Her hands slipped from his shoulders, down the front of his body and, cupping her hands like a baseball catcher, Sigrid grasped his cock and balls in her palms, closing over them like a heavy blanket. He gasped again, staggering until she thought he would fall.
"Christ!"
"I said keep quiet."
"Nobody can hear," he cried, the sweat popping out on his forehead.
She massaged his balls and then circled his penis with her thumb and forefinger. She began to pump and the small thing, dark and rather dried up like a prune, began to stiffen. Henry was losing his fear in favor of desire and in seconds he was a pointed little rod. It wasn't much, but it was normal and Sigrid wanted it desperately.
She reached far between his trembling thighs and raked the crack of his buttocks. He was wheezing as she raked and pumped at the same time. Then he was falling forward to bury his face in her breasts. He was between them, like a child tucked among two comforters, sucking in her sexual warmth. He sucked a nipple as she stroked the back of his head. Then he fell to his knees and she shoved his face into her crotch.
His mouth was open and she felt his lips and then his teeth probing through her moist hairs until he was nibbling on her stiffened, soggy lips. She gritted her teeth and raised her face toward heaven.
What ecstasy!
1
SIGRID WAS GLAD TO HEAR THE JUDGE'S WORDS. IT seemed incredible when the others in the courtroom saw her tight little smile, but she was smiling because, at last, something was being said that she could understand.
"You are hereby sentenced to the State Women's Correction Facility for a period not to exceed one year," the stern judge intoned as he looked out at Sigrid from below heavy brows.
One year.
One year out of her life. Perhaps she needed that year to find herself. She'd heard enough stories from her county jail cellmates to know that they gave you lots of time to think at the women's prison.
"Correction facility." That was a joke. They couldn't correct anything. They said that if there was anything about a prisoner that wasn't mixed up, they'd find it and mix it up in a year's time.
She nodded at the judge in a tribute of thanks. So she was innocent, but the judge didn't know that. He'd conducted what had seemed to be a fair trial, but it had been the lawyers who had done Sigrid in.
She loathed that Baumgartner person, the ugly man with the small mind and the large hands ... hands he kept trying to put on her body. The district attorney's man had cut him to ribbons and it would be Sigrid who would pay the price.
No, it wasn't really the fault of justice. It was Nick who was to blame, although she still couldn't understand why or how he'd done what he had done. Perhaps she could, at that-and she simply didn't want to admit it.
Sigrid had been so naive for so long that, faced with life and its harsh realities for the first time, her mind wouldn't allow her to meet the ugly picture head-on. Perhaps that was how nature kept people from going insane, even though the method didn't always succeed.
Nick!
A stab of pain went through her heart as the matron took her arm and turned her away from the bench. She hardly was aware of being led from the courtroom and the stares of some fifty spectators, for thoughts of Nick filled her head. She was still in love with him. Certainly she was, for a woman with Sigrid's depth of passion couldn't turn off love like a light switch-even when she knew in the back of her mind that she'd been sacrificed by her lover.
Her lover! She thought back to that last evening in her apartment ... with Nick ... and that terrible scene when the police burst in on them. It had been a little more than a month ago . ...
She sat at her dressing table, fresh from her bath, powdering her lovely white body. What a body it was. Tall, slim yet exciting in its plunging curves and hollows. Sigrid was as tall as many men but constructed like the complete woman.
Her parents had known-especially her father-and they'd been concerned when she announced six months before that she was going to quit school and St. Cloud and go off by herself. She'd needed to find herself, she'd told her family and her college friends. There had to be more to life than a pretty college town, the virgin snows of the Minnesota winters and the pure blue lakes of summer.
So she'd run away, all the way to the West Coast, and as she examined her generous breasts she wondered if it hadn't been sex that had driven her from the safety of the home hearth.
After six months she was loving life, and Nick, as she'd never loved before. Her job was dull, her apartment was drab, the city was like a sewer after the clear skies of the upper Great Lakes. But that didn't matter.
She had Nick.
She rose from the dressing table and, robe flowing, she glided to the full-length mirror on the closet door. She peered at herself.
Yes, she was spectacular. Nordic with her dazzling blonde hair that nobody in Los Angeles could believe was her true color. Aloof with her icp-blue Viking eyes that dared any man to touch her. Stunning with her heavy breasts, thin waist, curving hips and long legs that might have gotten her into show business. Graceful with her stride that was at once a mature swing and a pleasingly coltish gait.
Sigrid was not interested in the movies, for she had stuck by her promise to experience life in a real sense, and nothing was further from reality than the sound stages of Hollywood.
Yet, how real was her relationship with Nick? After all, she knew almost nothing about him, even after two months of passionate encounters.
Passion! Sex! Desire!
They were Sigrid's weaknesses. She knew that Nick wasn't quite what he said he was, but she didn't want to ask questions. The last thing she wanted was to drive him away, to lose him for good.
Slowly, she parted her negligee and revealed her body to the mirror from head to toe. She was, she admitted, proud of that body.
Look at those breasts. Heavy, yet firm and high, creamy white and tipped with red points like the dots under exclamation marks. Her shoulders were firm, square, yet capable of turning to melted butter when a man put his arm around them. Her ribs poked excitingly against the flawless skin below her breasts, pointing like arrows to her navel. This jewel was set in a slightly convex pillow of her belly flesh. It pointed the way to her pubic area, where the final truth about her blondeness was revealed.
