy-not knowing how in the hell she was going to push the tail of her blouse back into her hip-huggers, without smearing the polish on the other hand, and one look told her that she had made an even bigger mess of her hair.
With a reluctant shrug, of the delicately boned shoulders, she snapped open the front door.
"Mrs Reed? Mrs. Agnes Reed?" He touched a finger to the visor cap in a half salute.
"Yes," she answered quizzically. Letting her eyes roam over the smoothly shaved handsome face, she reminded herself that it had been one hell of a long time since she had seen a naval officer, let alone an attractive one.
"I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm Lieutenant Gerald Farris of the Office of Naval Personnel. May I come in?"
"Business or ... pleasure, Lieutenant?" The slightest edge of a dusty tone filtered through her voice.
"Business, Mrs. Reed!" With the emphasis that was placed on her married title she surmised that it must have something to do with Harrison, her husband, and wordlessly stepped aside and with a sweep of the arm that was unnecessary, ushered the young man into the house.
She put every wile known to women in her walk back toward the Florida room. The young officer removed the cap, tucking it under his left arm as he transferred the tan attache case to his right, almost in the same movement. He tried not to notice the hip action as he followed in her wake.
Agnes was instantly aware that her dalliance was to no avail and an old rebelion whelled up in her mind. She was pro-Marine and anti-Navy. He's probably just as cold a fish as the other naval officers I've known, she thought, as they left the correctly decorated living room and stepped down into the three-sided room of glass.
As she motioned to the chair she wished him to occupy, she noted the Academy service ring. This added to her immediate dislike, for from experience she knew that the professional sailors were interested in marriage of each other and she had had her fill of both types during the war.
The sun had lost itself behind a cloud and the yacht was momentarily lost from view. She flopped back down on the lounge and reached for a bottle of polish remover to begin the chore of repairing the damage.
Farris placed the attache case on his muscular legs and unleashed the catches. From the interior he removed an unused yellow legal pad and a fat manila folder, neatly secured with a wide rubber hand. Using the case as a portable desk he busied himself in preparation. It was all a sham, for he had gone over the file hundreds of times in Washington, and at least a dozen times on the commercial flight before it landed at Miami International Airport He used the time to let his brown eyes steal side-long glances at Agnes Reed.
This definitely was not the type that he had expected to encounter, nor did the home fit in with his preconceived notions. The Agnes Reed he saw before him belied her fifty-three years. The skin was smooth and creamy without trace of crows-feet at the corner of the hazel eyes or the small heart shaped mouth. Even without make-up, as she now was, she could be taken for a woman in her late twenties or early thirties.
Farris had never lived in a rich world nor a woman's world and therefore was naive to the fact that money could buy many of the attributes of youth and beauty. And it cost Harrison Reed a small fortune each year for Agnes to spend six weeks at Main Chance in Arizona and a year long array of expensive diet foods and beauty treatments.
Jerry Farris had been quite prepared to greet some overdressed, highly painted babe who was still clinging desperately to a thin thread of youth, but not this poised, sexy woman.
A hundred droplets of rain water pelted unexpectedly upon the glass jalousies. The boat was returning and Agnes grabbed at the binoculars without regard for her guest. She was right! Next to the man at the helm nestled a shapely little number in a very revealing swim suit. One of Morris Montgomery's hands remained steady upon the wheel but the other was free to roam at will, unmindful that it was being spied upon. Agnes recognized the girl as the receptionist from the Montgomery offices.
Three nights before that same hand had played down Agne's back.
"Agnes, you've got to let me take you fishing while Harrison is in Washington and Helen is cavorting around Europe this spring!" Morris Montgomery had a smooth line and hands to match. He had almost reached the curve of her ass when they were joined by the curvacious third wife of the corporation lawyer, who owned the estate next to the Reed's.
"But Agnes is such a poor fisherwoman and always turns me down," Helen Montgomery playfully chided her husband, who was fifteen years her senior. As she took another sip of her cocktail, at her own Bon Voyage party, Helen let her eyes rest meaningfully on Agnes. The message was unmistakable.
'Touch' my husband, sweetheart, and it will be the last husband you ever touch!'
And now he's got some little trollop out for a matinee on water, thought Agnes, and I'm stuck here with this clown. Her anger got the best of her and she slammed the glasses back on the table with such force that it shattered the top. The sharp cracking sound thoroughly startled Jerry Farris.
"Is anything the matter, Mrs. Reed?"
"Nothing," she barked, "now what in the hell do you want?"
These past six weeks had been hell on her, what with a steady stream of investigators, reporters and then more investigators, and always from some new branch of government she had never known existed.
Carlton Harrison Reed had been extremely successful in the field of aviation, being in on the ground floor right after the first world war. He saw the storm clouds rising during the nineteen thirties and geared his plants for the coming onslaught But he was also a dreamer and got wind of what the Germans were planning for pilotless flight. His colleagues laughed at the amount of money he put into research, his stock holder scowled, and the government chided him and held back big defense contracts. Ten years later they were banging on his door and Cape Kennedy and it's mission would have been nowhere without the early day research at Reed Aviation. Now the President wanted to appoint him to a Cabinet position, which one Agnes could never remember, but she now felt it must have something to do with the Navy.
"Mrs. Reed, how long have you been married?" The question was asked very slowly.
Agnes hated people who could not come right to the point. She felt like she was under yet another microscope and therefore blurted out, to shake up the pruddish investigator, "Which time?" Immediately she was sorry for her flippant answer, for it had never before come up in the questioning sessions, but she noticed with a slight twinge of fear that her comment had not altered the stoic expression on the square jawed face.
She quickly went on before he could comment on the apparent slip. "I married Mister Reed during June of 1956, here in Miami."
"And how long were you married to Dick Henderson?" Farris did not change his expression, but a tiny glimmer in the soft brown eyes showed that he had enjoyed slicing away her past with one simple sentence. He noted the quick look of alarm that he had fully expected.
Agnes fought to keep her breath from rushing from the lungs. She hadn't thought of Richard, really seriously, in twenty-five years. She resented this search into her past, but determined to remain calm.
"He was my husband for seven years, Lieutenant." She might as well have been saying, yes, I had a cocker puppy as a child.
"That would have been from 1934 to 1941?" He dropped his eyes and, taking a pen from the inside coat pocket, began to put large scrawls across the lined sheet.
"My, you are accurate with details," she was amazed that she could daub at her nails with the wet little pieces of cotton without shaking.
"That's part of my job." A smile crossed his face for the first time. It erased the cold military exterior and exchanged it for a glow that made the whole surface spring to life. She almost felt comfortable with him again, till he asked, "How did you meet him?"
Not knowing which husband he referred to she hid her confusion in a quick reply. "Through friends, right here in Miami."
"I was speaking of your first husband."
She swung her legs over the side of the lounge and sat up straight, glaring at Farris. "What in the hell does my former marriage have to do with my present husband and his appointment?"
"Appointment, ma'dam?"
"Yes, damnit, appointment. APPOINTMENT, idiot. This thingamajig that they want my husband to accept in Washington." In her anger she began to blow viciously on her wet nails.
Farris was perplexed. He ran a nervous hand through his short crew-cut auburn hair. Some one had goofed and not filled him in on this aspect of the case.
"Mrs Reed, this may throw a completely different light on the reason that I am here. Would you mind if I used your phone to make a collect long-distance call?"
"I have no objection, of course, but your mission is still somewhat of a mystery to me."
"If s not that secret," he gave a disarming smile, and I'm sure the phone call will rectify the situation."
"You'll find an extension in the hallway," Agnes motioned with her hand but made no move to lead him to the instrument.
CHAPTER TWO
As soon as the officer was out of sight she quietly arose and took a quick look at the attache case. Damn, she thought, he's taken the manila folder with him. She stomped on into her own bedroom. One touch told her that the polish was dry and she took a small pair of clippers and cut out the few strands of hair that still had bits of the red lacquer clinging to it. Her hair was cut short and therefore did not need more than a few pulls of a brush to bring it back to a semblenance of order.
She stepped out of her clothes and selected a simple peasant blouse and full skirt. She loved to wear heavy make-up, but an inner voice told her to keep it lady-like.
The voice still came from the hallway as she reentered the living room. The rain was coming down in rushing torrents now and she could barely see to the waters edge. It was getting so dark, although mid-afternoon, that she felt obliged to turn on a few of the scattered table lamps.
Agnes gave a mental shrug and headed for the bar. She hated to drink alone, but she wasn't alone, was she?
The tall tapering pitcher was in the center of the coffee table and Agnes was curled on the couch demurely sipping a martini when Jerry Farris reentered the room
"Well, what happened to Mrs. Reed?" He looked toward the Florida room in mock surprise.
"She shed a few more years. How about a drink?"
"Don't mind if I do. I've got to wait for them to call me back. The Admiral was still at lunch."
"Navy hasn't changed much, has it?"
"I guess not." He accepted the frosted glass and sat on the other end of the couch.
"So, is it still a guessing game?" Agnes toyed with the olive in her glass and looked with sly appraisal at the young man, who she figured was young enough to be her son.
"Not really, Mrs. Reed...."
"Just a minute young man. Lets drop the formal stuff. If you can drink my liquor you can call me Agnes. Alright?"
"Alright, Agnes. My name is Jerry."
"Now that we are friends," she cooed, "what's this all about?"
"Routine. Just trying to close out a lot of files that have been pending for a number of years. We know that Marine Sergeant Henderson was reported missing in the Philippines. There are a lot of missing parts to the story and we need your help in filling them in."
"I see." Agnes Henderson had rehearsed her story many times, those long years ago, but had never had to use it, now she wondered if she could remember all the details. "That was over twenty-seven years ago, Jerry. I would imagine more years than you have been alive."
"By just about three. May I refill your glass?"
"Please do, and feel free to help yourself. My God, how you do make the memory spin backwards." She took a big gulp of the drink and the fumes caught in her nose. It was a good brand of gin, but the very smell made her retch thinking of those years when the gin had been illegal....
* * *
Agnes Kastilliano raised her dress, for a nickel, at the age of fourteen, so a neighborhood tough could run his hand over the warm smooth slit of her pussy. A week later she made him pay a dime because he wanted to insert his finger. He almost chickened out until she bargained around to agreeing to hold onto his cock while he did it. He wanted to go further, but she had heard her old man screaming at her pregnant older sister for doing the same thing, and she didn't want to go through that abuse.
For the depression, that was a lot of money and Agnes knew she would have to give in sooner or later or lose out. Her old man ran a little market, but he was too free and easy and carried most of the neighborhood on credit, which meant that she, her two older sisters and three brothers usually went without. Her brother Angio was two years her senior, and always seemed to have an extra dime. He would never say where exactly he got it, only that he had done some work over at the Youth Center.
One day she saw Angio going into the basement with one of the Youth Directors. She went around to the back of the building and peered in through the dusty window. Angio was lying on an old cot with his pants down around his knees. The director was keeling at his waist. Anges had never seen her brother's prick before and was surprise that he was so much larger than she tough. She watched as the man lowered his head over her brother. She was fascinated and watched transfixed until the dime exchanged hands.
That afternoon she told the tough what she would do for his dime. He was amused at first and then took her up on the offer.
The tough made his money by delivering brown paper parcels to various offices in downtown Chicago. He didn't know what they contained but by the sloshing sound they made it was not difficult to figure out that it was booze.
His contact saw him with Agnes one day and made a far reaching proposal. Three nights later she did not come home all night. A leading gangster had paid twenty-five bucks for her to spend the night with him. Agnes only saw five of the loot as the middle man had taken fifteen and the tough five for his share in setting up the meeting.
When the bruises and cuts that were administered by her father had healed, Agnes left home. Her life in Cicero was one of gin, fucking, fine clothes and more gin and fucking. For the nation December 5, 1933 was a big holiday. For Agnes it was the end of an era. The free money from illegal booze was coming to a halt and at eighteen she was a has-been in the gangster bedroom set.
Through careful manipulation she had scraped together a thousand dollars, a monumental sum in a land that was still plagued by wholesale unemployment. With her cache skillfully sewn inside her bra, Agnes departed for the land of sunshine, California. Three years of high living had warped her taste buds and the small hoard lasted less than three months.
The Rosedale Dance Palace catered to the young single males and especially the service man. The girls were allowed to keep half of the dime-a-dance tab, and were strictly forbidden to date a customer, but if they really hustled could make a good fifty cents an hour.
For Agnes a night's earnings were equivalent to what she formerly would have tipped the attendant in the powder room, each time around. It at least covered her half of the rent, for she had been forced to vacate the glamour of the Hollywood apartment for the squalor of a Los Angeles cold water flat. She had selected one of the married dance hall girls as a room mate so that life could be peaceful and quiet once she was home.
Florence 'Flo' Russo worked for the Marine husband who was off doing some kind of advisory work in China. A lot of Marine wives were left alone for two reasons, one-they were married secretly because their husbands were not of a rank high enough to be married, and two-a lot of Marines were training the Nationalist Army so that they could push the Communists into their long march northwest to Yenan.
"They killed him," Flo wailed out her sorrow to Agnes, as she clutched the telegram informing her of her husband's death, "and now they offer me a choice on his insurance money. I don't want it! It's blood money!"
"Honey, be sensible. Fred wouldn't have been paying for the insurance if he didn't want to protect you if anything happened to him. But be smart, kid, don't take those five thousand smackeroos in one bite. Let them pay you out at a hundred a month. That way they got to keep paying you the interest money each year. Honey, play it right and you don't have to work for the next five to seven years."
The Palace was alive that night with a lot of new faces, and all Marines. Rumors ran through the evening that this group were being trained to leave for China.
When the idea hit Agnes she couldn't remember afterwards. Perhaps it was when she overheard the bartender talking to one of the training sergeants.
"Yah, you'll never get me into that chink land. I feel sorry for these bastards, only one in three will ever see the States again. Those slant eyed commies play rough, and they got manpower to burn."
One in three, Agnes mused as she took a break and went into the powder room. One of the girls was showing off a cheap dime store engagement ring. She had met the Marine the night before and they would drive to Yuma over the weekend to get married. "Believe me girls," she chirped "if you ever want to catch a man, now's the time. Ain't a damn one of those studs that aren't chompin' at the bit to get to an altar before the sail."
With a couple hundred of them in their green uniforms, they all looked alike to Agnes. But one in three weren't bad odds. A two dollar bet on a marriage license could return a five thousand dollar winner or a husband.
Her earning took quite a drop that night for she was playing the field, looking for just the right man. He had to be big, rough and aggressive, and not afraid to stand up and fight on the front lines, and thus come home a flag-draped hero.
Dick Henderson had been eyeing Agnes all evening long, but he was still ninety percent clumsy farm boy, and didn't think she would dance with him and thus did not want to cause himself undo embarassment by being turned down.
The third time that Agnes caught the saucer blue eyes peeking out at her from under the heavy blond eyelashes she knew she had her patsy. He was large boned and the scars on his face attested to a few scraps. His uniform and shoes were immaculate, thus she was sure that he was gung-ho and ready to lay down his life for the Marines. What did they always call it, she tried to recall,-oh, yes, semper-fi.
"Hi, blond-boy," she edged up next to him at the railing. "You haven't danced all evening."
"I really ain't much for dancing, ma'm." Agnes turned and forced her elbows up on the wooden plank. Her breasts were automatically forced upward and out. He could not help but get a good look at the deep clevage.
Perhaps I could help you to learn?"
"I'm pretty stupid!" All the better, Agnes thought, but instead cooed, "Now your'e just putting me on."
He was a lousey dancer, but she was so quick on her feet that she could turn most of his awkardness into a form of dance. Whenever the bouncer was not looking she would break the rules and glide her right leg deep between his thighs. The first two times did not produce the desired results, but on the third pass of her leg over his own she could feel his cock stir into life. He endeavored to pull away and she advanced even farther.
"You don't have to do that to get me to dance with you again."
Agnes tilted her head back and let the laugh come free and easy. "It wasn't done to get you back onto the dance floor."
He looked panic striken. "You don't mean you are a...."
"Good God, no! I did it because you excite me. You're a very attractive man."
"Gosh!" He hung his head and his face became a deep scarlet. "No woman has ever even noticed me before, let alone said nice things to me."
"Oh, I'm sure that they have noticed, but haven't had an opportunity to show you how they feel."
"Do you really think so?"
"Sure, or I wouldn't say so. We don't have to sugar talk our customers in here, just dance with them. Now, give me a ticket and go get us a couple of Cokes, we'll sit this next one out."
When they were settled in a booth and Agnes had laced the drinks with the forbidden flask from her purse she tried to cast off the cold-hard exterior and replace it with teenage charm, something she had never really had in real life.
"What's a good looking, sweet gal like you doing in a place like this?"
Agnes let a false tear come to her eyes and turned her head away. "It's a long story, Dick, and were not allowed to discuss our personal lives."
"Well, that's a silly damn rule. You got something eatin' away at you and I'm a good listener. Here, I got enough tickets so we can sit out about ten dances."
"Well," she looked up at him from under the beaded eyelashes, "if you think it will be alright. After all you are a 'man' and should know best." He preened over the elevation from boy to man. "But if you see that bouncer coming our way you just start to laughing and joking so he won't get wise."
"You just leave every thing to me, little lady."