Somewhere under that mass of blonde fur lay her vagina. Not many men had found it. One or two when she'd played childhood games. One or two in high school. One in her freshman college year. But none after that, for she'd then begun to wonder about herself and her increasing passion. It was then she'd begun to plan on a campaign to discover herself. It culminated in her flight to Southern California and this very apartment.
And Nick. She wished he'd let her share his apartment and he'd promised that she'd be able to move in before long. But, for now, she lived alone ... waiting ... waiting for his return.
A tiny thrill went through her and she felt the tingle in her very groin. For Nick was returning to her bed that very night. She hugged the filmy garment close to her body and did a little twirl in her excitement.
She paused and looked into the mirror again, opening the negligee. She placed her thumbs on her nipples and worked them in tiny circles. At once the puckered pink skin began to stiffen and in seconds her nipples had popped out. They were tingling and eager for a man's touch.
Her fingers slid down over her ribs and she touched her navel. It, too, was alive and jumping with eagerness. Her breathing wasn't relaxed, as it usually was after her bath. She was up tight, just from anticipating her man.
She whirled from the mirror and dropped her negligee to the carpet. She danced to the bed and stepped into her pants. She picked up the brassiere and pondered the filmy pink thing. Yes or no? She decided not. After all, Nick only became annoyed when her under things got in his way.
Again she touched her breasts. No, she'd leave them loose to breathe. When she was this hot a bra only stifled her, made her squirm and itch, made her long to run into the bedroom and tear the clinging thing from her body.
She stepped into her satiny outer pants and pulled them up. They clung to her bottom and Nick simply loved the way her bottom challenged anything tight to keep it in check. She slipped the top over her head and settled it loosely over her hips. There, her newest pantsuit looked wonderful. He'd love it. Before the mirror once again, she examined herself from three angles. Yes, her breasts bobbed under there, very exciting and inviting.
She stepped into a pair of black slippers and that was that. No stockings, no girdle. A simple ribbon around her hair to hold back her mane of flowing blonde hair, and she was ready for the evening.
Sigrid skipped from the bedroom, through the front room and into the kitchen. Everything was ready. The parlor was freshly cleaned, the pillows plumped until they were fat. The meal was in the oven, simmering and waiting ... just as was the cook. The small dinette table was set for two and there was a bottle of White Pinot chilling in the refrigerator.
She stared out of the kitchen window into the darkness. There was no view here, as there had been in St. Cloud, and she missed the openness of Minnesota. Here she only looked across a tiny yard into the windows to the apartment twenty feet from her own. California might have been a glamorous place, but Sigrid had seen very little of it-except for Nick.
The metallic rattling made her catch her breath and her hands clutched at her breasts for an instant. Then she was flying from the kitchen, halfway across the living room when the door opened.
"Nick!"
He closed the door quickly and grinned, carefully putting his case to one side before extending his arms. She flew into them and hugged him around the neck as hard as she could. She heard him catch his breath and, chuckling, he patted her on the back.
"Hey, I'm perishable," he chided.
"So am I," she breathed, "but I've been on ice so long waiting for you, darling, that I couldn't spoil."
She leaned her head back and then kissed him hard on the mouth. His lips were slightly cold from the outdoors and there was a bit of stubble on his chin. She worked her chin back and forth against it.
He jerked his head back. "I'm cutting into that tender flesh."
"And I love it," she exclaimed, fastening her body against his all the way down to her knees.
"Hey, isn't that something new?" he asked, trying to get a look at her pantsuit.
"Just for you ... until you snatch it from my quivering body, you beast." She whispered these words in her low voice, wanting to work him up until he matched her anticipation.
But he held her at arm's length, his eyes darting down her body and back to her face. "You're good to come home to, baby. Real good, after ten days on the road."
She pecked him on the mouth again and then glanced at his case. "Haven't you even been to your place?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. I want you to take care of my sample case like before. All right?"
Sigrid groaned. "You mean tuck it up in my closet, as though it's something you've stolen?"
He nodded. "Valuable stuff, kid. Very valuable. Wouldn't want any cleaning woman laying her hands on it."
She cocked her head as she peered at him. Nick was a traveling man for a pharmaceutical firm and he carried valuable drugs and other merchandise in his sample case. He often left it in her apartment, instead of taking it to his own place. More handy and an excuse to stop to see her on his way out of town, he always explained. She didn't argue, even when he occasionally had her deliver the case to an odd address during the night. It was at times like these when she wondered and became a little frightened at what Nick was doing ... what he was really doing.
He was picking up the case, thrusting it at her. "Come on, put it away, so we can relax and enjoy ourselves."
She took the thing, glancing at his hands. "If you're going to stay with me tonight I insist you remove those silly gloves this instant. I won't be handled by a man wearing pigskin. Who else in Los Angeles needs gloves, anyhow? Nobody but Nick Caletti."
His smile was thin, but he began to strip the gloves from his fingers. "I dig my gloves, baby, and don't you forget it. Nick and gloves go together. So cut the ribbing, okay?"
"Sure, honey, anything you say."
"Well, that's what I say." He jerked his thumb in a harsh gesture that sent a shiver up her spine. "Get your ass into that bedroom and get that case up behind the closet blankets, like you always do. Pronto!"
He was slapping the gloves softly into his left palm as she scurried from the room. She got a chair and lifted the case high into the closet, tucking it behind the folded blankets. Then she returned to the living room to find him sprawled on the couch. He was relaxed; the gloves were nowhere in sight.
She hovered over him, wanting him but knowing that he was not yet as anxious as she. He was preoccupied, as he often was during his first hours back from his business trips. Sigrid wrung her hands.
"A drink, Nicky?"
He nodded. "Why not? I'll drink whatever you drink, baby."
In the kitchen Sigrid poured Scotch over ice. She preferred it with water, but she knew he liked her to be tough, to take it over the rocks as he did. If it was what Nick wanted, then it was what she wanted.
She came back to him and put the drinks on the low plastic coffee table, sitting by his side. She didn't snuggle. It would be up to him to begin playing his role. Sigrid knew she was being much too wanton around her man, and she knew enough about men to realize that they didn't like women who threw themselves at their feet.
If only she'd learn to control herself!...
She took a deep breath, seeing his eyes drop to the swelling under her blouse. "Good trip?"
He pulled a long face. "Not bad. My business doesn't worry much about ups and downs. Everybody needs our stuff all the time, in good times and bad."
"Did you go all the way to Denver again?"
"Yup." He pulled at his glass after they had touched rims and she drank with him. Ugh, but it was strong. "Let's drop the questions."
"Why shouldn't I ask about your work, honey? After all..."
He startled her by slapping his glass sharply on the table and catching her wrist in his strong fingers. She was jerked against him, but not because of passion. But because of a deep anger that flared in his eyes.
"I told you, what I do on the road is my own business. As long as I'm not playing around with the broads, you got no beef coming...."
"But I'm not complaining...."
His manner changed again and he eased his grip. "Just so you remember, Sig. I'm a traveling man and you'll get no lies if you ask no questions."
"If you're not seeing other women why would you have to lie?"
"There you go again...." His face turned dark another time.
"All right, all right." Sigrid held up her hands. "No more questions. I just wish you were in the city more. I never should have fallen for a road man."
He shrugged as he drank from his glass. He drained it but when she began to rise to get him another, he pulled her back on the couch.
"Baby."
"What?" she asked.
"I'm getting in the mood. I'm starting to relax." Sigrid felt the tingling in her body increase. She was on fire. ... Damn it!
2
SHE KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG. SIGRID HAD ALWAYS known that she hadn't chosen an ordinary man as her lover. He was moody, secretive, deep ... but perhaps all of these things made her desire him more. Was it love or desire? She didn't know; she knew only that she needed him-now.
She was still tingling as she sipped the Scotch. The stuff wasn't so strong now that the ice had diluted it somewhat. She put down her glass and turned her knees toward him, looking him up and down.
"I've waited, Nick. You know I'm always faithful."
He touched her cheek and then his hand slid down to her breast; surely he could feel her excitement. "Sure, baby. I appreciate it."
"How much, Nick?"
He turned his eyes toward the ceiling, taking her glass and draining it. "God, not that marriage jazz again."
"I've never asked you to marry me, you know that. I understand we have an ... an arrangement that could be broken off ... terminated at any time."
He squeezed her breast and she felt the delicious stab of sexual pain rocket into her vitals. "Sure glad I got me a college woman. Love those big words, baby. Terminated. Imagine that. They taught you to say exactly what you mean."
She lifted her chin, trying not to put her hand over his. It was terribly difficult to maintain control when he was doing things with her nipple. "You know what I mean, at least. Please don't accuse me of trying to trap you." She was the one who was trapped, for she had to have his love. It was a biological necessity.
"You're right, kid," he muttered, his face close to hers. He touched the tip of her nose. "Spring one little trap on old Nick and he makes a fast exit. There are plenty of books in the library. I don't need to read yours."
Making an effort, Sigrid stiffened and pulled away, getting to her feet. "You needn't speak to me like that, Nick. I'm not going to become just another book in your library. If you want to go away..."
She turned and marched to the window, her hands clasped before her so tightly her knuckles hurt. There was no view, but she kept her back to him while his low chuckle came to her. They both knew she was trapped, but she was pleased that she'd had enough pride left to stand up to him a little bit.
She heard him getting to his feet and a glass clunked on the coffee table and the ice rattled as he made certain the Scotch was gone. Then he was coming toward her and when he spoke his voice was one inch behind her ear.
"Take it easy, baby. I'm Nick, remember?"
She didn't reply, preferring to let the wall of silence speak for itself. God knew it wasn't a very strong wall. He'd be able to walk right through it whenever he chose.
His hands were on her shoulders and she closed her eyes, swallowing, her throat growing tight. She was tingling again and her breasts were lifting. The place where he'd touched her on the nipple was still burning and she knew that breast had to be swollen to twice the size of its mate, thanks to his brief caress.
His breath tickled the hair drawn over her ear. "You know you want it, you big Swedish bitch. Don't play around if you don't mean it."
She tried to make her words icy. "I do mean it, Nick. I won't be just another woman in your stable."