"Oh, Dick, I feel so much better already, just knowing I have a man to talk to. It was silly of me to have come to California in the first place. It all started so simple like. I had this lead role, you see, in our high school musical, (Agnes had never" gotten past the eighth grade), and this producer guy saw the show and came around to talk to my folks.
"So I'm brought to Hollywood for a screen tests. But, oh Dick, it was horrible, "she hung her head and let out a few sobs," I was paid two hundred a week for five weeks and never did have my test. The only testing the producer wanted to do was with me on his couch. So I ran away."
"You poor kid." He took one of her hands to comfort her. "Why didn't you go back home?"
"I wanted to, but all of the money I had made had been spent on these fine new clothes and a big apartment. I really thought that I was going" to be a star and wouldn't have to worry about money. I just couldn't ask for money from home, what with the depression and all and my folks had their heart set on me being a movie actress."
"Do you still want to act."
"Oh, more than anything in the word, but not if I have to sleep my way in. I've got real talent, you know."
"That's easy to say, Dick Henderson, for a man, but a girl should never be left alone in this town unless she's a married woman, and then the wolfes stay away from her. Boy, if I were married I'd spend all my days going to drama classes and going from studio to studio to get small parts for experience, and then at night I'd cook and sew for my husband."
"What if your husband was out of town?"
"Then I'd study my lines and write him long letters about how I was doing."
"I though most actor type people liked to marry someone who was also in that line of business."
"Well, not me. I want a man who is a man not some queer type actor or director. I want to marry a real man ... like you."
"Gosh, Agnes, thanks for the compliment, but who would ever want a great big old hunk of bone like me?"
"I would, Dick" she said very softly. "I've only known you for a couple of hours, but I think I'm falling in love with you. You're not like any man I've ever known before," and these were the only truthful words out of her mouth in the past hour, he wasn't like any man she had ever known before. "Dick, you're good and gentle and understanding."
"Lord-a-mercy would you just look at me. I'm shaking like a leaf. Little gal, I fell head over heels in love with you the very second I spotted you and here I sit like a clunk and have you tell me that you' re in love with me."
Agnes quickly looked out from the booth and noting the distance away of any bouncer she took the strong chin in her hand and let a tender kiss touch the quivering male lips.
"I'm going to wake up from this dream in a minute and be mighty sorry that it's over."
"It's no dream, darling. Here, touch me to see that I'm for real."
He started to take her in his arms and then pulled back.
"This is nonsense, Agnes. It would never work."
"Why not?"
"You're going to be a great big famous movie star and I'm just private first class nobody."
"That doesn't matter when two people love each other."
"That's not all if it. I'm being shipped out in a week or so."
"Oh, no!" Her hand flew to her mouth and she bit at the lower knuckles in a pose of horror. "I can't let you go, now that I've found you."
"But, I'll be coming back. Will you wait for me?"
"Oh, it's cruel that we should have to wait, just as we've found a true love. I want to spend every minute with you until you leave."
"I can think of nothing I'd rather do, darling, but that would be just as bad as what that producer wanted you to do."
"But I love you, I didn't him!" She daubed at her eyes.
"Makes no difference, Agnes. I wouldn't want you to live in sin. Lord knows I want you so bad I can hardly sit still, but I'd never be able to look your father in the face if I did such a thing."
"Well ... well ... Oh, Dick," she beamed upon him a radiant smile. "It's so simple. I just thought how wonderfully simple it all can be. We can go to Yuma and get married and spend our time together as man and wife before you leave. That way it will be legal and you'll have someone to come home to and I'll have a husband so the wolves will stay away from me."
"Do you really mean it, darling?"
"Oh, yes! I've thought about this moment a great deal and this this is exactly how I want it."
But things did not work as Agnes had anticipated. Dick came back from China wounded six months later. In 1937 he was again sent to China, but this time because of the Sino-Japanese war. Again fate delt him a blow, but not severe enough to please Agnes. This time the wound took almost a year to heal and then they spent time traveling from Marine base to Marine base, with Dick always believing that she had given up her acting career because she loved him and wanted a career as a wife more than the other. He never knew that the nearest she came to an acting job was the demonstration of can openers at Bullock's during the Christmas rush. Every bit part she had always seemed to end up on the cutting room floor when they would go to see the picture. One time she had him convinced though that he had actually seen her in a mob scene. He saw the picture seven times to catch that fleeting second, and was sure that it was his wife.
In 1940 he was transferred to the Philippines. He sent her a round trip ticket on the Pan-Am Clipper to join him for Christmas 1941 he said he had hit it lucky during a crap game....
* * *
The phone brought Agnes back to the reality of the present. She opened a drawer on the end table and extracted an extension.
"Reed residence Oh, hello Margo ... Well, is that a fact! ... No, you best just take the bus on home when they will let you. Oh, don't worry about the shampoo. I can do it tomorrow....Oh, really! ... then I'll just take something out of the freezer ... Ok ... bye now."
Agnes had motioned Jerry to retake his seat as soon as she had heard Margo's soft southern drawl on the line.
"That was my maid. It seem we're in for quite a storm. The causeways are already flooded and they won't let private cars across. We seem to be stranded here on our little island."
"I came over by cab, can't they get across?"
"I rather doubt it. They wouldn't let Margo bring my car back and it's heavier than most taxicabs."
"Oh, my Lord!" He jumped from the couch and headed to the front door.
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"My suitcase! I came right here from the airport and left it in your driveway." A steady sheet of water was falling beyond the slight overhang of the doorway. The yard was a sea of moisture and in the midst of the ocean stood the canvas flight bag.
Disregarding the heavy downpour, Jerry raced for his grip. It was impossible to determine which was dripping the greatest amount of water on Agnes' front hallway carpet when the tall young man returned.
"Oh no, swabbie," Agnes bellowed, "stand pat. You're not going to drip through my whole house. Peel, while I get you a robe."
"But ma'm!" He looked down at the clothes that were clinging tightly to his skin.
"So stand there and catch cold. It's immaterial to me. But wipe up your mess." She opened the hall closet and took down several terry cloth towels stored there for guests. The first bedroom off the hall was her husband's. Upon her return with a robe, Jerry had removed his shirt, tie, coat and undershirt. They lay in a wet heap on one of the towels.
"Catch!" Before she turned she noted how high and firm were the pectoral muscles. His smooth skin was white and without a single hair upon the chest. Her men had always been coarse, with hair. This could be interesting, she told herself.
CHAPTER THREE
From the bar, where she was preparing a second shaker of martinis, she called, "When you get those wet things off we'll throw then in the dryer. You'd better check to see how wet the things in your flight bag are, so we can dry them out also."
She took the pitcher back to the couch. Just as she dropped back into her seat she saw the reflection in the mirror front of the bar. Jerry, not realizing he could be seen, put his arm through the robe and left the front open so he could tug down the wet pants and under shorts. He had already devoided himself of the squeaking shoes and socks.
Agnes couldn't get a good view, but what she saw she liked. It had been a good number of years since she had had an opportunity to feast her eyes on such a youthful form. Her conquests of late had been more her own contemporaries. This sight stirred fluids she thought had long been dried up.
The open flaps revealed that the uniform had been hiding wide firm thighs. They molded into femurs that were taut from recent football day. They molded into femurs that were taut from recent football days. The belly was nothing more than twin tendons that disappeared beneath a mass of chestnut brown ringlets. What lay below the forest held Anges in wonderment. The cream colored pillar extended a full half foot to the Norman casque helmet. This hood-shaped sepal was pink and matched in hue the loose swinging globes on either side. The drape of the bag told her that they had been put to little use.
"I'm ready," he called from the hallway.
"Ready for what?" She toyed with the words as she approached him.
"To be dried out!" He parried just enough to give her a sense that his words held a slight double meaning.
"The utility room is this way. For your clothes, that is."
"I didn't think you would try to put me in the dryer. I might be just a bit too large."
"They build contraptions now-a-days to fit all sizes, lieutenant." She squatted on her haunches to pull the ends of the towel over the soggy clothes. From his standing position Jerry had little difficulty in seeing exactly what she had intended for him to view. She was extremely proud f her firm breasts and arched her back so that the tapering curves of the mounds would show to advantage over the low cut top of the peasant blouse.
"You bring the rest," she commanded in a throaty voice as the bundle was slung over her shoulder. A move also calculated to make her chest thrust out more.
Quickly Agnes placed the heavier garments in the commercial sized tumbler, while separating the lighter things for the regular dryer.
"Damn, look at this!" Jerry took a wet-through pack of cigarets from his shirt pocket.
"No matter, I have plenty. Light me one of mine. They're here in my pocket" She pushed her hip out sideways as she continued to sort through the damp clothes.
The pocket on the full skirt was wide and deep. Jerry had to probe to find the rectangular package. He was almost positive that the thigh had been pressed forward to meet his searching hand. He was sure of the fact when he re-entered the cloth square to find the matches. The taut muscles had definitely greeted his open palm.
Jerry Farris was no virgin, but no expert either. His first encounter with sex had been in high school. In a fumbling petting manner he had tried fucking in the front seat of his father's car. The act was never culminated as the girl became frightened and he repulsed by her offensive odor.He had not tried again until he was in the Academy. His 'buddies' arranged a date with a hot number in New York. It had cost him twenty-five bucks, plus the charge for the hotel room, bottle of scotch and cab fares. There was no for pleasure. The bottle was never opened and the entire operation was completed in less than fifteen minutes. Jerry had received no pleasure, just a strong distaste. He felt that maybe sex just wasn't for him. He could not lower himself to be his own relief, and was sickened by the thought of receiving his pleasure from one of his buddies, as he knew several of them secretly shared each other's bodies.
The nearness of Agnes aroused an unanswered aspiration. He pressed his hand closer to the cloth and underlying skin.
"Hey! Your damn hands are still wet!" He pulled back as if shot.
Agnes took an extra towel and rubbed it over her own hands. "Lord, look at you. Maybe I should have put you in the dryer." With both hands she draped the cloth over his head and began to rub the bristly stubble of new cut crew-cut.
"Hey, leave some scalp!"
"Hush!" The towel was wiped across the forehead, eyes and chin. If this was to be the catalyst to bring them together, Agnes was going to use it to her fullest advantage. With both hands firmly grasping the terry-cloth she moved onto the neck and let the hands and towel part the robe lapels as she made circular drying motions on the chest.
When Jerry became aware of how far the robe had parted and that her eyes were riveted below the belt line he put natural reaction into play and tried to pull the gaping hole closed.
"I think I can handel the rest, myself," he said testily.
"Afraid I'm going to try and get this?" Without fear Agnes reached beneath the cloth and took hold of a handful of manly prick.
"Please, Mrs. Reed!"
"Please what, lieutenant? Please continue or please stop?" She had not loosened her hold, nor had he pulled away.
"Remember, I'm here on business."
"But, you can't continue that business until you get your phone call, and you can't leave because of the storm. So we have to do something to while away the time until your clothes are dry and all these other problems take care of themselves." Agnes had let her words distract him while she artfully allowed her hands to roam beneath the robe, until while she was sure that there was an erection.
To stave off an answer she stretched on tip toes and offered her lips. At first he was not going to accept the challenge. Agnes forwent the area of her first pleasure and pulled the stiff neck downward. Agnes made up for the clumsiness by skillfully bringing her tongue into play. The tips of her fingers kneaded the nape of his neck as she moved her body into the embrace.
Jerry could feel the amorous pressure of the large this against his chest, and the trembling pelvis as it caused his own flesh to be rubbed against his thigh.
Without comment Agnes took his hand and led him into the living room.
When Agnes turned from drawing the drapes across the Florida room doors, the robe was at the feet of the young adonis.
As she strode toward him she had no difficulty in extracting herself from the blouse and skirt. Their practically hairless bodies meshed, but her lips did not stay on his except for a brief second. Leaving a faint tracing of lipstick, they dipped down to the quarter sized brown saucer of his nipple. With lips firmly cupped she pulled mightly at the nipple as the tiny tongue tip explored the rim of the circle.
Forepleasure had always been denied Jerry and his mind now screamed from the thrilling sensation. No other human had ever touched him in such an intimate manner.
Without formal experience he could but stand and succumb to her ;tdvances. His mannerisms foretold his naivity and engendered in Agnes a tantilizing urgency to do all things that might at first shock, but in the end educate.
Agnes disregarded the mat of the, carpet as it bit into her knee caps. She was more interested in the rigid cock that brushed against her lightly powdered cheek. Passionately she nestled her lips into the warm fur of his pubic hair, her chin thus pressing the cock down between the cleavage of her breasts. With carnal pleasure she pushed the outer rims of the mounds inward until the rigid staff was encompassed-With alternating motions she continued to rub the flesh over his prick to ensure that the sensation was at its zenith.
Hearing verbal acquiescence, in the form of muffled groans, her tongue came into play and touched fleetingly along the steel-like tube of his penis.
Jerry gazed in wonder as the tender lips and velvet tongue lubricated the extremity of his being. Instinctively he knew what must follow, but fascination overcame any sense of guilt. To watch his cock passing beyond the lips and into the warm orifice of her mouth was as intoxicating as the sensation it was arousing on his nerve ends.
As Agnes rocked back on her haunches, the knight bachelor followed, knowing by her intimate touches what was expected. She did not allow any major portion of his cock to enter until the back of her head was resting on the top of her spine and then carefully she pulled greater and greater legths down into her throat.
She knew full well the measure of his arousement when the harsh fingers began an exploration of their own to seek a toy with which to play. The first jab was brutal and clownishly aimed. She slapped the hand away and pushed his body from her. She had been the generatrix up to this point and now cast him to the carpet so that he could begin to play the masculine role.
Jerry could not fall back on prodigious memory and thus native wisdom had to lead him in the role of the aggressor.
Agnes was mountable, but it had never been her strong forte. As the elongated spear fought for entrance to her cunt she had to tutor it in the approach. Without a care for modesty she voiced what was expected of Jerry and his girth. He took the words to heart and pounded forward with fevered zeal. He was dissapointed that once again it did not have the heady tension that the other action had fermented. He fought harder to recapture that special tingle, but only a slow charge was manifested. The temperature was rising and the trinitrotuluene explosion was at hand. Without any more action from Agnes than that produced by a dead cod, the finale for Jerry was a dismal failure. And not really a finale. For as his tensions had overcome the false start and were climbing to an exhilerating height, the phone began to peal.
Agnes shoved him from his perch and rawly sprang to the couch to extract the end table hidden instrument.
"Reed residence." The formal matron voice had returned. "Yes, he is. One moment." She extended the receiver to Jerry. A deep blush of embarrassment crep up his neck. He hastily grabbed for the robe to cover himself before answering the phone. Agnes could not hold back the giggle as she mirrored in her mind the expression that would overcome the Admiral's face if he could see within the room.
"Lieutenant Farris here ... Yes, Admiral ... Yes, sir ... I see, sir, but I was scheduled to return on a late flight tonight. Oh, yes, I understand."
The spell was broken. As Jerry continued to talk in monosyllables to his superior Agnes replaced her clothing and returned to the utility room. His clothing was dry and she placed the almost wrinkle-free uniform upon a hanger. She was folding the smaller garments when Jerry came in, nervously smoking a cigaret. "That was my call."
"What a brillant deduction, lieutenant. I bet you were a marvelous midshipman!"
"Are you angry over what happened?" He looked down at the carefully clipped nails on his feet.
"Hell no! I started it, and you just havent been over the course enough times to know what was required to finish it. No one's to blame, so let's drop that subject. What jolly little tid-bits dad the gold braid have to pass on?"
That unquenchable fear gnawed at the base of her stomach as she awaited the answer.
"When was the last time you saw your husband, Agnes?" Jerry blushed again. He felt strange being the interrogator so quickly after having screwed her. "Henderson, that is"
"In Manilla, during 1941." She fought to bring back the points that Ollie and Torgison had hammered into her head.
"I'm sorry, Agnes, that I must be the one to bring back these memories. But I hope you realize that I am only doing what the government tells me to do, and it's important for them to establish the last movements of Sergeant Henderson."
With biting sarcasm she turned on Jerry. "My first husband is dead, lieutenant." The words were as cold as her look.
"Agnes, Sergeant Henderson was reported missing, the exact date we can't be sure of because all records from the Philippines are now destroyed or in a turmoil. That's why were asking your help."
"The dead are dead," she flared out. "Can't you leave it that way?"
Calmly Jerry asked, "What nationality was Henderson?"
"American, stupid." She tried to let the clothes folding hide her inner storm. "I mean racial descent."
"Hell! How am I supposed to remember? It was one of those northern countries. Sweden, Norway? You name it, and you got it!"
"No Japanese blood?"
"No!" Did I answer too quickly, she asked herself. Steady no. Hold on! Sure, Torgison was half-Japanese and surely he would have taken the papers off of Dick's body after ... Oh no! I'm not even to know about that. Clam up, girl. Dick's dead and you know it.
"Does the name Appleman ring a bell with you?"
"No!" And it doesn't either, she thought. "These all seem rather strange questions and have no bearing on my first husband."
"Strange things happen in war time. People exchange identities for numerous reasons. The Dick Henderson that the Japanese records list as having died during the Bataan Death March was half-Japanese. The Appleman boy, of whom I spoke, was an orphan, and has resided in a military mental hospital since the end of the war. We know a great deal more about mental illness today than we did twenty or twenty-five years ago."
"I'm deeply interested in the advancement of medical science, Lieutenant Farris, but not at this precise moment." She picked up the pile of clothes and headed for the living room. Jerry took hold of the hangered uniform.
"This case should intrigue you, however," he said, following her.
"So what is so intriguing about a poor little orphan lad who has lost his marbles?" She almost tore the drapes from the traverse roads as she yanked at the cord. The storm was now a slight drizzle.
"He's been calling your name for the past three weeks."
"Ca'.iing ... my name?" She didn't dare look at him.
"He claims to be your husband. I think I'll change back into my uniform. That bedroom OK?"
She could feel her head shaking an affirmative reply, but it was as if she were a puppet and some mightier hand was pulling the control strings. Ah eternity passed as she watched him go across the living room and into the master bedroom.
The room tried to roll in on her, but she fought back the black assault. She couldn't afford weakness at this time.
"Will you try and call me a cab?" Jerry called from the bedroom.
"Naturally." She walked toward the phone and then a thought passed her mind. "Don't you want to stay for dinner?" She prayed he would refuse, but she needed to remain the poised, perfect hostess.
"It would be too much trouble for you. Besides, I've got to find a hotel. I'm forced to stay overnight."
She began to dial so that she wouldn't push the hostess bit too far and be compelled to offer him a room for the night. She needed time to think. Time to get her story in proper perspective. Time to prepare a counter-attack against this imposter. God, she thought, and the very thinking sent fear to her heart, what if there had been a mistake? What if this were really Dick?
CHAPTER FOUR
Lieutenant Gerald Farris, USN, had been purposely selected for this mission. He was a cold, calculating investigator who shrouded his main designs in a cloak of diplomacy. His batting average for breaking cases was extremely high. His handsome charm soothed the wives into giving extra bits of information. His boyish manner put mothers at ease in his off-handed manner of questioning. He was manly enough to fit in with the robust talk of exservicemen and not have then resent his rank or the reason for his visit.
The insurance racket was his main area of concern. The wife who seemed to have steady stream of servicemen husbands, and not all of them meeting their ends during war time. The mother who sends a monthly check to a son in Mexico, was listed as missing in action and then presumed dead, during the Korean conflict. The ex-serviceman who served two hitches in the same service, and is collecting insurance on himself for the first enlistment under a different name. Jerry knew every fraud that had ever been attempted, and how the person would act as soon as they felt they were under his microscopic investigation.
He had no sooner entered his room at the McAllister Hotel, tipped the bellboy, and put on the night latch, than his phone rang. He had not, as yet, informed his superiors of his where abouts, but Agnes had heard him call the hotel for a reservation. He also knew what she would ask. "What does this Appleman look like?" He let the phone ring on as he took the clothes from the flight bag. Into the attache case went a change of shirt, shorts, undershirt, socks and his toilet gear. The phone was still ringing as he closed the door behind him and headed to the elevator.
In the lobby he entered a phone booth and called Washington. As he was informing the bureau as to where he would be, he heard his name being paged over the loud speaker. To stall for time, after his call, he looked in the yellow pages for what he was seeking. The address started him. Less than a block and a half away. He skirted out the side door and walked to the corner. He could see the YMCA on the next corner, across from the Greyhound station. Two doors down the sign of an Italian Cafe seemed more important. He treated himself to a large meal and small bottle of Chianti wine. He was contented as he walked up to the Y desk and asked for a room. His flight was delayed, he explained, and he couldn't get his bag from the airport. The story and his rank and uniform helped drop the bar of 'no luggage-no room."
The room was small and typical of others he had used on similar cases. If the suspect knew where he was staying there were always phone calls to seek further information or to subtly try to buy him off. If the suspect could not find him, where they knew he was to be, then they were the ones who would spend a fretful night of soul searching. He always picked the Y, for who would ever think of calling there to see if Lt. Jerry Farros was registered? It normally wasn't the haunt of an officer.
Jerry stripped to his shorts and sat down at the odd sized desk to once again review the Henderson file.
When the file had first come across his desk he had almost assigned it to a subordinate. It was too cut and dried.
A mental patient claims to be another man. It happened all the time. It might have been treated in a normal manner if a bell had not rung in his memory banks. A Chief Petty Officer had died. His wife sued for the insurance money when she found out that it had never been changed from the first wife's name. The first wife had secured a Mexican divorce upon the Chiefs return from the South Pacific. The second marriage had spanned twenty years, and therefore the Board of Inquire felt it had been an oversight on the part of the serviceman and granted the insurance money to his legal wife. The second wife was ready to battle the full way, as she now had six children by the man to support. A search for the first wife was never conducted. Her name: Agnes Henderson Chaffe.
Before that afternnon was out Jerry Farris knew that he alone would be handling the case. From December 1941 to June of 1945 Agnes Kastil-liano, Agnes Henderson, Agnes Kasterson or Agnes H, with the proper married name, appeared as the beneficiary on no less than eight insurance documents. She had been paid claims on the lives of Dick Henderson, Oliver Chambers Laurence Purdaco, M. Kenneth Draper and Harley Turpinson. The next of kin had been changed to a subsequent wife on the forms of a Joe Parkinson and Samuel Jennings. Jerry could only assume that these marriages had also ended in a Mexican divorce for Agnes. If the Chief had not goofed, the Appleman case would have been simple. Now he had to lay a clever trap.
Loud noises and laughter from across the hall distracted his train of thought. Jerry peeked out his door, but the opposite entrance was closed. The transome was open full tilt and thus allowing the noise to escape. It was hard to distinguish the voices, other than that they were all male. What else had he expected in a IT?
He reclosed his door and was trying to concentrate when a few of the crude remarks could be barely made out. He was, to a point, intrigued. He had stayed in enough of these places to guess a bit about the activities that took place, but he had always turned a deaf ear. He had never before spent an afternoon like this one, either. He took a chair to the door and lowered his own transome, carefully extinguishing the lights in his room.
The opposite room layout was quite different from his and afforded him an excellent view. Against the far wall was placed the bed, and upon it sat a toothy blond sailor in his early twenties, and a Marine of equal age, but extremely dark. Jerry could not tell if he had a heavy sun tan or was of a Latin extraction. They each were nursing a can of beer.
Jerry was surprised when his attention was drawn to the third occupant, casually sprawled in the single chair was a tall Army Lieutenant, whose long slender fingers were wrapped around a glass which he would continually shake to make the ice sing against the rim. He rested his head against the wall and his crossed legs stretched in front of him. There was no mistaking his cock for it cascaded down the side of one leg.
The sailor nervously would take little side glances at the area where the pant legs met and slowly follow the swelling downward. The Marine rattled on and on and the major topic was his sexual conquests. At this stage of the game, all on a heterosexual plane, Jerry could not ascertain why the Lt. was showing himself so openly.
"Hey! My been is dry!" said the sailor.
"Mine's getting that way," the Marine chimed in.
"You two have a problem," said the third. "I've got my ice, bottle and a tap of water to keep me happy."
"Flip you to see who goes for a six pack." The Marine reached for a coin.
"Shit no!" Blared the sailor. "It's damn well your turn. I've almost got caught the last two time trying to smuggle the stuff in for you."
"Well, OK. But don't let the party get too hot before I get back." He cast a sadistic look between the Lieutenant's legs and a knowing look at the sailor.
"Fuck off, dad. We're going to have a couple more drinks and then go find some pussy. Junior needs a work out." He ran his hand the entire length of his half-hard cock and took a long pull at the liquid in the glass.
When the Marine had departed, the officer offered the sailor a drink of the scotch.
"No. I better not mix my drinks." He stood up and stretched. "Damn, we been sitting for quite a spell." The cut of the bell-bottom trousers showed that his excitement was at a fever peak. The officer rose and stretched also.
"Yah! Been all fouled up. Say, does that buddy of yours always talk so much, and always about sex?"
"Most of the time."
"His tales can sure raise a good one."
The sailor stooped to touch his toes. The already tight cloth molded around the smooth round humps of his rear. The Lieutenant took a step forward, so that when the sailor rose their bodies barely touched. The young man stepped back and let his hips show the pleasure they experienced from the object that was touching them.
The officer moved closer and wrapped his arm around the slender waist so that his hand could grasp the hard prick.
"You dig this route?"
"If you don't jab too quickly, sir!"
"It might make things a bit easier if you called me Paul, Jerry." The caves-dropping Jerry was startled to hear his own name Being applied to the sailor.
"As you wish, Paul."
"It's your ball game, baby."
"What about Dino?" he asked as he started to unbutton the thirteen black circles.
"Dingy Dino is a gobbler queen. He nobbed me three times in the shower last night, but wouldn't brown in return, and I don't go down; see. You and I seem to crave the same thing, so you just leave Dino to me. I'll just tell him to butt out for awhile." His pants had now been slipped to his knees.
Jerry could feel his own senses rising and a look down at his shorts showed them all pressed to one side. He felt like a kid snooping at a key hole. He had never seen the act peformed that he felt would now take place and a strange desire kept him guled to the precarious perch.
As his hand kneaded at his own crotch he tried to justify in his mind that a great deal of his excitement was due to his not reaching a full climax with Agnes and not from the erotic foreplay across the hall.
"Don't take you clothes off, Paul. I like it when we keep some of our clothes on; it seems more dangerous that way."
Paul positioned himself and gently probed his cock in Jerry's anus. "Is that how you had it the first time?"
"Yah! Easy, damn it! That's better."
"You're sure tight."
"That's just because you're so damn big."
"The biggest you've ever taken?"
"Not quite. Hey, that's good, work it in that way a little more."
"Touch your toes again and then come up slow. Steady ... steady ... there, how's that?"
"It's going to come out my mouth any minute."
"Want to lie down?"
"Not till we get rid of Dino. Man, but you're big. Almost as big as my brother."
"Was he your first?"
"Yah! He plowed it too me in the barn when my older sister wouldn't let him stick her."
Jerry shoved his hand deep into his own shorts and began an action that" he had denied himself throughout his entire life. Even the touch of his own hand was exhilerating. He hated himself for the thought, but he resented the Army Lieutenant and wished to be in his place.
He quickly pulled his hand away when he heard someone coming down the hall. He could just barely see the top of the Marine cap. The first few raps on the door were unheeded.
"Hey, let me in. I got the beer." The voice was a harsh whisper.
"Not so damn loud, Dino."
"Well, let me in and I won't have to shout."
"Look, buddy, we got a little something going here. Why don't you flake off for a while down in the head?"
"Shit! I knew you'd try to make out with that stud the minute I was gone for a minute. Shit!"
"You're repeating yourself, Dino."
"OK! OK! So I'll go off in a corner and play with myself for awhile."
Jerry could hear the feet departing and the hydraulic hiss of the men's door opening and closing. The light was put out across the hall and he could distinguish no further erotic sights. An occasional squeak of the bed told of the action that was transpiring. He climbed down from his perch and lit a cigaret.
Damn, he thought, I'd love to get in on that kind of action just once in my life to see if it's all that it's cracked up to be. What had the other Jerry called Dino? He tried to recall and then it hit him. 'Gobbler'. It took a second for the full mental picture to focus on his brain that was still a bit clouded by the gin and wine. He remembered how Agnes had looked kneeling between his legs, and he tried to superimpose the face of Dino in her place. His recollection was strong of the excruciating electric charges that went through his body as she opened her mouth and his cock began to enter. There was a second of revulsion as he saw and almost felt Dino in the same pose. The agony of built-up tension erased any repulsive quality. He knew that he must have release, if nothing more than by his own hand.
He wasn't sure how to approach his quarry. He had sensed in his other travels the by-plays that was continuously going on in the Johns and hallways. Rapidly he slipped into his trousers and shoes and headed shirtless to the head. Just before opening the door, he rearranged himself. He did not want to appear too obvious.
CHAPTER FIVE
While Lieutenant J. G. Gerald Farris lay unconfortable in his Y bed, Agnes Henderson Reed was a mass of shivers in the center of the queen sized bed that took up an entire wall of her mediterranean decor bedroom.
She had never felt fright like this before. Even during the worst of the gangland warfare, during her bootlegging accomplice days, she had kept her cool.
No! NO' NO! She kept telling herself. It just can't be Dick He can't be alive. Even if he is by some fluke, she thought, it can all be worked out. Hadn't it been some twenty seven years since she had been notified that he was presumed dead, and even a missing husband is legally dead after seven years, she tried to reassure herself.
Oh Lord! The thought struck her. What if they know about the others. She tried to piece the dates together in her mind. She had obtained a Mexican divorce from Dick before she went to Manila. But nobody, not even Richard, knew of this, except Ollie Chambers. She had married Ollie in Manila. The telegram telling of his death had even proceeded her back to the states.
Agnes had not remarried again until late in 1942 and her funds were runnings low. Her victim was Chief Petty Officer Clyde Chaffe. Three months later he shipped out for the South Pacific. Agnes' mother was ill and she returned to Chicago and cared for her until the spring of 1943, when she died.
Excitement for her was on the west coast and the Chief was due back in port. Agnes hitch hiked to the coast. Outside of Phoenix she had been stranded in Wickenberg for three days. Then her luck changed. In a battered 1939 Chevy she was picked up by five sailors going back to Diego from leave. Larry Purdaco, Kenny Draper and Harley Turpin-son were from Des Moines and were serving aboard the same ship as her husband. Joe Parkinson and Sam Jennings were additional sailor hitch hikers they had picked up on the way.
When the Chief was shipped out a month later, they had all become good friends. Chief Chaffe had been assigned to a new ship. This left all five behind to be 'mothered' by Agnes. In a dramatic move she told them all one night that she had divorced the Chief. By the sheerest coincidense it also happened to be the night that three of the lads announced that they had received their shipping orders and would be gone within ten days.
The Navy proved to be most helpful in the logic matters of Agnes Henderson Chaffe. The departures were staggered to such a degree that she was able to marry Larry in Mexico, have a day honeymoon and wave goodbye to his ship before she had to depart for Yuma, and another marriage and honeymoon with Kenny. His ship was delayed a day and almost snafued the third romance. She feigned illness and then daringly flew to Reno, Nevada with Harley before Kenny's ship had even cast off.
During this five day spree she had used her influence with a Lieutenant on the base, and a promise of a few nights alone, to keep Joe and Sam aboard the station.
That weekend was consumed with repaying her debt to the compromising officer and then her time was free for the remainder of her play mates, who still did not know of her marriages, nor that plans were already laid for them. How did the lieutenant escape? Simple! Agnes, in those day did not go for officers. It took too long to snare them and the percentage on their death rate wasn't as high as with the enlisted men.
Joe was the next to ship out and almost spoiled the broth when he wanted Sam as his best man. Little Agnes always got her way and the marriage was kept a secret, except for the insurance papers.
Sam proved to be a big problem. He loved to play house, but not foot the bills and no amount of strings that she could pull would make him slip a ring on her finger. She had almost given up on him when he tearfully told her that he was being sent overseas and that he loved her madly and wanted her to wait for him He was so strong in his love that he had even had his insurance changed so that if anything happened to him she would at least be taken care of by him.
Agnes could have kicked herself for not thinking of this con game herself. She could have saved a lot of time and trouble in getting married so many tunes. But three months later she knew she had taken the proper course. On the same day she was informed that Larry and Ken had been killed in action. Two down, four to go. In the mail that day, however, she had a setback. Sam had met a girl in Hawaii and had married her, so he was sorry to inform Agnes that he had changed his insurance beneficiary again.
Poor Agnes. Made ten thousand and lost five thousand, all in one day. Three down, three to go.
She would not get another telegram until several months later when she would be informed that Harley had been killed. She would not be as lucky with the Chief of Joe Parkinson. They each returned unscathed from the war. Once again luck would hold for Agnes. Joe was the first to return and found her to be greatly changed. This time it was the man who sought and won the divorce. Agnes was now free except for her Chief Petty Officer. The money from the last three dead husbands she had guarded carefully and had not squandered. She did not want Chaffe getting his hands on hoard, so three days after his return she was in Mexico City and filling for yet another divorce.
Seven marriages in such a short span of years probably was some sort of record, but one that she would never tell the newspaper.
Agnes had though that to think back over these times would bring sleep, but it only brought more discomfort and restlessness.
The good times, she thought, that's what I'll think about. Good memories always helped her to drop off to sleep, and she was sure that the Navy couldn't know about her many husbands.
Funny about them, she mused, I really liked all of them. Her mental picture began to form and she sorted out the exact time that she wished to recall.
* * *
She had been extremely lucky with the first portion of her journey. A salesman had carried her all across the corn belt of Illinois, Iowa and down into Nebraska. A young married couple offered her ride through to Phoenix, Arizona.
A storm was approaching and with each step the little over night case became heavier and heavier. No one would stop and the entire length of Grand Avenue she was forced to walk. In the little sleepy suburb of Glendale she had counted the remaining change in her purse and determine that a portion of it had to be spent on a bit of food. Also the road side cafe would give an excuse to seek shelter from the oncoming swirls of sand in the air.
"What'll you have, dearie?" The waitress mopped at the counter with a rag that smelled of it's own age. Agnes recoiled from the mixture of greasy air and putrid odor that emanated from the uniform and hair of the untidy girl.