His hands ran down her back and her muscles jumped in tiny spasms, making her skin jerk. He felt that jerking and he laughed again. "Nervous?"
"Not about making love with you," she spat.
Chuckling, he was reaching under the tail of her pantsuit top and, with a feeling resembling a sonic boom, his hands were on the bare skin of the small of her back. His fingers were right on her waist. They felt hard and rough against her smooth, milky warmth, but they were such exciting hands. She was tempted to scream and twist around and seize him between his legs.
She gasped.
"Ah! like that, eh, bitch."
"I hate you, Nick."
He snorted. "Love, hate ... what does it matter? Some philosopher guy said there isn't much difference. Who said that, college girl?"
She shook her head. She couldn't think, not when his hands were down there. His fingers slid higher until they were bumping along the padded humps of her vertebrae. She arched her back and her chin went higher. She wanted to plant her feet apart and pull his hands between her legs, but she had to hold out. She struggled to remember who she was, her family ... her pride. What pride?
She was lifting her arms, holding her elbows out from her body unconsciously, not realizing she was clearing a path for his groping hands. God, how well he used them! She was tingling like an electric circuit gone mad. She grasped the side of the window frame and hung on. It was all she could do. Let him come, let him assault her as he wished. She needed the servicing desperately.
"Ah!" His little word of surprise did not surprise her. He never wanted her to wear any under things at all. To have abandoned her bra in anticipation of his visit pleased him.
"I'm learning," she snapped. "All too well."
"You're doing great, sugar, just great." His knee touched the back of her thigh and she wanted to collapse on the carpet. "You're a bright student of love."
"Not love, lust."
"Who gives a damn? You like it. I like it. Nobody gets hurt."
"Someone must get hurt-and soon, Nick." She whispered her words into the blackness outside the window.
He snorted again and his hands slid around to her sides. "My baby is nervous tonight. We've got to do something to help her relax."
She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lower lip as his wiggling fingers kept coming around until they touched the sides of her breasts. They were like hot pokers and she jumped, quivering like a colt anxious to leap from the corral. He moved over the heavy softness of her breasts, ever farther until his hands were an inch on either side of her nipples. Here he paused.
"You gotta say it, kid."
She shook her head, her blonde hair swirling. "No."
"Yes. Tell me you want it ... now-or I walk out."
"Please...."
"Say it, baby."
"Touch them," she whispered. "Touch them all the way. I want you to touch me everywhere on my body." She whimpered like a whipped puppy. "I want you to put your penis all the way up into my womb, the deeper the better. I don't want you to stop until I've had enough...."
He chuckled as his hands slid over her breasts and he caught the almost dripping nipples between his fingers. He scissored them until they were as sensitive as tuning forks. They stabbed out like golf tees, her swollen breasts filling even more behind them.
"Ah!..." she breathed again.
"You wanted it, so you're getting it."
Her head fell back on his shoulder as he rolled her breasts between his hands. He might have been a baker kneading fresh dough that rose as he massaged the yeasty stuff.
Sigrid began to grope, her hands waving behind her until she touched his thigh. She immediately moved until her palm was over his crotch and she gripped him hard. He was already like a stone in there and his heavy head was throbbing as she hooked her fingers around the flange.
He gasped and fell back, letting go of her pleasure hills and staggering against a chair. It was Sigrid's turn to smile. "So, you enjoy yourself, too."
"I never denied it, baby. You turn me on like a heat lamp. There's no doubt about that."
She went to him and stood at attention before him, her chin up like a soldier on parade. "Do me," she commanded.
His hands came up and this time he lifted the tail of the blouse up over her breasts. He had it around her neck and then, as he pulled it over her head, the ribbon in her hair was jerked loose. Blonde hair cascaded over her naked shoulders and across the tops of her mounds.
He stared like a child looking over a selection of candy, unable to decide which piece to eat first. His hands came up under her breasts and he held them cupped, like they were grapefruit in his palms. But much sweeter than any fruit ever served at a breakfast table.
She looked down at the curving whiteness, the pink tips, generous and stiff, their very ends stabbing toward his own chest. He touched the nipples again and then his head was down, his face between them.
He worked his nose back and forth while Sigrid rested her hands lightly on the top of his head, guiding him with a gentle touch. He climbed first one side until the nipple popped between his lips. He released it at once and went back into the deep, warm valley.
"The other side, Nick," she breathed. Each touch of his lips was a little calling card of pleasure to every nerve in her breast. She wondered if her heart would pound its way out of her body.
Again his mouth climbed and he sucked on the other nipple. It was like iron now, grating on his teeth. He nibbled lightly and then harder until she cried out.
"Hey, that hurts...."
Nick bit even harder and Sigrid pulled at his hair. He gave a final vicious snap and lifted his face. They watched a drop of red ooze from the nipple. "I hope you're satisfied," she scolded. He enjoyed being cruel to her at times like this. He was a curious mixture of passion, tenderness and sadistic habits.
"I'm pretty pleased, yes," he admitted. "There's something about putting a little mark of imperfection on something that's perfect, you know? like bringing down an angel and showing her up as something not quite so terrific."
Sigrid moved away and leaned down to pick up her blouse. "I'm not going to let you...."
He gripped her upper arm and pulled her straight again. "Like hell you're not."
"Let me go, Nick. You may leave now ... and take your case with you. I don't want to see it or you again...."
His face turned darker than before. "Don't give me that shit, baby. You pant when I snap my fingers, remember?" He gripped his crotch. "There's your master. Don't you forget it."
"No!" Sigrid hung her head, the hair dangling over her face. "I have some pride. I know you're a sick man and I want to help you. But not by giving myself to you over and over again. You've got to see a doctor, Nick. Really, I mean..." His slap stopped her. She never saw it coming as the hand came up from his waist and caught her smartly on the lower right cheek. The crack filled the room like a gunshot, making a vague echo against the stucco walls.
Sigrid stared and her cheek was on fire. She knew there had to be a silhouette of his hand on her cheek. She tasted blood where the inside of her lip had been cut. First her nipple, then her cheek and her mouth. Nick was a true menace.
"Get out!" she screamed, hands at either side of her mouth. "Get out or I'll call the police."
He surprised her with a knowing smile that twisted one side of his face. "Don't give me that shit. You and me are gonna play games and then I'm gonna fuck you until you turn inside out-just like always.
Sigrid sighed and she touched his cheek. "No, Nick. I haven't been good for you. Please, you've got to take care of yourself. I worry ... a lot."
He knocked her hands aside and fastened his fingers on her breasts again. He dug deeply and, even in her great pain, Sigrid felt her body switching on all its systems. She was tingling all over again, ready for the sex act, ready to do what she'd been put on earth to do ... with this man.
She struggled but he caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them behind her back. Then he sucked on her nipples again while the rockets of pleasure exploded in her breasts. He released her wrists but she left her hands linked behind her back. He ran his lips to her throat and then over her shoulder, down to her ribs and then he was almost on his knee, kissing her navel.
"Don't worry about me," he muttered in a muffled voice as his tongue darted into her navel. "If the world is sick, don't blame Nick Caletti."
Sigrid closed her eyes. There would be no denying him. She needed his body ... their bodies had to mate. It didn't matter if she were ashamed later ... as she always was. Just so the people in St. Cloud never found out what was really going on.
He straightened and, touching her shoulders lightly, he turned her around. "God, what an ass," he breathed as she turned her back to him. "Those cheeks would look great in the Met, bronzed for all the world to see."
"Please, Nick. I feel ashamed enough. Don't make fun of me. I ... I don't want to be a slut." How she wished she could pull away from him again.
He touched her buttocks and her cheeks quivered. She stood like a statue, straining to keep control. "I want to stop, Nick, right now."
He slapped her hard again, this time on the right buttock. The crack was loud against her tight pants and her flesh smarted. "Shut up with that talk," he commanded. "Come on, quit the screwing around and out of those things. I'm through playing kid games."
Sigrid turned to face him again. "I can't. I know it's so wrong...."
"Balls! Strip down, baby-pronto!" He began to take off his jacket and then his shirt and tie.
Sigrid watched him as she slid the zipper at her hip and peeled the top of her pants down. The satin of her underpants slid into view and she began to roll them down, too. Just before she reached her crotch she stopped. Nick was getting out of his shorts. Already his suit was a neat pile on the chair and his shoes and socks were on the carpet, neat enough for a military inspection.
He folded his shorts and put them on his socks before turning back to her. He waved his hand impatiently at her groin and she continued rolling. The knit pants and the satin went to her knees and they examined her blonde bush. How it had yearned for him earlier, when Sigrid had stood before her mirror, forgetting what a beast he could be. Or did she love him because he was a bastard? Did she enjoy punishment as much as he loved to hand it out?
She shook her blonde head.
"What's up, kid?" He laughed. "Besides me."
"I'm afraid I'm as sick as you are...."
He hit her again, this time with his fist in her side and, as she doubled over in pain, she felt the convulsion in her vagina that told her an orgasm was close. Yes, she was sick.
Sick with desire. She looked at her naked body and then his. His cock was at right angles, throbbing and twitching like a poisonous snake.
And she wanted to be bitten ... again ... and again ... and again . ...
3
TEARS ROLLED DOWN HER CHEEKS. SHE FELT DIRTY, taken, weak, ruined....
"Knock it off," he growled.
Sigrid turned her back to him and buried her face in her hands. He came close and twisted her body harshly, whirling her body in a half-circle.
He peeled her fingers from her face and mashed his lips down on hers, gripping her waist against him as he did so. She felt her lips being forced back. Their teeth grated with a harsh sound that rattled her brain. Then his tongue was thrusting against her teeth until she opened her jaw a fraction of an inch.
He darted inside like a quick snake, his tongue probing across her own. He shoved deeper, into her throat until she feared she would choke. All the while her breasts were being flattened against his naked chest and she felt the sizzle of heat where their skin rubbed. Her hips were also against him and his penis was a hot poker against her lower belly.
He was grunting with the effort of thrusting his tongue. Soon he withdrew it and a dribble of his spit ran down from the corner of her mouth. Nick grinned into her upturned face. She was breathing harder and he knew it.
"Admit you like it, kid."
"My God, haven't I enough times?"