"Coffee. Black and an order...," Agnes let her eyes roam down the food spotted menu, mentally counting change to see what she could really afford. "Oh, I don't know. Give me a hamburger."
"Deluxe?"
"No, plain." There was a ten cent difference.
"Fry one nude, Fred," she called in at the window while filling a mug at the steaming urn. "I didn't hear you car," she stated as trying to peer out of the fly spotted and dirt encrusted window.
"I didn't drive." Agnes took a sip of the coffee and shuddered from the heavy chicory taste. She heaped spoonfuls of sugar into the black liquid.
"Easy, honey," she whispered, "don't let Fred catch you taking so much. That stuff is still rationed, you know. We used to give these little paper packets of them, but Fred says they're too expensive."
"Sorry." Really Agnes didn't care a damn, she also knew that the sugar would give her some extra energy.
"Say, it just dawned on me. You're not trying to hitch hike, are you?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Honey, that's a rough game in this state and especially here in Glendale. Those lousy cops will have you pulled in on a vag charge in nothing fat."
"But that's stupid. I've come all the way from Chicago without any trouble and I've got to get to Diego."
"Got a man there, hugh?"
"My husband."
"Why didn't the bastard send you bus fare?"
"He doesn't know I'm coming. His ship doesn't get in for three more days and I wanted to be there to surprise him. You don't think they would arrest me, do you?"
"How old are you kid?"
"Twenty." Agnes lied for she was twenty-seven at the time, but could pass for anywhere between fifteen and twenty.
"Better say you're twenty-one kid, then at least you're legal."
"Your sawdust in ready, Gertty-girl," called the cook.
She brougth the grease-coated bun and slapped it down in front of Agnes. "That Fred," she laughed, "he's quite the kidder." But the sandwich did taste just like friend sawdust. Agnes knew that it was probably 80% corn flakes, 10% fat and 10% ground meat, and probably horse meat at that.
"Want more coffee, kid? Don't worry, I won't charge you for the extra cup and use as much sugar as you want, but don't let Fred see you. I'm supposed to be the night manager, but Fred tells the boss everything that happens in this dump."
"Thanks." Agnes flashed a smile of gratitude that was surprisingly genuine.
"And don't you worry about the fuzz. If they stroll in I'll tell them you're a friend of mine. By the way my name is Gertrude, but everybody around here calls me Gert."
Agnes introduced herself.
"How long you been on the road, Agnes?"
"There days and three lousy nights of sleeping in cars. I'll sure be glad to see a bed when I get to the coast."
"You know, kid, we get a lot of these trucker guys that stop hre. I know all of them by name. Now they're not supposed to take riders, see, but every once in awhile a nice person will come along and I can swing a deal and get them a lift on into Wickenburg or over to the coast. We close here in about forty-five minutes, but we should get a few more trucks in that time."
"I sure would appreciate that, Gert."
"Now you got that ball of grease in your stomach what you needs is a good shower and change of clothes. They suptaly me With the little cottage out back. It sure as hell isn't much, but it's home. Why don't you just pop around in back and take yourself a good hot shower? If I snag you a ride I'll come out and holler for you and keep the guy here till you're ready."
Agnes shuddered at the thought. If the cottage was as ill kept as the girl she knew the condition it would be in. But after three days of not bathing she would jump at the chance to clean up even if she had to fight off the smile to get fresh water over her body.
Gert took her out and around the cafe and pointed to the lath sided cubicle. The key was over the door frame, she was informed.
Agnes steeled her stomach when she pushed open the door and was surprised to have her nostrils greeted with the scent of roses. The switch was to her right and brought illumination from the naked bulb in the ceilling. The room was immaculate in every respect. The double bed was neatly made and covered with a chenile spread. In front of the fading couch was a small coffe table upon which rested a bowl packed full of climbing vine roses.
The bathroom was tiny, but smelled of powder and womanly fragances.
The water was hot and came out of the shower head in a luxurious stream. Agnes found a bottle of shampoo and liberally helped herself. Three times she lathered up and then let the jet streams wash away the grim and travel dirt. Time became a meaningless jumble as the steam helped to ease the weary muscles. She had not realized how tired and sore she really was.
"Hey, you're going to get water logged." The voice seemed to reach Agnes from far off. She quickly returned to her senses and cut off the flow of water.
"You got me a ride?"
"I'll tell you about it when you come out." She didn't want to tell her that she had not even mentioned it to the two drivers who had come in before she had closed up.
Agnes hurriedly dried herself off and with a towel wrapped around her still damp hair in a turban style and one of Gert's larger towels fashioned into a' sarong she came out of the steamy room. Gert had shed the food spattered uniform and, standing in a pink slip, was pouring herself a drink. The dank blond hair had been allowed to to fall from it's upsweep.
"Hope you left me a couple of drops of hot water. That shower is my one luxury."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I bet I used it all."
"I'm only kidding. We get our water from the cafe and it's a five hundred gallon tank because we got pay showers in the men's room for the truckers." She thought a moment and then asked.
"Do you want a drink?"
"I'd dearly love one. How'd you do on the ride situation?"
"Not so hot tonight. But don't worry, I got it all figured out. The boss is off tomorrow and I got to open this joint up at 4 a.m. Tony Bonito toots through here each morning with a truck load of vegetables for Wickenburg. His old man doesn't like him to take riders, but I can talk him into it. Tony also knows all the big truckers that stop in Wickenburg, rather than here, so he'll be able to get you set up on over to the coast. You can bunk out here with me tonight, what's left of it, if you don't mind."
"Mind? Gert, you're a God send."
"We won't get more than three or four hours of sleep."
"That has been my daily average, of late, but sitting up. It will be heaven just to stretch out for awhile."
Gert lit the gas wall heater. "Sit over here and dry your hair out and drink your drink, while I jump into the shower."
Agnes did as she was told and her hair was almost dry when Gert returned. With her hair washed and the harsh makenup scrubbed off her face she was a softened woman and Agnes was amazed at the transformation from the grubby harsh waitress to this rather attractive woman.
Gert made her sit back in the chair while she took comb and wave set and worked Agnes hair into a mass of pin curls. She informed Agnes that she had once worked in a combined beauty salon and health studio. Her forte had not been the hair dressing, but she really could belt off some of the pounds on the rich old ladies that frequented the joint. The war had closed it and she had taken this job, thinking it would be a short war. Her own husband, who was a louse in her words, was slogging along somewhere with the Army in North Africa. She hadn't heard from him in months and really didn't give a damn.
"Ouch!" screamed Agnes as she turned her head preparing to rise. "What's the matter?"
"I got a crink in my neck when I started to rise. Every muscle in my body feels like Boy Scouts have been practicing knot tieing with them."
"Here, let me help." Gert sat back down and began to knead the tense chords at the nape of the neck.
"Boy, that sure feels good."
"Go lie on the bed and I'll get some of those kinks worked out." Agnes did as she was told and placed herself belly down on the cool clean white sheets. Gert removed the towel from her back and let her strong fingers ply their art. With each probing assault the fibers relaxed a bit at a time. Agnes could feel the luxuriant glow they produced spread across her back and down into the thighs. She did not resist when Gert turned her over onto her back.
The front of the arms were rubbed and pounted until they were as limp as dish-rags. Around the breasts Gert worked, only on occassion letting a part of her arm or hand brush part of the mounds. She gave special attention to the stomach and then when her hands kneaded at the upper portion of the thighs her elbow or forearm would accidently press down the forest of hair until reaching flesh.
The first time that it happened Agnes gave it no mind, but when the touch became more regular it suddenly registered on her mind that she was in the clutches of a lesbian.
Agnes had never had to go this route for she had more than enough men standing in line waiting for her to drop her drawers. She had often wondered what satisfaction one woman could give another, but hadn't been that curious to find out for herself. But, she thought, these last several weeks had been hell. Her brother-in-law had tried, but they could never find the time to be alone. Then her mother passing away-and the salesman had been too fat and gross. She would have loved a roll in the hay with the male member of the married couple, the wife wouldn't move more than an inch away from him.
"Gee, that feels good," she finally said, "If my husband walked in right now I sure would be ready for him."
"Been a long time, huh?"
"Too dam long since I felt anything between my legs."
"You sound like you go for it in a big way." Gert began to work her hands diliberately over the fleshy globes.
"Nothing I like better."
"Then you've probably all kinds of subsitutes?"
"No! What kind of substitutes?"
"Oh, there are all kinds. I was thinking of a dildo."
"What in the world is that?"
"Just a minute, I'll show you." Gert went into the bathroom. When she came back out Agnes let out a laugh, "It looks like the real thing". Gert had strapped around her waist and in under her crotch a harness affair that held firmly to her body a rubber device that was fashioned to the exact porportions of a prick.
"Not only does it look like a real one, I can make it work just like the actual thing. Do you want to try?" Gert narrowed her eyes and looked hungrily where Agnes legs met.
From what Angnes had heard, this was not the only manner in which a lessy liked to play. Agnes was curious to see how far Gert would go with her.
"Gee, I don't know. I've never done anything like that before. I don't think I'm really that hot yet"
"But you would try if you were really hot?" Gert was sitting next to her on the bed again and letting her hands gently rub over the pink flesh.
"It would be different, and I do like to try different things."
"Really?" A lustful fire came into Gert's eyes. "Has a man ever told you that you looked good enough to eat and then done so."
Agnes let out a little girl giggle. "A guy wanted to once, but he chickened out when he got to my belly."
"Did you want him to go all the way?"
"Sure."
"Do you still want to have someone try some-timer' "Sure."
Gert did not wait for any additional invitation. She pushed her mouth directly onto the furry mound and let her tongue dart forward to find the awaiting cunt. She probed until she was sure that she was bringing fire into Agnes' bowels, then she rose and drove the rubber prick home. With well trained muscular control she was able to mimic any manly gyrations in a similar circumstance.
Agnes raised her legs and firmly wrapped them around the slender waist as her arms locked around the girls torse and pulled their breasts into a crushing encounter.
"How does that feel?" Gert asked breathlessly.
"Magnificent. But the other felt good also."
"Do you want to be finished that way?"
"If you would like to."
It wasn't a question of like, Gert loved to. She returned to the task and pot every bit of her mouth and tongue into play until Agnes was a moving mass of flesh. Not until Agnes was fully limp did she pull herself away and crawl next to her. Within a few minutes both were sound asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
It seemed to Agnes but seconds later when her mind was pulled back to reality by the jangle of the clock alarm. The next twenty minutes was a nightmare swirl of dressing, combing out her hair and sitting at the corner trying to bring wakefulness by sipping at the thick black coffee.
* * *
Tony Benito proved to be exactly as his name implied, dark black-eyed Italian. His three older brothers were in the service and at seventeen Tony could hardly wait until his next birthay so he could join up and get away from driving his father's truck. Tony loved to party and having to be at the warehouse at 2 a.m., loaded by 3 a.m. and into Wickenburg by 5 a.m. wasn't his idea of the best hours for a party boy. It only left him one night a week to really kick up his heels.
He had taken one look at Agnes when he entered and flipped. He couldn't believe his good luck when Gert asked him the favor of taking her into Wickenburg and making arrangements for a further ride. He only wished he would have time to really get too know her. Already he could begin to feel a stiffness in his levis as he thought of the things he would really love to do with her.
Tony was dissappointed that Agnes stretched down next to him and lapsed into sleep. He would heve enjoyed the company of talking to her, if nothing more.
Agnes was dreaming. She was on a couch and the handsomest of men was seated next to her. She reached out and touched him on the thigh. He smiled down at her and gave her an affirmative nod with his head. Her lips spread in a sardonic grin as she knew what he was offering. But she would not rush into the matter. With artful ease she let her fingers creep over the tight muscles and tantalized her victim with a sense of not knowing how far she would really go. She could see the effect that her fingers were having and she let them brush casually over his cock.
While Agnes slept Tony was becoming a nervous wreck. He had never been so aroused and knew not what to do with a sleeping woman who was trying her best to play with him. With one hand he worked his zipper downward to make it easier if she did probe farther.
In her dream there was no question of a zipper, it was already open. It did not take long for her to reach inside and pull forth the length that she was seeking. It was not great in length but well rounded. She laughed inside at the discomfort of her dream partner as she began to kiss him in that area. She wondered how much more shocked he would be if she continued. To find out, she parted her lips and let them slide over the head. The entire form stiffened. She went an inch farther and the prick jumped. When her nose was nestled against the soft hair on the stomach, her mouth was filled with him. For some reason he could not move his hips and his hands were suspended in mid air. She would have to do all of the work, so therefore bobbed and weaved. Her head hit something hard a couple of times and she had to shorten her diving probe. She wanted to stretch out, but her feet came in contact with an unmovable wall. Then it was over. This is a bad dream, she thought, and wished she could wake up. A black cloud floated over her.
"Hey lady, you'd better wake up. We'll be coming into Wickenburg in a minute." Agnes opened her eyes. She was pillowed on the youthful thingh. She looked up and into the grinning face. She had a lousy taste in her mouth and then noticed that his fly was still undone. My God! It wasn't a dream, she thought.
"Do you want me to fix you up with a driver going to the coast that may also like a little bit of fun?"
"What in the hell do you mean?"
"Come on, lady, you don't have to put on. I know you weren't asleep when you sucked me off. I just thought you might like the same on the return trip."
"Stop this damn truck and let me off."
"Come on. lady, don't get rattled. I didn't mind you doing it. As a matter-of-fact I kinda liked it. First time for me. You wouldn't like doing it again would you?" He pulled himself from his pants. "I'm pretty well ready again."
"What are you trying to pull?" All of a sudden he was repulsive to her. "I did not do what you are trying to suggest, and put that nasty looking thing away. If you try to force me to do anything I'll bite the damn thing off. Now stop this truck."
Tony pulled to the side of the road and Agnes climbed down. They were still a good three or four miles away from town and she hated herself for blowing her stack as soon as the red tail lights faded into the grey down.
Agnes sat down on her up-ended overnight bag and reached into her purse for a cigaret. Distain-fully she took the last one and crumpled the package. Her anger could be seen in the manner in which she pulled heavily at the white taper. With gas rationing there were few cars on the road, even during the height of the day. At the crack of dawn she had smoked the tobbaco down to where it was burning her fingers, and she had not seen a single car.
Disgustedly she rose and was preparing to walk on into town when she heard the dull whine of an engine in the distance. Back along the highway she could just make out the twin glow of headlights. She felt it best to win sympathy if she was caught walking and continued taking tiny steps along the rim of the black tar.
When she could sense that the car was within range and she would be caught in the high beam she let her walk take on a slight limp. The car traveled a hundred yards past her then braked to a halt. It was just preparing to back up when she came almost to the rear bumper. A youthful head jutted out of the back window.
"Going into town, lady?"
"Yah! But not this town." She was to the side of the car and could make out the silhouette of five occupants. "But if you can at least get me into town I would appreciate it."
"Climb aboard, matey." A shoeless lad attired in t-shirt and dungarees stepped from the back door so she could enter and sit in the middle. He took her case and put it in the trunk.
Agnes was very personable and within five minutes knew each of their names and that they were all in Navy and heading back to their ships after leave. Before the car had reached the city limits she had wormed her way into obtaining a ride all the way to the coast. Before the car had run the course of the town and out to it's other limits, Agnes had freely helped herself to the offered cigarets and a cold beer from the ice chest. It was indeed a startling breakfast, but at least took the glue taste out of her mouth.
Three of the travellers became rather quiet when finding out that their woman pick-up was the wife of the chief of their section aboard ship. It might have been a quirk of fate that they all were sitting in the front seat. Agnes, therefore, concentrated her womanly wiles on the male members to her left and right.
She was full of stories and mostly of an off-color nature. At first the laughs were reserved, but as she got more risque even the trio on the front seat began to respond. Agnes was no prude and she had to use this form to show her companions that they could relax and feel comfortable around her, even if her old man was their boss.
"You guys been driving straight through?"
"No, ma'm," said the driver, who was Larry Purdaco." We vapor locked just south of Superior and had to sit and wait until the sun went down to go on, and we got the worst of the desert to go through today."
"I thought we were almost to California," said Agnes, not an expert student of geography.
"Lady, they got a hell of a lot of desert too. Here, look." Kenny Draper passed back a map that had been folded many times the wrong way and was one uncontrolable clump of paper.
Joe Parkinson helped Agnes spread the sheet upon her lap and pointed out Phoenix.
"Say," she said, after a close study of the page in the dim morning light," didn't that last sign say something about Kingman being a hundred and some miles?"
"Yeah! I think it did," said the driver. "Why?"
"I'm no navigator," said Agnes, "but according to this map we seem to be heading northwest. Ain't Diego in the south of the state."
"Damn, Kenny ain't you been watching the road signs. We are supposed to be on U.S. 80."
"Why bark at me?" His voice had not lost all of it's youthful high pitch. " I was asleep when we went through Wickenburg, and you should have known damn well that we weren't to come that way."
"So we got a blind driver."
"Don't get sassy. Let me see that damn map." He pulled to the side of the road and switched on the over head light. This was the first opportunity that Agnes had had to fully see the five young men. None could have been over twenty two or three. Each sported a couple day's growth of beard and sleep-circled eyes. Seeing them in this condition, she could not call any of them overly attractive. Even when they woud be shaved and showered they were an average assortment of American males, none in the pretty class, and none in the homely class. They were just a Norman Rockwell colection.
"Good Lord, look at this. We're in the middle of the boondocks. We can drop on down to Aguila and go on over to Quartsite, then we'll have to cover eighty-five miles of desert without a town to get to Yuma and down to Diego. It's either that or go back into Phoenix to catch.. 80 or go all the way over into Indio and then, down."
"Man, we'd lose too much time that way, "Harley chimed in." And I don't think 'Betsey' is going to like that daytime desert kick."
"Yah, Larry," said, "that's all we need is for this old girl to conk out on us in between nowhere and nothingsville."
"Welp! It's a deelema. Shit!" He rested one elbow on the steering wheel and scratched his chin with the other. "Hey lady, you in any hurry, or would you like for us to drop you at one of these junction towns?"
"I'm in no hurry." Agnes hardly recognized her own voice for the tone of fear that crept in. She did not want to get marooned in a desert by-station.
"Then," said Larry, "the only suggestion I have is for us to push on to the junction of U. S. 95 before the sun gets too high. We can fill up with gas, water and beer there and then maybe push our luck by going a couple more hours on into the desert. Then I think we better stop and put up the tarp and sit out the afternoon hot spell and go on at night."
There was a male chorus of "OKs', 'Fair enough' and 'Sounds good'.
"How about you, lady?" Larry asked.
"It's fine by me, and I wish you would call me Agnes."
It was nine before they came into the sleepy little town of Quartsite. The station attendant was most meticulous in the collection of the proper a-mount of gas rationing stamps, but showed no concern for checking age ID's when they purchased a case of cold beer and twenty-five pounds of ice. The price of the ready made sandwiches were sky-high and Agnes talked them into stopping at the general store and buying the materials so she could fix them herself.
The hands on the old clock in the store were almost at ten when they departed. The dry hot air had turned the car into an oven. The boys stripped off their shirts and Agnes used the gas station ladies room to slip into a halter and shorts. The halter covered very little of the peaked breasts and caused each of the boys to turn away quickly when Agnes would catch them staring. She was not a-ware that they were oogling with equal relish the tight manner in which the shorts molded around the thighs and showed off the tapering vee that met in a slight curve at the cleavage.
The open windows did not help but only created a blast of hot desert air to be pushed in upon them as the car sped along at fifty, fifteen miles over the established wartime speed limit.
"Hot damn, this heat is wicked," sighed Kenny as he rested his head back on the seat. Sitting in the middle he got no benefit from the stir of air from the windows and got the full brunt of the heat drifting back from the over-worked engine.
"Why don't you guys take off your pants and be more comfortable suggested Agnes.
"We only got shorts on, lady, not swim suits." Larry had not as yet started to call her Agnes and still was, for some reason, antagonistic toward her.
"So how much difference is there between your shorts and swim trunks?" she laughed. "And besides I have seen men in shorts before, so don't suffer on my account."
'Yah! But have the guys you've seen in shorts known the Chief? I don't think he would take too kindly to the matter if he was to find out that his old lady drove across the desert with five sailors in their skivies."
"What Chaffe doesn't know doesn't hurt him. Now get comfortable." It was a command and they willingly followed the order.
"Hey, Agnes, where did you learn so many dirty stories?" asked Harley Turpinson from the front seat.
"Lord, sonny, I could tell you things that would make your boner get a boner."
That will be the day," Larry scoffed.
"You guys ever hear of Little Lucky Zero?" When they acknowledged that they had some information on the gangster, Agnes told of her days in Cicero and the manner in which most parties ended up. Agnes pulled no punches in extolling the variations in sexual behavior that were practiced by members of the mob. For a half hour she recalled scenes from her past with vivid descriptions. Joe and Sam sitting next to her tried in vain to hide the effect of the erotic disclosures.
"You boys seem to be getting a little upset." She reached out on each side of her and took hold, and through the cloth, of their cocks. A stony silence enveloped the car, except for the constant drone of the engine. "Did it get a little hotter up front," she finally asked.
Staring straight ahead and with a gulp, Larry said, "Maybe you'd better find out for yourself if your threat worked."
Agnes let go of the stiff prick in her hands and pulled her self up to the back seat. She slid her hand over Larry's shoulder and down over the soft fur upon his chest. She did not bother to travel up over the elastic band of the jockey shorts, but instead pushed in under and down until she could tell that he was primed to the full limit.
"You shouldn't play with the driver while he's driving," Kenny giggled. Agnes could see that although not large, he was almost popping from the shorts, and Harley was trying to hide with his hand a cock that was large enough that a portion was jutting over the elastic band.
"Do you like what you got hold of?" Larry asked.
"What do you think?" Agnes cooed in his ear and let her tongue trace along the edge.
"I think we've carried this game a little too damn far. Seeing us in shorts is one thing, but if you steam up our eyeballs anymore I don't want to be responsible for the consequences."
"Afraid of the Chief?" She took a bite at his ear lobe and squeezed harder with her hand.
"You're damn right I'm afraid of the old bastard. He's a son of a bitch to begin with. How in the hell do you think he will treat us if he finds out we've been screwing around with his wife? And you better take your hand out of there unless you want it to get all sticky."
"Who's going to tell him?" she asked without taking her hand away.
"More than likely one of the four of us that loses out on getting you."
"Who said anybody had to lose?" She released him and pushed her hand down into Kenny's shorts which prompted him to let out a gasp. She shoved her left arm backwards the hand palm up. Sam moved forward on the seat and rubbed himself a-gainst the palm. She closed her hand into a fist around him. Joe banged his head against the window bar and let out a rebel yell.
"Knock it off!" Larry screamed. "You mean you are really serious about taking all five of us on?"
"If you don't believe me, watch!" They had not seen a single car on the highway since they had turned off the main 60-70 route and therefore Agnes had no fear of being seen in what she was about to do. With lightening speed she turned and pulled down the front of Sam's shorts. Before they were even off, she had taken his cock fully into her throat and began to bob and weave.
"Man, oh man, oh man! Would you look at that gal go after the meat." Joe was yelling while at the same time trying to undo the knot at the back of the halter.
Larry took a couple of quick glances over his shoulder. Kenny and Harley had turned and were kneeling in the front seat so they could see fully the back seat action. Larry was miffed. He was egotistical enough to think that her first attentions to him had singled him out as her favorite and now that her attentions were being directed in this manner towards another he felt compelled to strike back.
"Shit! I should have known that there was a catch and all she would want to do was suck. Nobody has ever copped me and. nobody ever will."
"Don't knock it, man," Sam crooned. "I ain't ever had it this way before, either, but baby don't ever stop. This is cloud nine. Go, baby, go!"
"Hey, Agnes, try me on for size." Harley shoved his shorts down and stood on the front seat so that he extended over the back rest. Agnes turned and let her tongue play for a few seconds on the helmet like tip. Harley grabbed the back of her head and hauled it forward as his hips started to move in a quick motion.
Kenny, who was at eye level with the action was fascinated. "Hey, Harley. You look like you've had experience."
"Hell, yes, what do you think? Three of my buddies and I used to get it this way every time we wanted it from the guy on the fourth floor of the tenement."
"From a guy?" Larry asked with scorn.
"Get off your high horse, Larry. That's it, take it deep, baby, that's the way junior likes to go."
"Shit!" said Larry.
"What's the matter with you, Larry? You know as well as I do that every guy in our old neighborhood got his rocks this way, one time or another, and more than likely with a guy. And what's more every damn one of them have filled their mouth with a stiff stick or had the pole up the hole. Don't try to shit me, dad, cause you just better remember that I know your big brother pretty damn well."
Larry turned a deep scarlet and stared harder down the road.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!," chortled Kenny, "so prim and proper little Larry knows how to finger a skin flute."
"Don't get on your high horse, Kenny," Harley smiled down at him while he stroked his hands through Agnes' hair," or I might be tempted to tell Larry what you like while lying on your belly."
"Knock it off, Harley, I only let you do that once."
Larry let out a belly laugh and the muscles eased with the release of tension when he realized he was off the frying pan and Kenny was now the center of discussion.
"Well, I'll be damned," Agnes pulled away from Harley. "This takes the cake. First time I've ever had sex with a guy while he carries on a talkathon about other peoples morals."
They all broke into laughter. Ahead and to the right Larry saw the twin ruts of a side road and a short distance beyond a stand of tall cactus. He pulled in and under the towering plants. The tarp was strung from the car roof to the out reaching arm of a saquaro. Under the shade and on the removed front and back seats Agnes, starting with Joe, as he had not received any attention in the car and then Lary second, fucked them each in his turn, in the manner that most men claim gives, them their greatest satisfaction.
Following Larry, Sam climbed aboard only to demonstrate that not only had he received pleasure from Agnes earlier for the first time, but this was his first opportunity to ever climb in the saddle. Kenny and Harley knelt beside the rocking bodies and gave Sam an oral education on how he should be accomplishing the task. When finished, he was so weak from exhaustion that he could barely roll off onto the sand. Kenny, after having cheered Sam on and watching his entire encounter, was so aroused that he pushed himself eagerly into the slit, took two powerful strokes and it was over for him.
Harley proved to be as much a master at this form as the other. With slow, easy assurance he spread Agnes' legs wide and lowered himself to the starting gate. The stallion did not rear as he nestled it gently between the white columns. Carefully, he allowed it to adjust to the tightness; even after so much prior fucking, he knew his own girth and did not want to be rejected. Masterfully he slid his cock into the warm pussy until it was lost from sight. Only then did he lower his body onto her breasts and let his lips come in contact with hers. The others had taken her like school boys fearful of being caught. Harley thru subtle movements let Agnes know, that a real man was causing the friction against her clitoris. Agnes knew that this would not be a quicky and relaxed to enjoy it.
On the shadey side of the car, and lying on a blanket were her first two victims, Larry and Joe. Enough time had passed since their turn that the sounds coming from a few feet away had begun to re-arouse them.
"Larry," Joe whispered, "is it true what you said?"
"What?" Larry hissed, immediately on his guard.
"That you're never had a mouth on your dick? "Yah!"
"For me too. But I'd sure like to see what it feels like."
"Then why didn't you let her have a go at you?" He turned on his side to look at Joe ... They were lying head to toe.
"She didn't offer, only felt of me. I guess I didn't have enough to please her that way, like Harley and Sam."
"You look pretty damn well hung to me."
They lapsed into silence for some minutes and then Joe asked, "Don't get mad if I ask you, but was the other true?"
"That damn loud mouth Harley! Yah, it's true to a degree. My big brother and four of his friends pinned me down one night and made me take all of them that way."
"That's how it happened to me, but it was just my two brothers. They made me do it several times to them."
Larry noticed the way that Joe was looking between his legs and it sent a strange shived up his spine and made his cock jump. 'Did you ever want to try it with another guy after that?"
"Only one."
"Who was the guy?" Joe blushed and then quickly opened his mouth and feverishly dove onto Larry's ramrod, a couple of feet away. Rapidly his head darted up and down and just as quickly he pulled off and gasped. "Oh, Larry, I'm sorry. I've wanted to do that ever since we've been in boot camp. Don't hate me?"
"What are you talking about. That felt pretty damn good. Don't feel bad because you tried." He pulled the waist of the other to him and let shaft sink into his throat and then twisted his head in a circular motion as he pulled away. He smile down at Joe.
"Now that we've each had a preview let's get on with the main feature." Joe exuberantly refilled his mouth with what he had been coveting for eighteen months while he felt equal joy being taken from him at the other end of his body.
When they had fully satisfied each other they strolled around the car and were met by an extremely odd sight.
"Hey, come on you two and help us make this thing complete," Harley insisted. He was sitting on the hood of the car, his legs dangling, and his hand working to bring himself back up to full stance.
Kenny was standing in front of him and just about to re-enter the standing Agnes while Sam was already imbedded from the rear. Once Kenny was in place, he leaned to the side so Agnes could lean over and take Harley in the same fashion she had taken him in the car. Joe and Larry stepped to each side of her and it was not long before her artful hands, that knew just where to apply the proper pressure, had them ready for the third time within a couple of hours.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Agnes woke with a start. She looked at the luminous dial on the clock and less than two hours had passed since she had fallen into a trobled sleep. She tried to reconstruct in her mind what had caused her to wake in such a cold sweat. Ollie! That's what it had been, a dream about Ollie.
She should have realized that she couldn't think so much about the past without having a nightmare about good old lecerous Ollie. Why in the hell did she listen to him? It all might have worked out pretty damn good. Although, she really didn't have a thing to complain about in her old age. Her husband was considerate. Considerate enough to stay out of her life nine out of every twelve months. But that didn't help either. She wanted a man she could feel next to her in bed each night.
Now, Ollie, there was a real man. Agnes lit a cigaret and in the dark let her mind travel back in time again....
* * *
She had just taken the last ornaments off the Christmas tree. Dick had been gone for eight months and she had put up the tree on the slimmest hope that he might get home. It had been a cold December of 1940 and the wind literally tore through her small Diego apartment.
She hated the town and the people. She never went out and had no close friends. She was therefore surprise when the knock came at the door.
Expecting some form of salesman she was ready to do battle and opened the door in that manner. What she beheld was the enormous bulk of Private First Class Ollie Chambers. He took off the service cap and a mass of flaming red hair fell into his eyes. A ham hock hand nervously brushed the tress back and Agnes noted a few strands of grey. Timid light blue eyes peeked out from under hush-tree eyebrows of the same hue as the hair. His cheek bones were high and his complexion rough and manly. Ollie was the 6th Fleet boxing champ, which accounted for the extremely wide shoulders and tapered hips.
"You'all Agnes Henderson, ma'm?"
"Yes."
From behind his back he produced a flat box wrapped in brown butcher paper. "I'm Ollie Chambers, ma'm. I told your hubby that I was coming back on emergency leave, as my pappy died and he asked me to tote along your Christmas present and this here letter. I sure am sorry I'm so all fired late, ma'm, but you see my mamy took sickly after the funeral and I had to await around the hospital in Mobile before she kicked off and I could come back to the base. Whee! I rekon that's about the longest speech I've ever had to make. Save for the time I had to speak up for Jack Cruthers at his funeral because nobody else in the country had any use for him."
"Well, you sure are some talker, Ollie Chambers." Agnes put out a hand and it was enveloped in the hugh paw, "I'm glad to meet you. Come on in and let's see what the huddle-brained guy sent me."
"I don't want to be imposing now, ma'm."
"Imposing? You cart this great box half-way around the world and you think you're imposing? You just sit yourself right down and make yourself at home. How about a drink?"
"Gosh, I don't know. I sure am a mite thirsty. I walked over from the base. I guess it would be alright."
"Walked? What will you have? Bourbon? Scotch? Beer? Or Gin?"
"I'm kind partied out on that hard stuff. I sure would like a cold beer, though." Agnes opened the ice box and took out a brown bottle. He .noted how expertly she tilted the glass so as not to create foam. He thanked her and she placed ice cubes and gin in a glass for herself and added a dash of lemon soda water.
"Now then, Ollie Chambers, while I open this present you tell me why you walked all the way from the base."
"Gosh, it's kinda embarrassing, ma'm."
"If you don't start calling me Agnes I'm going to scream. And as you're a buddy of Dick's you have to tell me."
"It's simple. It cost a heap to go home and stay there as long as I did and we don't get our pay for another week, but I felt I had kept this letter and present from you long enough."
"That's carrying friendship too far. You should have waited till you had bus fare." Agnes took the letter and opened it. The message was cryptic. 'Merry Christmas darling, Dick'. But out of the envelope also came five fresh new twenty dollar bills.
"Well," she exclaimed looking at the money, "it woud appear my husband has struck it rich in the orient."
"Henderson's pretty smart about getting his hands on money. I just wish I was being transferred back over there to get ahold of a bit more of that loot."
"Ollie, Agnes asked, studying him closely, "did you know what was in this letter?"
"Sure! He had to tell me so I would't lose it or get caught bringing it back into the country."
"Then my husband got it illegally?"
"I wouldn't rightly say that, ma'm, I mean Agnes." He looked down at his hands.
"If you knew what was in here and were so low on each why didn't you open it and use one of the twenties?"
"I couldn't do that. It wasn't mine." He was so honest in those days, Agnes now reflected, or was it all a big game? Ollie started to come over quite regularly and was a perfect gentleman. Agnes was even surprise at her own restraint in keeping him out of the bedroom.
Almost regularly Richard would enclose one or two hundred dollars in his letters. Agnes finally determined to pin Ollie down on the matter. It was a sultry summer evening. Agnes was wearing the silk kimono that Dick had sent her and Ollie looked most uncomfortable in a polo shirt and pair of Bermuda shorts. They were sipping on tall frosted glasses of gin and tonic, on her back porch, and had been discussing the flames that were devouring Europe.
"Ollie. Where is Dick getting all the extra money to send me?"
He looked out over the harbor to avoid her look. "Many ways a guy can pick up a few extra bucks. Mostly by playing poker, I guess."
"Is that how Dick is grabbing off so much loot?"
"How in the hell should I know."
"Just the way in which you answer me tells me that you do know. Now tell me."
"Some things you just don't discuss with a lady."