He wiped her chin with the back of his hand and then wiped his hand on her shoulder. As she leaned back from him, their hips still grinding in what was becoming a slow and erotic rhythm, he tucked a hand between their chests.
His touch was on her breasts again and she was unable to stifle a small gasp.
"Christ, but you get hotter every time."
She nodded. "It must be a habit-forming thing with me ... like drugs."
Nick stiffened and his eyes shot darts into her head. "What the hell does that mean?"
"What?"
He gripped her waist hard and the breath was being forced out of her. "That crap about drugs."
Sigrid shook her head. "Nothing. Why? Do you want something? Patsy upstairs has some grass. I've tried it once or twice. I might be able to get you...."
"Shut up!"
His face was lowered to her breasts again and, as he released her waist, his hands fluttered down across her belly. Sigrid sucked in her stomach, but his finger was in her navel, the hot, moist little hole that led directly to the heart of her passion.
He went lower and soon his hands were in her blonde bush. He was groping and then he found the very top of the outer lips of her vagina. He pushed hard and Sigrid gasped, her knees first clamping together and then slowly spreading.
His forefinger shot into her and she could feel the worming thing in her vitals. Her first feeling of revulsion was replaced almost at once by total passion. She shuddered and her knees wanted to buckle.
He was laughing as he held her by the waist. Whatever her man was, he was a super-lover.
His finger was joined by a second and her knees went wider. Finally she could stand no longer and as she sighed back against his arm he allowed her body to thud to the carpet. She lay on her side, twitching, her knees pumping as though she might be able to initiate her own orgasm.
He knelt at her side. "Come on, take it," Nick hissed.
She looked straight into his groin. His cock was lifting and falling, throbbing with his need. The end was slowly turning from pink to a deep red. She knew it could change to purple when he was supremely agitated.
Her fingers whispered over the tip and his muscles shuddered. He gripped his thighs hard to steady himself as she let her finger circle his cock behind the flange and tighten like a ring of steel.
He gasped and then his hands were on her again. He worked straight to her cunt and fingers were again pushing up into her. At once Sigrid was triggered and she pulled hard at his penis while her body turned to a bar of hot steel. She was coming.
Her hips came up from the carpet in an arch as she ground her shoulders and her heels into the carpet's softness. She shook and her nerves did a dance of joy as her sexual muscles convulsed. She was filled with a hot milky rush and then she sighed and fell back.
"You made it."
"Numero uno," she breathed, half-smiling. "Only a semi, honey. There's a lot more ... a whole lot more."
"I'm counting on it, kid, or you get slapped around something fierce. You know I want you to wait for me."
"But sometimes you're so slow...." She began to wail.
He pulled his hand from her pussy and slapped her again. It was a moist sound and she could feel the sticky stuff on her chin. "Never say that to me," he muttered, his face an inch from hers. "Never tell me I'm not the world's best man."
She nodded. "All right. Please, hurry now!..."
He spread her legs and eased his knee inside hers. Sigrid loved the feel of his stiff black hairs against the tender white skin of her thighs. His other knee came inside and he knelt over her body. In a final preliminary gesture he came down and kissed her on the navel. His tongue darted inside and the hot moistness triggered another response in her vitals.
Sigrid cried out, but then she jabbed her fist against her teeth to remain as quiet as possible. It would be terrible if someone were to call the police and officers were to burst in on their sexual pleasure.
Nick was hovering over her, his body extended, his dork wagging straight down from his crotch. It rammed into her hip, then her thigh and finally it slipped into her golden forest. He lowered himself an inch and the knob-turning purple now-dipped into her gates.
He entered her high and almost at once the head rubbed across the erect little button at the very top of her passage. She gasped and bit hard on her fist until she could taste the salty blood again. He went deeper and her convulsions were greeting him, the rippling muscles sucking him farther into her. The suction was so complete he had no chance to pull out, should he change his mind.
Soon he was seated and, lying heavily on her, he rested for an instant. Their wet bodies were slippery and he used his elbows to keep them on an even keel.
"Ready?" he grunted.
She gasped her answer, blowing a damp whisp of hair from her lips. "Oh, God!..."
"Forget God! You're with me now."
His hips came up and then down. As he established his rhythm Sigrid was able to thrust her loins down and then up to meet him. Their thighs smacked but his piston action was smooth, strong and clean ... very effective.
It was only seconds before Sigrid was climaxing for the second time. She felt her canal walls convulse again and suck his cock more deeply into her womb. As she expended herself he halted all movement and chuckled.
"Christ, but I turn you on fast, doll. Real fast."
"Now you," she gasped.
"Now me."
It was as though he deliberately waited until she was finished before he would allow himself to come. Perhaps it was better than climaxing at the same instant, but Sigrid didn't think so. Still, she had no complaints. Nick was the only man who had ever caused her to climax every time they fucked.
Now he was shooting. His seed was boiling from the splitting end of his dork, ramming into her, deeply along her walls. She wondered how a little pill could really keep the sperm from doing its job.
He shuddered and collapsed on her like a wet tire tube. She was slippery and steaming. His hair was a damp black mop. He rested for several minutes and then he lifted his head to peer into her face, his lips twitching.
"You're a good one, kid. Send my regards to your folks back in the Middle West. When your daddy screwed your mama and you came out, they provided you with plenty of sex."