"Oh?" Agnes raised an eyebrow and was now extremely curious. "Is it so immoral that you think I would be shocked?"
"Something like that."
"Are you afraid to tell on Dick or yourself."
"Hell, I don't want to get Dick in dutch with you. As far as myself, I'm not afraid to say that I've played the Chinks game a few times. But I'm a single guy and it really didn't matter. I guess it kinda bugs me that a married man plays the same game."
"Even when he send the money home to his wife?"
"Shit! Dick Henderson probably makes five times that amount in a week. I've seen him with three different cock suckers in one night." He caught himself quickly.
"So," Agnes draw led the word out slowly, "you' ve let part of the cat out of the bag Let's have the rest."
"Damn, you women sure can get information out of a guy. It's very simple. The government pays us damn little. Marines are pretty interesting to the Chinks. First because we are white and American and secondly because we are mostly big and brawny. They're built pretty damn small, so they just about bug their eyes out when they see what's between our legs, and if you know how to play the game you know how to wear yourself to show it off. The Chinks that are a little homosexual and have a lot of loot don't mind paying a hundred bucks a throw just to get one of us to lay back and let them work on us for awhile."
"So little Dickey has found a way to combine his two greatest loves, sex and money."
"Now, I knew I shouldn't have told you. Next thing you'll be popping off to him and then I've got my tit in a wringer."
"I'm not going to say anything. I'm just a little peeved, I guess. Here I'm supposed to sit and be good for him and not screw around and he's getting his rocks off all over the place, although he would probably say it was for commercial reasons."
Agnes kept on the same vein of conversation until she had Ollie convinced that she had been true to Dick even though her pants had gotten pretty damn hot during the past eight months or so. He reminded her that it had now been fourteen months. Which point was even more in her favor.
"I want it so bad sometimes I could scream, Ollie."
This was all Ollie had been waiting to hear. That night he slept in her bed and for most nights after that. He had a way of completly satisfying a woman and Agnes accepted everything that he had to give.
When the discussion of marriage first arose she couldn't remember. Tactfully she reminded him where the money was coming from that they had been living so high off the hog with. The subject did not come up again until Ollie learned that he was being transferred overseas to the Philippines. He was the one who suggested the Mexican divorce and marriage. Which almost made Agnes laugh, for she had already thought of this and not letting the government know that she had divorced Dick. She wasn't happy with the suggestion that Ollie made to do away with Dick and live on the insurance money. If nature took her victim she didn't feel guilty, but she would have no part of murder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Standing in her plush home, Agnes began to weep over the web that she had caugh herself in. If I could only turn back the clock, she though, I would do it all differently.
* * *
"I'm scared, Ollie!" Agnes made the statement without turning from the window. She had been in the Philippines for a week, although this was her scheduled day of arrival as far as Richard Henderson was concerned. She took a puff on the cigaret as she watched a Priest step onto the street from the College of San Juan de Letran.
The room was clammy from the heavy humidity. She pushed the latice work farther open, hoping to catch a breeze from the Pasig River, as it dog-legged in from Manila Bay.
A hundred church bells began to peal the noon hour and across the river she could see the office workers stream out of the round-ended post office building.
Reassuring arms encircled her waist. She leaned back against Ollie until her head was pillowed between the solid manly breasts.
"Steady, baby," he crooned as he rested his chin upon the top of her head. "It's all gonna be over in a few hours." She loved the rich, warm, drawl of his Alabama voice. He turned her and tilted her head to him. She fought the urge to giggle as the bushy red mustache tickled the tip of her nose. She pushed him gently away and could feel the muscles stiffen in his bisceps.
"Not now, please. I don't want to be all mussed up when he arrives."
"Little lamb, you just stop a frettin' and leave him to me."
"No, Ollie. Now we decided last night that it was best for me to see him first and for him not to know you're in town until I tell him about the divorce. That's the way it's going to be."
There was authority in her voice.
"And our marriage?" he asked.
"I don't think I'm going to tell him."
"Why in the hell not? You better let me handle this in my own way." He smacked his right fist into the palm of the left hand to demonstrate what he would consider the proper way of handling any matter. Around Agnes, or any other woman, Ollie could be as gentle as spring fawn, but when he was around men he lived up to his Marine name of being a real scrapper.
"You just leave him to me, and you get the hell out of here before he catches you." She was firm in her conviction and Ollie could anticipate her danger join rising.
No sooner had he stepped into the adjoining room and locked the door than Agnes heard the light tap on the wood panel.
"Come in, room service," Agnes called.
The door was flung open and a crisp uniformed Dick Henderson bounded across the threshold. "If I'm what you ordered from room service, then your order is here and ready. Surpise!"
"Dick!" she rushed towards him. "I didn't expect you for another couple of hours," she lied, as she had talked with base operations at Clark Field but ten minutes before and had learned that his plane was early and had already landed. She played the part of the perfect wife who had not seen her husband in eighteen months by devouring him with kisses. The last kiss was long, warm and affectionate.
Dick finished the kiss without assistance from Agnes. "That's pretty good, Agnes," he said as he marched away pulling off his cap and tugging at the tie and collar button. "The best kiss I've had in eighteen months, but I don't seem to recall that you were always this passionate a wife." His back was turned so he could not see the sudden look of cold fright that came to her face. She felt that she had given away the ball game and he was now wary and knew that she was here to give their marriage the axe.
"People change, Dicky-boy." She tried to sound alluring.
"You're damn right they do, baby." He peeled his shirt off. "And your old man is one of the biggest changes of the century. No more of this ass kissing. Baby, we're glory bound. We're going to rip the top right off this old town tonight." He jumped to the middle of the bed, shoes and all, and extracted a large rolls of bill from his pockets. "Did you ever see green rain, honey? Well, this is it." He proceeded to pull bills from the roll and toss them in the air. Agnes caught a ten, and then a twenty. She missed the next bill but stared as it floated down to her feet. Father Ben Franklin had never looked so good. Even as she gazed at the pouchy face on the hundred dollar bill several others fell around it.
"How? How did you get so damn much krinkly-green?"
"No question, honey," there was a note of serious ness in his voice. "I didn't rob a bank, nor did I win at poker. Just don't ask questions and you can't get hurt. If you know, then you might make a slip and that could cost us both our lives."
He jumped down onto the floor beside her. His grasp was strong upon her thigh. With his other hand he scooped back up the stray bills and kissed them lovingly.
"This is our visa, Agnes. Our passport to anywhere. First we're going to have a ball and then we're going to get the hell out of here. I've had it, baby. I'm sick up to the gills of death and blood and fighting.. Let these little yellow men have this part of the world. I don't give a damn. But if we are not out of here before the Japs or the Chinks get here, you could end up being a very rich widow."
"But you can't just walk onto an airplane and leave. You're in the service."
He began to fondle at her breasts. "I ain't going anywhere, honey. But you and your mother-in-law are going to take a nice round-the-word tour by way of Australia, South Africa, the Caribbean and into South America."
"My mother in-law?"
"Yeah! Here's her passport." He flipped the blue folder out of his hip pocket and threw it into her lap. Agnes opened to the picture page and studied the photo of a grey-haired, bespeckled woman in dotty mid-western clothes.
"My God! It's you!" Agnes laughed.
"That's right, honey, meet Helen Henderson, your mother-in-law. She's pretty well endowed, isn't she?. Baby, each of those false boobs that I'll be wearing are carefully packed with a hundred grand each. Enough to keep us for a long, long time in the land of the pecos." He looked at her tenderly. There were almost tears in his eyes as softly he said," I did it all for you, Agnes. So please don't leave me now."
"You knew?"
"Some shyster lawyer from Mexico wrote me and tried to hold me up for a second fee on your divorce. I told him to go fuck himself. Why did you do it?"
Agnes looked down at her hands. Her mind was racing ahead. She and Ollie had not planned for anything of this nature to happen. "I was so lonely. Dick. You haven't been home but a few months out of seven years of marriage. I just couldn't stand it any longer."
"Do you still feel the same way?"
"Not if we can be together and not separated," she lied shyly, and was trying to figure out what she was going to do with Ollie. Ollie who had a big donger, but not a sou in his pocket. Richard who was not that heavily endowed but now reeked of thousands of dollars. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. With play acting passion she clung to his neck and commanded him to love her. He responded to her wish and crushed his body into hers as their mouths opened and each hungrily explored the inner reaches of the cavity.
There was a light tap at the door and they each tried to ignore it.
"Is that your room service order?" he asked when the tap turned into a knock.
"Probably." she said as she took a little bite at his ear lobe.
"Don't answer and maybe they'll go away." He pulled her lips back onto his own.
The knock turned into a regular pounding and was over shadowed by a booming voice. "Hey, you two love birds, open up in there!"
Agnes jumped up in alarm. "Ollie!" She whispered hoarsly as her eyes widened in fright.
"What?." Dick thundered.
"I ran into him at the Clipper basin this morning. He's stationed over here and I told him you were coming in from Singapore and to stop by for a drink."
Dick leaped to his fee and cupped a hand under her chin, violently jerking her head upward to meet his steady glare. She could tell by his look what he was thinking.
"No. Dick, honest," she whispered. "Believe me, I didn't have. .
"Get over there and let the bastard in." He shoved her toward the door with such force that she almost fell. He rapidly started to fill his pockets with the bills.
Agnes straightened her skirt and was almost to the door when she turned. "You'll find glasses and ice on the dresser. Why don't you fix us all a drink?"
"Sure," he said sarcastically, "what will be toast?"
"Our reunion," she smiled sweetly as she smoothed out her hair. "Doesn't take a woman long to make her choice when there's money involved, does it?"
"No, sweetheart, it doesn't."
Ollie stormed the room like it was a beachhead, slapping Agnes on the rump, like a long lost sister, and greeting Dick with a barrage of filthy Marine lingo. After a couple of drinks and amiable talk of old times they left to have dinner and then go night-clubbing.
Their final stop, for a night cap, was in a small bar around the corner from the hotel. Even at one a. m. the stools and most of the tables were packed. Agnes was having trouble with her stomach and had made several trips, throughout the evening, to the ladie's room.
Dick Henderson watched, from his table, the reflection of the people mirrored in the glass behind the bar. At a table, near at hand, a young sailor sullenly carried on a conversation with a Philippine girl, whose bleached hair looked out of place with her smooth oriental skin. She appeared to be watching two Marines in a booth and only nodded her head in answer to the sailor's many questions. The sailor was also aware that he was being eyed steadily from the bar. He turned his body so that the well dressed Chinese merchant could have a clear view of what he carried between his legs. He casually dropped his hand into his lap and let his hand rub down the length of the bulge. When he reached the head he tapped his finger on it in a pointing gesture. He stared directly at the balding gentleman, then down into his own lap and then back at the bar with a face that showed that he was asking the question, "Do you want that?" The buddha like head barely nodded an affirmative answer. The sailor said goodnight to the girl and walked out of the bar. Seconds later his new keeper followed.
As much as he was looking forward to crawling between Agne's legs tonight, he rather envied the sailor. He had gotten so he got quite a charge out of looking down and seeing a male mouth devouring his stiff hard cock. He could feel the blood rushing into it just by thinking about it.
"Brother, don't lie to me," he heard Ollie talking to him, "I hear the scuttle-butt and it says that you came back with half the chink treasury." Dick knew that this was all speculation on Ollies, part. He was trying to put together the bits and pieces that he probably had heard around camp. Dick was a loner in Shanghai and Singapore. No one in the Corps knew about his hustling, or could any of them find that the information that was at his fingertips as a clerk in the Regimental Command was worth as much money as he had received for it.
"Every body makes a few bucks here and there on far east duty," he finally told Ollie and prayed that Agnes would hurry back so the conversation could be changed.
"Laying on your back?"
"Look, Ollie, don't get cute. When you were in Shanghai I introduced you to a guy, because he wanted to meet you. If he gave you a blow job and paid you for it, that's your business. I doesn't mean I was doing the same thing."
"Crap! You've had more cock suckers swallow or spit out your future children than anyone in the Corps."
"Can you prove it, wise guy?"
"No"
"Then change the subject!"
"What do you plan on doing when your hitch is up next month?" Dick could not figure out if this was a change of subject or a new probing attack. He could see Agnes coming across the floor.
"I propose to get the hell out of the service and this damn country and any other country that the Japs have their eye on. Get out and stay out...." he paused to let Agnes take her seat, "and maybe before my hitch is up."
Ollie nodded absent-mindedly. "Run before you can see the whites of their eyes, huh? I wish I could help you." He longed to get him out of the way. He could sense that Agnes had weakened and told him nothing yet.
"You'd best think about helping yourself." He took the last swallow from his glass and looked toward the bar to catch the attention of the waitress. His attention however was arrested by the look that he received from the serving boy who had been darting around with buckets of ice and a tray to clear away the empty glasses on the unused tables. Dick had seen this look in too many eyes to mistake the communication that it revealed. He reverted his atention back to the table.
"A bomb, Ollie. That's what your sitting on, a time bomb. No. 7,000 of them. Some bigger, some smaller. What have you got here? Nothing! No large defensive installations. Just over 7,100 islands that Tojo wants to be part of the rising sun. Only Luzon and Mindanao are worth fighting for, the Japs need land for their people. Do you know that every bit of gas, every drop of oil and all the heavy machinery and automobiles have to be imported? Once the Japs start to squeeze like they are doing with China, you'll be cut off from the outside. How long can these islands survive something like that?"
The waitress did not bring the drinks but had given the job to the serving boy. After placing them carefully in front of each person he let his arm brush teasingly against Dick's shoulder.
"You sure as hell are trying to paint a gloomy future," said Ollie, and yet his mind and eyes were on Agnes.
"Boy," Dick painted a grimace on his face and pulled at his stomach with his hand, "I think I'm getting the runs like you've had all night, honey. Excuse me while I go to the bathroom. If I'm going to be gone as long as you've been all evening, Agnes, you might talk this big lug into putting some money in the juke box so you can dance. Watch it, though, he probably will step all over your feet."
Agnes noted that Richard was being very solicitious, but could not put her finger on the actual reason. She was also glad, and yet a little frightened, of this opportunity to speak with Ollie and let him know how things now stood.
The men's room was lit by a single bulb that hung from the ceiling and barely illuminated the area. The place smelled of stale urine as the plumbing was not modern and had no water flush, save for the buckets that were brough from the kitchen and sloshed over the drain a couple of times a night. The two stalls were solidly built from floor to ceiling and had actual doors. Dick took a quick peek into each and found that there was no glory hole cut between them. Also all messages of greeting had been recently white washed off the walls. He turned to the urinal, which was flush with the floor. After unzipping his pants he had to go through a little squatting dance as he reached his hand down into the flap, took a hold of himself and pulled it forth.
The blood had not fully subsided, but enough so that when he started to show off it would show apparent growth. He pulled at the fore skin until it almost covered the head. Steady boy, he told himself, don't go getting it started yet.
He stood for a good full five minutes and no one came in the door. He had almost decided that he had read the signs wrong when the door opened and closed quickly. The boy looked frightened and nervously came up to the urinal. He did not even start to prepare himself to take a leak.
"Please," he whispered, "you will not tell that I am in here."
"Of course not. But why aren't you supposed to be in here?"
"The bossman he no like for serving people to use this room, we must use one in the alley."
"Then why did you come in here?" Dick turned and looked directly into the chocolate brown face with the saucer eyes of the deepest black. The question was asked gently and with a smile.
The boy was confused. "I though you wished me to come and say hello."
"Oh! And how do you say hello to a person in here?"
"You do not know? Oh, dear. You were just like the one who taught me, except he wore the Navy clothes. I thought you maybe wanted me to help you smile as he showed me how to make him smile."
"And how was that, son?"
"He took me into this little room and showed me how to put my hand around his thing and pull on it until he smiled and it shot all over the wall."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"I think so."
"Is that what you want to do with me?"
"I think so, general."
"Come on." Dick went into the booth with the short lad following. He closed and locked the door. The boy watched in fascination as he undid his belt buckle and dropped his trousers and shorts to his knees. The ten watt light over the commode gave very little light.
Dick worked on himself until he had it at full tilt. "There," he said, offering it to the boy who gingerly took it in his small fist, "am I as large as your sailor friend you made happy?"
"General you are much larger and much prettier."
"How old are you, son?"
"I have eighteen years. Four working in this establishment."
"And you've never done this before?"
"Only the other time. Our boss does not like for things like this to happen in his bar. He talks with us all the time about things that can be done and for us to report if we see such things. He talks so much I get curious as to why people do these things if they are so wrong."
"Did you suck the sailor?"
"Oh no, General. He did not ask me to do that."
"Would you have if he had asked you?"
"I don't know, general. I don't think I really know what is meant by it. I have seen the writings on the wall about it and I have heard the bossman speak of this thing, but I don't fully understand. Is it also a way to make a person smile and be happy?"
"A very good way, my friend. A very good way indeed. You enjoy the feeling of having a man in your hand right?"
"I think so."
"Do you want me to teach you another way to make me happy?"
"By this sucking thing?"
"Yes."
"I think I would like to learn from you something as I learned from my sailor friend."
"OK. Now sit down here on the stool and let me face you. That's it. Now open your lips a little way and wet them. That's right. There, see how good it feels to have that hard cock pressed against your lips. Now open a little wider and lick the sides of it with your tongue as I push it in a little way more. Steady! Don't try to take so much at once and you won't choke like that. Take my cock just a little at a time. There now, hold still just like that and keep your mouth in an oval. I'm going to start pumping back and forth with my hips. Feel that friction? Now start to suck on it just like you would a piece of sugar cane. Damn, that feels good! Now hold still so I can really fuck you in the mouth for a minute. Baby, you're doing great."
Dick pulled himself out of the mouth. "Now I'll show you something else. Did you really like that?"
"It tickled. But tickled very good. It made me get all pimply and my own got all big."
"Let me see?" The boy unbottoned his pants and took out his cock that was no longer than five inches and as round as a screw driver handle. Dick took it in his hand and gave it a few pulls. "Does that feel good?"
"Yes. The sailor, he did not touch me."
"Would you like to see what it feels like when I do to you what you were doing to me?"
"I think so," the boy said with enthusiasm.
Dick squated on his haunches and dove his head between the seated spread legs. It did not take him long or any strain to push the cock all the way into his mouth. His jaw muscles were strong and he could pull the cock in and out with forceful gulps. The boy began to gasp and pant. Dick took his mouth away for he didn't want the kid coming yet. He knew that once a novice came he would run away and Dick would be left in frustration.
He pulled his stiff prick to one side. "Take your tongue and lick all over these like you were doing with my cock." The boy obliged without a question. Dick could feel his senses soaring as the hot little dart moved all over the finely haired globes and touched at the erogenous zones that many men of late had discovered for him. He was to a point that he felt he could almost go the full limit sometime just having this action performed on him.
"Take one of them in your mouth and suck on it." He was gasping hard now. The round marble popped into the youthful mouth and was pulled back and forth. Dick though he was going to black out from the erotic sensation that it stirred in his entire body. He knew he was building for that break over line so he could ask for that one last perverse desire. Only once before had he been built to the peak he now stood at and only once before had it led to what he now craved more than anything.
He pushed the head away. His eyes were aflame with lust.
"I'm going to turn around now," he gasped, "and I'm going to bend over. I want you to take your tongue and do the same back there that you have been doing with my cock and balls."
"Oh, General, I don't think I want to learn that."
"You want to make me happy, don't you?"
"Yes. But I want to make your front happy first."
"Here." Dick reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill. He though it would be a one, but it was a ten. To hell with it, he though, I'm hot now and got plenty of money. This is yours if you do what I want. And what's more I'll even let you stick me back here, just like you would a woman."
The boy took the bill and examined it. This was as much money as he would earn in a month. He put the bill into his pocket and smiled at Dick.
Dick leaned over until his arms came to rest on his legs. He could look back through his legs and see the boy tentatively start to lean forward. The first touch of the tongue was high up on the buns.
It circled the fleshy area and then dipped slowly into the cleavage. Dick reached behind him with both hands and pulled his butt apart. The fiery tongue came close to the slit and made him shiver with delectable delight. He moved his hips, trying to get the object to enter, and each thrust moved it away instead. He held still and calm, waiting for the boy to determine his own attack methods.
"Zow! Sight on target," Dick hissed. The triangle spear pierced him as far as it was allowed to go and then moved in a circle around the entire rim. Now it did not pull away when he rotated his hips.
"Now!" he whispered. "Stand up and stick it into me now." He remained in his leaning position, with his hands holding the sides open. The en-trace was handled without problems for the tongue had lubricated the area well. Dick stood still as the first flashes of fire ate at his body. He tried to relax and allow a greater portion of the cock to probe into him. Slowly he backed up, instead of pulling away, until he coud feel the hairless stomach pressing against the small of his back.
Finaly he was used to having the foreign object sticking into him. "Now, baby, fuck! Fuck for all you're worth!"
The slender arms wrapped around his waist and pumped with increasing speed.
"Hurry baby, hurry, before it start to hurt."
"It's almost there. Just a little more. A-s-s. Tighten up your ass. That's it. A-A-a-s augh! Oh! AA-Augh!"
"Quick," Dick almost yelled. "Sit down and take me back in your mouth. I'm just about ready to come. Suck! That's it. Take it a little deeper. Pull with your jaws. That's the way. Suck now. Suck it down into your throat. Don't choke. It's almost here. Here it comes. Take it all. Keep going ... I want ... to ... come ... all ... the way."
The boy kept up his action until Dick had to push his head away. While he wiped himself with the rough toilet paper the youth darted out the door. Dick was spent. He really had enjoyed himself. He knew that Agnes might not get a full lay tonight, but he felt he could work her up something.
He was just about ready to leave when he heard the commotion from the other room. People were running and shouting all over the place. At first he thought the boy had been caught and that would be hell, but no one came into the John. With his nerves calmed he walked back into the hallway and out into the main bar.
People were running in and out from the street jabbering away in Talog. Several servicemen were trying to ask them questions. A small scrawny old man with dirty white hair hobbled into the bar and up to the hostess. He kept pulling at her arm and chattering in a squeaky voice. He seemed quite agitated about her staying there. She brushed him away and came by the table.
"Please forgive. Is my father and he wishes me home. I turn on radio now." As fast as her ample frame would allow her she pushed behind the bar and turned the knob on the radio that looked like a bomb head cut in half. She was sweating profusely and dabbed at the fleshy jowls with a lace hanky. She paled as the words streaming from the receiver started to have meaning.
The nearest thing to her was a bottle of scotch. She took it by the neck and began to beat upon the bar. "Pleeze! No talk, Pleeze! All Amelicano servicemen. Pleeze go to your bases. Your Pearl Harbor, she's been bombed."
There was a moment of stunned silence before pandemonium broke loose in the bar. Servicemen grabbed for their hats and dashed out the door.
"Jesus H. Christ!" Ollie snorted. "Let's go, matey."
"Fuck you, buster!" Dick yelled at him. "We've got to take care of Agnes first. If those little yellow bastard have struck at Pearl they'll have planes over Manila by tomorrow. You take Agnes back to the hotel and get her packed. I'm going on over to the PanAm office and reconfirm her flight out of here on the Clipper tomorrow afternoon." He was gone before Ollie could even open his mouth.
Agnes was fuming that in a time of crisis like this all Ollie was able to think about was the service while Dick's first concern was to get her out of the area of danger. Then she had a chilling though. He had have thought of her, but he also had a seat on the Clipper tomorrow afternoon under the name of Helen Henderson. She didn't know which one to be the angriest with.
CHAPTER NINE
After the first touch of panic the city settled into a deathly calm. Agnes sat in the room listening to the click of the overhead fan each time it clicked by. She had said no more than a half dozen words to Ollie who sat in the overstuffed chair and poured glass after glass of scotch and water down his throat.
"Damn! Where in the hell is he?" He went to the sideboard to pour another drink. Surprisingly, he's the one cracking under the strain, Agnes thought. "We've got to get back to the base to report in."
"Is that all you can think about,?" she snapped. "Don't I mean anything? You forget that, legally, I am your wife."
"Bull shit! We went through a ceremony, sure. But the minute you saw that stud, what did he talk you into?"
"Look, Ollie. Nothing has changed. As a matter-of-fact this might even be better. Dick's got over two hundred thousand dollars. I couldn't let him know that I had divorced him and married you. We would have lost out on that gold mine."
"Then you're going to let me handle it my way?"
"No," she barked, "I'll not be a part of murder. Not now! Look Ollie," she tried to sound soothing, "when he comes back you go on back to the base. I'll let him put me on the Clipper. He says the Japs will probably bomb here tomorrow. OK, if they do, and I'm sure they will, then is the time to make it look like an accident. Some way I'll talk him into letting me take the money back with me." Her smile hid that she was really planning to get Ollie out of the way so she and Dick could make their escape together unnoticed on the Clipper. It would be real easy to hide the facts of the divorce from Dick.
"You wouldn't be pulling a double cross, would you, baby?"
"Hell no! You know I...." She never finished the sentence for the long dead radio broke into a static and the announcer spoke first in Talog and then English. Ollie recognized the voice of the next breaker. The tones were clipped and of a steady monotone beat. General Douglas MacArthur informed them first of the disaster at Pearl Harbor. An attack on the Philippine Islands was emminent. All United States Citizens were being evacuated. All military personnel were urged to report to their bases. He had been informed by the President of the United States that they could consider themselves under a state of war until he could appear before Congress the next morning to ask for a formal declaration of war against the Empire of Japan.
Agnes broke into tears and rushed into the bathroom.
Dick did not return until 10:00 a.m. the following morning. His uniform had lost it's crispness. A day's growth of beard showed even though he was so blond. His eyes were ringed and residue showed at each corner.
Agnes was asleep on the bed, fully clothed. Ollie was sprawled in the chair, his head tilded back and mouth agape. His heels were firmly planted into the floor to keep him from slipping from his precarious perch. His blood shot eyes opened as Dick crossed the room.
"Buy your way out, Mack?" he asked.
"What in the God damn hell do you mean by that?" Dick really was striking out at the sleeping Agnes, for he felt that she must have given his plan away.
"You know damn well what I mean. You got enough loot to get yourself out of this mess. It ain't going to be no ladie's tea party, you know." He pulled himself out of the chair and went to the dresser to refill his glass with the last of the scotch.
"Well, the leopard is changing his spots. A few hours ago you wouldn't believe this was coming. You even were willing to help me get away then."
"I didn't think you were right. Now that it's here, I can't let you desert. We got to get back to the outfit. This mess will be over in a few months and then you will be out of the service."
Dick knew the risk he was talking about. It was against the law to go awol, but it also was against the law to sell out his countrie's information the way that he had. He wasn't going to sit around and see his money become useless in a Jap controlled country.
"You dumb boob! You stinking dumb boob. Your few months is going to stretch into years. How long do you think it will take to rebuild the Pacific fleet. It Ain't No More!"
"We don't need the damn fleet. We can hold them off here and at Wake, Guam and in Hawaii while the British stop them at Singapore."
A low chuckle came from Dick Henderson's throat that built into a maniacal laugh. "In two ways there won't be a Wake Island or Guam. Without the Navy you have no supply line, dad. You're going to hold out hope for Singapore? Brother, the Limeys poured 250,000,000 into the defense of Singapore. They call it the greatest naval base in the far east, but the laugh's going to be on the British Empire. All those million of dollars worth of guns and every damn one of them pointed southward covering the approaches from the sea. But that's not how the Imperial Jap Army look at it. They're marching right now, dad, right in John Bull's back door."
"Why, you dirty traitor!" Realization dawned on the slow moving mind of Ollie Chambers for the first time." All this time I thought you got your money from letting those chinks suck your dick. How much did you sell us out for, buddy?"
Dick made a lunge for Ollie but the distance was too great and he stumbled. It was the split second that Ollie needed to reach into his pocket .and draw forth a five inch metal tube. Dick heard the click as he started to rise. It was too late. Ollie sprung and caught him off balance. The cold steel blade flashed past his eyes. Ollie pushed with all his might and held his other hand over Dick's mouth to smother the scream. He held the pose until is fingers became sticky with the warm cozing red liquid. He quickly jumped back, pulling the knife with him.
Dick rose and with a look of disbelief stared first at the middle of his tan shirt that was turning a deep brown. Then he turned and looked at Agnes. She was sitting in the center of the bed. Her eyes showed stark terror and her knuckles were white where the teeth were biting into them.
Dick closed his eyes, shook his head twice to cast off this dream and then slumped to the floor.
Ollie raced to the phone and asked the operator to get him a number. There was a pause and then a shattering click. "Hiro? Ollie here. Call off your boys from looking for Henderson, he came back to the hotel. No, I haven't found it yet.
Damnit, Hiro, he's not going to be able to tell us now. Yah, that's right. Can you help me get rid of him? Jesus, that's a stiff price to pay. Alright, shut up and get right over here. I'll dig it up from his wife."
It was a changed Ollie Chambers that turned from the phone. For the first time he was aware of Agnes. "Where in the hell did he stash the loot?"
"You went ahead with it anyway, didn't you?"
"I said where is the damn money?" He was on his knees going through the pockets pulling out wallet, keys, and personal things.
"I don't know. Put something over him. I can't stand to see him that way."
"Put something over him," Ollie mimicked, "he doesn't have anything on him but some pocket change." He took the spread from the bed and threw it over the prone figure.
"He gave me all his money before he went to the Clipper office. It's just a little over two thousand dollars."
"You must be kidding."
She was very cool. "I'm not kidding, buster. That's why I told you to lay off of the plan. You've killed him for a lousey few bucks. How much is Hiro going to charge."
"A thousand."
"Half the spoils of war. Big deal."
"You're taking this loss quite calmly."
"Of course. I still have the insurance money coming." She rose from the bed and opened her suitcases. Without raising his suspicion she at first took garments from the dresser drawer and packed them. He did not noticed when she took the old dress, wig and heavily padded bra and placed them among her own things.
Quickly she placed a suit and two dresses on top of the pile. She had the full each, would get the insurance money on Dick's life and with any luck Ollie wouldn't come out of this phase of the war alive.
"Now I think you had better get out of here," she turned and said to him. "It will be better if you're at the base when he is found. I'll turn him in as missing when I go to board the plane."
"Now who is being the cool one?"
"I'm just being practical, Ollie."
"You're the boss. Do I get a kiss goodbye from my wife?"
"Not with him lying there like that and blood all over your hands."
Ollie went to the bathroom to wash and then left without as much as a goodbye.
The knock at the door was light and discreet. Agnes cracked the panel and peered out. A tall man in a white tropical suit, accompanied by the serving boy from the bar, stood in the passage way. As soon as they saw that the door was ajar they pushed their way in.
Hiro Torgison motioned to the boy to close the door. With hard and cold eyes he scanned the room. Speaking in soft Japanese he pointed toward the body under the spread. The lad shuffled to where Dick lay and pulled back the covering. Agnes turned away but could not close ears to the intake of breath as the boy recognized his recently met friend. She could not understand the words, but noted a sign of excitement in his chatter.
With apparent calm, Torgison silenced the boy and slid his six foot frame into the over-stuffed chair. Noting a pack of American cigarets on the end table he dutifully helped himself. After the match had fired the end of the white taper he sat back and inhaled deeply, letting the vapor exit from his mouth and re-enter his nostrils, while his eyes, inch by inch, undressed the American woman with covetous lust.
Hiro Torgison was the product of a mixed alliance, but his distainful look came from many years of being on neither side of the family tree and having each side of the family look down upon him. His blondness and family name gave away his Scandanavian parentage. Only a slight slant of the eyes and honey tint to the skin outwardly showed the fact of having been dropped from the womb of a Japanese mother. When he was old enough to feel the full brunt of the hatred that surrounded him in an all-Japanese home, he planned his escape. From the docks in Osaka he stole aboard a freighter. A week later, cold and half starved, he left the ship, not even knowing where he was. He had no trade, and little formal schooling. He was not handsome, he was beautiful, and he used his unusual beauty to win him favors and supply the necessary funds for living. He was not particular as to who he granted himself, male or female, American, British, Philippino, Japanese or Chinese, so long as they could pay the going rate. With time, he branched out into other lines he became a wealthy man from solving other people's problems that they felt were below them. This would be an extremely easy job for him, as the kill had already been accomplished.
"I would gather, Mrs. Henderson, that the Mr. Ollie Chambers has departed?" His English was perfect.
"That is correct. He's gone back to the base."
"It is best." He let off a rapid fire recourse in Japanese, whereby the boy gingerly put the cloth back over Dick's face and went into the room, closing the door behind him. Hiro turned back to Agnes, who had seated herself on the bed. The flash of his smile lit only half of his face. "I do not find it wise to discuss business in front of any employee. Mlyaki work in my bar around the corner." He paused until he could hear the water running in the basin.
"Now, my dear, it is most unfortunate that I find cannot accept the currency of your land, as I fear it will be useless here in Manila very shortly." He noted with sardonic pleasure the fear that dilated her pupils. "But there is no need for alarm. You will please to go around the corner to my bar. There you shall be met by a business associate of mine who will exchange your dollars for Japanese yen. Due to the circumstances the rate will be slightly higher than yesterday. You will purchase 400,000 yen to pay me my fee." He pulled at the cigaret.
"Four hundred thousand," Agnes screamed, "where in the hell do you expect me to get money like that?"
"My dear woman, do not excite yourself. My fee has not jumped. That is only a little over one thousand US dollars."
"Then why don't you just take my money and exchange it yourself?"
The twisted smile played back upon his face. "It is essential that you be out of your room when we remove, shall we say the evidence, of your husband's disappearance and therefore I sent you on this errand. Upon your return we shall wait until it is time for your departure. You will check out and be very concerned that your husband could not get back from the base to bid his loving wife goodbye. You will not cash in the extra ticket that Mr. Henderson purchased." Agnes shot him a quick glance." Do not be surprised, my dear, I am good in my business because I am most careful to learn all about my clients. Five minutes before you are to take the boat to the clipper you are to tell Steward 23 of your concern. Remember Steward 23, as he is my man. When the plane has taken off he will then phone for you. You will be in the clear and not have to answer questions by the police. At the proper time the body will be found."
It was still a nightmare for Agnes. With her head pounding from too little sleep, she put fresh make-up on her face and walked down into the lobby, out upon the street and around the corner to the bar. What the night before had been an attractive south sea island setting was now, in the clear light of day, a jumble of dust encrusted palm fronds, and bamboo poles turned to hide the areas eaten away by time and hungry termites. The floor had never seen the wet side of a mop.