Sigrid frowned. "Don't talk like that."
"Why not? Come on, cut the naive act."
She squirmed until he rolled from her and then she got to her knees, her arms folded over her still wet breasts. They were still swollen and she could feel her hard nipples pressing into her arms. She wasn't through with this man yet, but she wanted to get rid of him.
Sigrid got to her feet and looked down at his glistening body. His cock was soft and dangling against the carpet, a glob of sperm dangling from its tip. There was a three-inch spot of stain on the carpet that she would need to clean up before it dried.
"Let's end it, Nick," she said softly. "Let's end it before anybody gets hurt worse than they are."
"You're batty, babe."
She shook her blonde hair. "No, I feel danger. I sense something's going to happen. There's violence, tragedy, heartache...."
He laughed as he sat up and pulled a cigarette from his jacket on the chair. He lighted it and poked the match toward her toes, forcing her to leap away. Again he laughed.
"So I'm a sadistic son of a bitch. So what? You love it, baby, because you love being hurt. Come on." He reached for her. "Come on back down and I'll do you again."
Groaning, Sigrid tried to free her ankle from his grip. Then came the knock at the door. It was loud, authoritative in its command.
They froze and then his voice was low, harsh. "Who's that?"
She shook her head, her breasts trembling suddenly. "Come on, you're expecting somebody."
"No ... honest."
His head swiveled around the room. "Is there another way out of here?"
Sigrid almost smiled. "It's not my husband, for heaven's sake. Stop worrying."
The knock became a pounding and then a voice came through the door. "Open up! Police!"
"Son of a bitch!" Nick hissed, his voice still low. "No use hiding in the bedroom. They'll have a warrant."
Sigrid stared. "Hiding? A warrant? What's going on?"
He pulled on his pants while she got into hers and threw the top over her head. Barefoot, she went to the door, knowing her hair was a mess, her body was slick and smelly, and that anyone would see at once what had been going on.
There were two of them in plainclothes and the taller man showed her a badge pinned inside a leather wallet. He also pulled a document from his breast pocket and said something about a search warrant.
Sigrid backed up and they followed her into the room. The detectives looked past her to where Nick was pulling on his shirt. "Hi, cops," he growled.
"Good evening, Nick," the taller man said, a half-smile on his face. "Looks like we got here five minutes too late. Anyhow, where you're going you'll have plenty of time to remember your last piece."
Both men looked Sigrid over and they glanced at each other appreciatively. "Nice to see her up close for a change, Johnny." His eyebrows were raised.
"I told you she was all real. No padding, except inside honest flesh."
Sigrid bristled, standing straight. She knew she looked ridiculous in her bare feet and streaming hair. "What do you want? Does that warrant give you license to be insulting?"
"Get 'em, baby," Nick said, coming to her side. "You know what we're after," the tall detective said. "Where have you got it stashed?"
"You guys are crazy," Nick hissed. "Get out of here."
"Where is it, Nick."
"Where's what."
"The briefcase."
Sigrid turned to Nick. He was thinking, change flickering across his face. She knew the look ... when he was dreaming up a lie. He drew himself up and looked back at her.
"I figured you were messing around with something illegal."
She let her mouth drop open. "Nick!"
He shrugged as he looked at the officers. "I guess you guys got the goods on her. Sure, she carries this case around, but I never knew what was in it. I'm clean."
The cops chuckled. "Clean like a rattlesnake. Come on, where's it at?"
Sigrid was shaking her head. She knew there'd be trouble. "There's nothing," she pleaded.
"She keeps something on the top of her bedroom closet, behind the blankets," he said to the cops, his voice deadly calm. "You may want to look at it."
The taller detective motioned to his companion. "Watch 'em." He disappeared into the bedroom to return a minute later with the case. He put it on the coffee table and opened the catches.
Sigrid was staring at Nick as the others peered into the case. He was abandoning her, trying to make her look guilty. She should have known and, somehow, she wasn't surprised. She'd realized he'd use her in any way he could. She looked into the case. There were several bottles of white powder of varying shades.
The detective opened a bottle and sniffed. "Horse," he muttered to his partner.
She again peered at Nick. "Honey, what's it mean?"
Nick shrugged. "You tell me, baby. It's your stuff. I thought she had a supply of Chanel Number Five in there. I didn't know you messed around with H. That's a bad scene, kid. Real bad."
The detective snorted. "Cut the comedy, Caletti. It's your stuff. You were using her. Admit it."
"Where's your evidence, officer?" Nick smirked. "Who'd you see carrying the stuff out of here? Who have you been following for so long?"
"Her," the detective admitted, "but only because we wanted to trap you."
Sigrid gasped. "Nick, you knew I was being watched by the police?"
"Sure, baby. You shouldn't be so careless." He patted her hand. "But don't worry. They screwed up. I'm clean and it's me they wanted. They won't do anything to you except slap your wrist. Their big fish is off the hook."
The policemen looked at each other, doubt in their faces for the first time. Nevertheless, one said, "That's for a court to decide, Caletti. We're booking you both as pushers and we're going to convict."
"Balls," said Nick. "Two big ones, right up your rectum."