The young myopic-eyed Japanese businessman came immediately to the far booth that Agnes had selected and seated himself with out a bow, as she was a woman and therefore below his station. He could not hide his nervousness, and yet conducted the proceedings with the same formality that would have transpired in the bank. Even though they were the only occupants of the bar, except for the toothless bartender, he kept himself well with in the shadows.
He pulled the air back in through his teeth as Agnes counted out ten one hundred dollar bills upon the sticky surface. When he smiled Agnes caught only the glint of the two golden front teeth.
"Ah so," he hissed, "these bills are extremely large. Yesterday maybe. Today doubtful. Need two more to make it maybe, yes."
"Damn," hissed Agnes in a like manner and pulled over eight hundred dollars in ready cash without having to tear open the bra. But she could not argue, although this is what the banker wished for her to do. With a degree of disappointment showing on his face, because of the speed of the transaction, and no haggling, he picked up the bills and slipped them into a leather pouch, carefully tieing a string around it. From his breast pocket he took a three inch stack of fresh crisp yen notes and proceeded to count and place 400,000 notes one on top of the other.
As quickly as he came, he departed, melting into the approaching noon crowd, but at least giving Agnes a cursory bow, now that he was two hundred dollars richer.
Less than ten minutes had elaspsed and Agnes was sure of her next move. She took a chance that they would have had time to remove Dick from the room and went back to the hotel.
Hiro was standing at the window. Dick was gone and the floor scrubbed clean. Agnes threw the packet of bills on the bed.
"Very good, Mrs. Henderson," he said as he turned and walked to where she stood. "Very good indeed as my retainer. Now shall be take care of my actual fee."
"Fee? I understood your actual fee was the thousand bucks, Mr. Torgison!"
Hiro slipped his fingers under the thin gold chain that held her locket suspended and ran his finger up and down it's length so that the back of the finger could touch and caress the smooth white neck. "Mr. Chambers seems to have kept you in the dark then on my real purpose for accepting this case."
"It would seem that he has. Now, take your hand away from my necklace." Agnes tried to pull away, but the quick fingers twisted the chain and drew her closer.
"No one tells me what to do, Mrs. Henderson, especially a cunt. I use woman to suit my purpose. They don't use me to suit theirs, as you seem to do with your men. You are part of my pay off." With one hand he ripped the seam of the skirt and sent it cascading to the floor. He placed himself in front of her and crushed their bodies together so that the white linen of his trousers could rub against the soft silk of her panties. "I know you're a size queen, baby, so how does that prick feel against your cunt?" Agnes averted her head. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he sneered, "I almost forgot. You like to measure them in your throat before you wrap your cunt lips around one. Here then!" He shoved Agnes onto her knees and pulled her head forcible into his crotch. With both hands he dug into her hair and rubbed her face roughly back and forth across the cloth area that housed the stone hard penis.
Agnes doubled her hands into fists and beat at the male thights. Hiro widened his stance and pulled the leg muscles almost taut. Agne's action therefore hurt her hands more than any injury that she could inflict on Hiro.
She opened her mouth and sunk her bared teeth into the side of the full grown object.
"Harder, baby, harder. I can really Jazz on enough pain. The head. Run those fangs up to the head and bite like hell."
Agnes didn't think he could stand the full hurt that she wanted to administer, due to her rage. She tore open the buttoned flap and drew forth the cock. With one lunge she forced it as deep into her throat as she could stand. She felt like she was going to faint from the quick pain that shot through her jaws. The hammer like head was pressing firm against the soft pallet at the rear of her mouth, and yet she could still see that several inches lay uncovered. She could not force anymore of the immense cock into her without retching. Agnes pulled back her lips and let the white ivory come to rest on the two sides of the rigid flesh. With all her might she clamped onto the skin and them reared back, pulling the sharp edges roughly over the surface. Instead of the electrifying scream that she had steeled her ears to hear, they were greeted by a satisfied moan.
She had to raise her lips to pull back over the cock-head. She knew surely that the tender zone she surrounded could not undergo the same torture, and again bit deeply into the boneless area. .The first rush of warm fluid she took for the blood she was drawing and sank her teeth even deeper to full well leave her mark upon him. With the second emmission she became aware that it was not blood that forced her cheeks outward. With disgust she pulled away. Hiro did not fight her, as he had been given untold pleasure at her expense.
Agnes was crawling on her hands and knees toward the bathroom, her cheeks still resembling a chipmunk preparing for winter, when the first, of several, deafening sounds shattered the stillness of the normal Manila siesta time.
Silver pencils of death descended from the planes and continued toward earth. Although several miles away, Hiro still felt that he could hear the screaming banshees as they fell. Then he realized that the screaming was coming behind him in a womany cry. Agnes was on the floor, her head between her knees, her throat in full throttle trying to close out the madness around her.
In one leap he was beside her and brought her to a standing position with a single jerk of an arm. His slap across her cheek was brutal and harsh. The scream died in her throat with a gasp, and no other was allowed to escape through the force of his hand pressed firmly against her mouth.
"Come on. We got to get the hell out of here." Agnes began to stuggle and took a choice bite out of his hand.
"You dumb bitch. I'm trying to save your life."
"Buy my luggage! I can't leave without it."
"It's not going to do you a damn bit of good if you're dead. We'll come back for it after the raid."
Agnes did not want to call attention to the contents of the luggage and thus lose it or have to share it. Reluctantly she hurried along behind the fleeing six foot frame.
Twice in the street she almost lost him, due to the pushing and feaH-ridden crowds. The explosions were getting ever nearer.
The cellar of the bar was dank and smelled of the years of erosion that steadily ate away at the wooden support beams. From a small room at the far end of the earth cut-out she thought she had heard several groans, but market it up in her mind as being one of the first casualties of this attack.
For the better part of two hours she hunched close to the base of a near empty wine rack, too frightened to actually move.
WHAAAAAAANG! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Great clumps of the earthen wall split and dropped to the hard packed floor. The bomb seemed to have opened directly over them and in so doing produced the three smaller blasts. The woman and children around her uttered not a sound but clung closer together in a stance of self-protection.
Then came silence. The silence of death in the street. Hiro came down the stairs and motioned for Agnes to join him The white suit was now disheveled and smudged with dirt and grim.
"Come on. I'm going to get you to the clipper base."
Wordlessly she followed, for it meant she was being taken to a form of safety and the only escape route left open. If the plane was still there and undamaged.
No thought came to Agnes, except for her own safety, until they were out of the cellar and fighting their way along the street, now clogged with the terror stricken citizens of Manila.
"My bags," it suddently dawned on her, "we've got to go get my bags!"
"You must be kidding." Hiro pointed down the street. Where the hotel had been standing a couple of hours previously was now a gaping hole. The seven story structure was a smoldering ruin, not even being tended to as the firemen were more concerned with fire areas that were racing out of control.
Agnes clutched her purse close into her breast. Within it's silk lined interior were the few hundred dollars that would have to last until a new beginning could be thought out.
CHAPTER TEN
Three days later Agnes sat impatiently waiting, in the anteroom of a west coast naval hospital, to meet face to face the man who claimed to be Dick Henderson.
"Mrs. Reed. Mister Carter. Please come this way. The doctor is ready for you." The sailor in the stiffly starched whites escorted them down the ema-culatly clean hallways and into an adjoining wing.
The second door on the left was held open for them and Agnes hesitated but a second before entering.
"Mrs. Reed, I'm Commander Jarvis, it's so good of you to come all this distance."
"How do you do!" She shook the hand of the white haired elderly doctor in the knee length white coat. She was taken aback not to find Dick or the man who claimed to be Dick in the room." I hope I can be of assistance."
"That is our hope also. Would you step this way?" He walked over to a full length mirror on the door leading to another room. When Agnes could see herself fully imaged the doctor flicked a switch on the wall and her countenance was voided out in favor of a new scene. Beyond the glass two men sat at a table playing chess.
Agnes could not control the gasp or involuntary rise of her hand to her mouth. It was Dick! And yet again it wasn't. This man sat poised, confident, sure of himself and the area around him. Dick had always been nervous and jittery. He would never sit still long enough for a game of poker, let alone chess. But what was it, she thought, that was still there of the original man who she had seen stabbed to death? The once boyish face was now finely lined, but not from worry, the hair was bleached by the years, and his wide set eyes, once a lovely blue had faded to agrey, but contained a sparkle of enjoyment of life that she had never encountered in them.
"Who is the man with my hus ... with Mr. Henderson?"
"Quite a remarkable person, my dear. His name is Rafael Banos. He is from the Philippines and came to the states after the war. He's credited with saving Mr. Henderson's life. Throughout the war he kept him hidden from the Japanese. Then one day he turned up here, long before my time, even. He hasn't missed a visiting day in twenty-three years. We were going to release Mr. Apple-man to his custody until we found out he was actually Mr. Henderson."
"Surely this ... this ... alien ... knew that he was not Appleman, all these years."
"Not really. Sit down, my dear. Over here and you can still see them at play." The Navy doctor seated himself at his desk and motioned for Jerry to sit behind Agnes. He opened a manila folder on his desk.
"The boy was only fifteen at the beginning of the occupation. He worked for a man by the name of...." he referred to his notes ... "Hiro Torgison, who was half Japanese, and therefore fearful of the invading army. When Manila was seized, Torgison took all of the identify papers from Dick Henderson and tried to make good his escape to Bataan. We can only surmise that he ran in the wrong direction, was caught in the death march, and thus your husband was listed as dying in that march or in the concentration camp.
"Rafael, fearful that the Japanese might find your husband, and not knowing that these were essential when liberation came, preceded to lift the papers off a dead soldier in the street."
"Buy why didn't Dick tell him who he was?"
"Mrs. Reed, Dick Henderson did not know who he was!"
"Does he now?" Agnes saw a glimmer of hope on the horizon.
"Not fully. Only fragmentary portions of his past life. You would be a mystery to him, that is why you are seeing him in this manner. You probably have noted many changes, other than those we all seem to suffer with the advance of years." He blushed. "Excuse me. I could not conceivably include you in that statement."
Agnes relaxed into the chair and laughed. "You are forgiven, Doctor Jarvis, and I'm sure that Elizabeth Arden is cheering your comment." She was going to get away with it, she told herself. It was now duck soup!
"Hair for instance. Did you notice how grey his has become? This is only natural," he did not even wait for her reply, "he spent four years in a cellar. It was absolutely black, except for when they could steal candles. It was musty, smelly, black, dirty, dank and malevolent. I would not like to frighten you by showing you the pictures of the man when he arrived at this hospital."
"And I would not care to see. You asked me to come all this way to help you. I can't see where all of this is leading to."
"For the past five years we have been allowing Mr. Banos to take the patient home on weekends and for the holidays. We were ready to release him into Mr. Bano's full care when his memory started to return. When we were sure of his true identity we could not proceed without your knowledge and consent."
"My dear sir, this is highly embarassing. I am remarried. How can I have two husbands?"
"Technically you do."
"Technically, hell! I divorced Dick Henderson before going to the Pacific. I was in Manila to tell him that when the Japs attacked."
"And yet you collected on his insurance." Jerry spoke the words softly behind her, but with the effect of a torpedo finding it's mark in the soft underbelly of a freighter.
"You're damn right I did!" She turned on Jerry, her eyes flashing as the untold story of lies flooded back into her brain. It would take more than one salvo to scuttle this girl. "I may not have been his wife, but legally I was still listed as next of kin, and now as next of kin I don't give a damn if you give him to old Slant Eyes or keep him for yourself. I've no use for him."
"But you did have use for his insurance money at the time," Jerry said without raising his voice.
"W-e-I-I," Agnes hissed. "It all is very clear. Uncle Sam is only worried about his goddamn money."
"Something like that."
"Well, isn't this rich? Old chin whiskers is all upset because little Agnes made off with $5,000 of his greenbacks. How does he want it paid back, wise guy," she was now shouting, "in cash or will a check do? Or does he want to take it out in trade? If that's the case, buster, you've already had it. Tell your boss that you've had yourself a five thousand buck screw."
"And Ollie Chambers?"
"What about Ollie?" She was instantly calm.
"You were already married to him at the time?"
"Yes!"
"But you still traveled under the name of Henderson, registered at the hotel under that name and came back to the states as Mrs. Henderson." Jerry was pacing the floor, throwing out questions with the rapid fire pace of an attorney during a cross examination.
"I didn't have time to change my passport, and everything was lost when the hotel was bombed."
"Really, Mrs. Reed? That hotel is still standing. Do you mean this luggage." He flung open a closet door and puled out two pieces of pre-war leather strapped suitcases. They showed their age and areas where mildew had discolored the tan surface.
Jerry open both pieces at her feet. Memory flooded back as she recognized the long forgotten clothing. She could hot bring herself to look at the second open parcel. This had been Dick's. But curiosity overcame prudence and she glanced into the rectangle.
Without pawing through the contents she could not tell if the bra was still there. What luck, she thought, $200,000 dollars and they don't know it's there, and Richard probably doesn't remember.
"But how? After all these years." She put on her sweetest, most charming smile of innocense.
"The boy rescued your things when he came back to the room. You were not there so he took them for safe keeping until you or Mr. Torgison returned. Neither one of you showed up again, however. His parents have kept them in an attic all these years."
"How very thoughtful of them. I know it may sound silly," she turned her charm on the doctor," but there may be things of sentimental value here. May I now claim them, again, as mine?"
"You do feel that these things are yours?"
"Of course. Why, there's my red dress and if you'll look in that pocket you'll find a locket with my name engraved on the back."
"And is this grey wig yours, or this black dress, or this passport made out in the name of Helen Henderson?"
"No, but...."
"No but, what, Mrs. Reed? You don't care to comment? Then let me tell you. This suitcase belonged to Ollie Chambers!" Jerry took the look of surprise on her face as one of fright. He's got it all wrong, she thought, but how in hell could she straighten things out without further implicating herself.
"You came to Manila, Mrs. Reed, with every intention of doing away with Dick Henderson, but you had to have a way of getting Ollie Chambers back out of the country with the money he had taken from the Japanese. Look closely, Mrs. Reed. Look at this picture of a sweet little old lady. But behind that wig, glasses and hat are the features of Ollie Chambers." How? How? Agnes thought as she looked into the passport. She was sure that Dick had shown it to her and it was his likeness. How the switch? How did they get Ollie's picture. And where was the bra with the money?
"But your plan backfired, didn't it? Ollie turned on you and Dick found out. Ollie and you had to kill Dick, but you didn't do a good job. When the boy came to remove his body from the room he was barely alive. He was not being paid to speak, so he kept his silence, and because of that Dick Henderson lives."
"But what happened to the god damn money?" Agnes screamed out the question and then sucked in her breath. She had sprung her own trap.
"No one will ever really know, Mrs. Reed." Jerry was again very calm. "When Rafael returned to the room it had been searched. He put everything into the two suitcases and locked them. Either Ollie or Hiro Torgison returned to the room during the raid. The building you saw demolished was not the hotel, but a similar building on the next block."
"What now?" Agnes was very tired when she asked the question. "That's not up to me. I've done my job."
"And very ably. I should hate you, but I don't. Tell me, Jerry, what rap are they going to throw at me?"
"Income tax evasion." He didn't crack a smile. "What?"
"Henderson won't press charges and the statute of limitations have run out on everything else, except that you forgot to pay your taxes from 1940 to 1956."
"Well, I'll be a son of a bitch. You got me to spill my guts for nothing. Thanks for the buggy ride, bastard!"
CONCLUSION
"Goodbye, Doctor Jarvis, and thank you."
"Goodbye, Mr. Appleman, Mr. Banos. Don't forget to come in for your check-up each month until you go back to the Philippines."
They waved until the small second-hand car was out of sight.
"Appleman may go for his check up, but never again Dick Henderson. Zowie! It's over Rafael. I feel just like a young kid again."
"We are not really old, my friend."
"No, not really. But when I think of these past twenty-seven years. Was it really worth all this acting?"
"Caution was what we decided, Dick. It would not have been wise to bring all that money onto the market too quickly after the war. Slowly was the proper way. Now we are rich and can go home to Manila and to all that we own."
"Home. My weekends with you have been my home. I shall not know how to live as a rich man with a .$200,000 dollar nest egg."
"Is not the same, my friend. With wise counsel it is more like ten times that amount."
"How did she look? He changed the subject quite rapidly.
"The same as when I told you how she looked when I would return from Miami each time."
"Will they be hard on her?"
"I think not. She has very powerful husband. He fix things for her."
"Well, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. The government thinks that Hiro or Ollie got the money, and so does she now, and they all think that I think I'm still Appleman. Who in the hell was he, anyway?"
Rafael giggled as if he were a fifteen year old boy again, and with his oriental face he didn't look anywhere near his forty-two years.
"Appleman you should know very well, my friend."
"Why in the hell should I know him?"
"He was sailor who taught me how to work my hand till you showed me that the mouth was better."
They both broke into peals of laughter.
"Let's get on home, Rafael, so I can see if you still remember everything I taugh you, and then let's go down into China town and find us some pussy. I haven't had a good piece in years."