4
SIGRID'S NIGHTMARE HAD STARTED. WHAT HAPPENED between the time of the arrest and the time the judge sentenced her to a year in prison was almost an indistinguishable kaleidoscope of events.
The district attorney hadn't wanted Nick or Sigrid to be released on bail, but bail was granted and Nick got the money from a bondsman. But the trial date came quickly and soon they were in court.
Sigrid didn't like her attorney, a man named P. Ralph Baumgartner, a balding man with a paunch who seemed to spend more time trying to touch Sigrid than he did listening to her side of the story. He listened to her at times but she felt he didn't believe that any girl friend of Nick Caletti's could be innocent-in any way.
The court agreed with him. There was little evidence against Nick. Everybody knew he was a junk man, all right, but the district attorney couldn't produce the evidence. Nick's fingerprints weren't on the briefcase, but Sigrid's were. The staked-out police had seen Sigrid carrying the case from her apartment to another apartment across the city. Nick had given her the address but when the police raided the other apartment they found it empty. It seemed that everybody knew about the trap except Sigrid.
Frustrated, the prosecution and the judge threw the book at Sigrid. Nick was wiggling off the hook but, by God, they'd nail his shack-up good. True, she had no record but any pal of Nick's had to be a bad apple. No first-offense probation for her.
Sigrid, shocked through it all, could offer no defense and Baumgartner was of little help, except to plea for mercy on the basis of her record. Sigrid kept her eyes on Nick all through the trial but he rarely looked at her. They both knew how he'd lied to the police and he even took the stand to tell how he was innocent. But he went on to tell how he'd often wondered about Sigrid's secret briefcase, a briefcase he'd never seen opened.
She was thrown to the dogs to save him. She was certain that was the arrangement between Baumgartner and Nick. Give the frustrated court a victim and let them tear her to pieces. And that was what happened.
Nobody believed Nick but they got Sigrid. When they both knew what was going to happen Nick spoke to her during a recess in the proceedings.
"Thanks, baby. Believe me, it won't be long and I'll make it up to you."
She turned her back on him.
"Really. I'll set you up in style when you get out. This way I'll be able to stay in business and I'll really be rolling during the few months they put you away. I'll save it for us, you'll see."
Judge Harrison had glared down at her from the bench. He had taken brief note of her family, her clean record, her youth and her character references. Then he reminded her and the rest of those in the courtroom that any friend of Nick Caletti's was no friend of society-and he put her away for a one-year term. He also promised that the law would keep after Nick until he was put away with her-for a much longer term.
She never looked at Nick as she was taken from the courtroom . ...
She was with her attorney, Baumgartner, for a final conference before she was taken to county jail to await transfer to the state facility.
Baumgartner wore horn-rimmed glasses, a dark suit with a checkered vest and he was sweating on his high, bald forehead. His belly shook as he paced before her in the room that was bare, except for a conference table and two wooden chairs.
"I'll appeal, Sigrid. Don't you worry. We'll have you out of this in a week."
She gazed up from her chair with dull eyes. Her elbows were on the table and her fingers were laced together. "No, you won't. They're angry because Nick got away. Why did you let him tell all those lies?"
He shook his head and sat down, shuffling a mass of papers. "It was my duty to get him off any way I could."
"Even if you gave me to them."
He half-smiled. "I owe Nick, Sigrid. I don't owe you a damned thing."
"Drop the Sigrid," she hissed. "To you, I'm Miss Johnson."
He lifted his chin. "Who the hell do you think you are? You're a cheap whore, a shack-up for the-likes of Nick Caletti. Why do you suppose the judge didn't bat an eye when he sent you to the slammer? You're no lady, baby. You're a slut-and now it's official."
Sigrid sat up straight. "I won't listen to that kind of talk. Call the deputy."
Baumgartner held up his fat, pasty hands. "Take it easy, Sig ... Miss Johnson. Look, you want me to file that appeal, don't you? You're going to have to be cooperative."
The past weeks had been tough on Sigrid. She had heard many things and she wasn't surprised when she replied, "You can take your appeal and shove it."
"You don't mean that," he answered. His voice was getting oily, as it had several times during their trial conferences-when he wanted something. "Come on, play ball with me and I'll play along with you."
"Call the deputy," Sigrid insisted.
Baumgartner got up and ambled around to her side of the table. He stood behind her. "I can still help you ... if you're willing to be civil to an old man like me."
She sat woodenly, her shoulders tight, her hands still locked together. He touched her shoulder. "This will be the last time you wear that pretty dress for a while. You'll soon be in State of California denims. Not much style in them. What a waste to hide your body in a sack."
"Take your hands off me."
His fingers didn't go away. "Relax, sister. Everybody knows about you and Nick. Come on, show me what you did with him. like I said, a little bit of cooperation will do you a lot of..."
Sigrid jabbed back with her elbow, hard, catching Baumgartner squarely in the crotch. His breath came out in a sharp, foul-smelling wheeze as his chin came down to rap against the top of her head. He was doubled over as she twisted, his hands laced over his pouch, his face white with pain.
She watched, calm and detached, as he staggered to the corner of the table and rested on it. He took several breaths before looking up at her. "Bitch!"
"Jailbird, thanks to you," she hissed back. "Just living up to the image the court has drawn of me. You shouldn't be alone with a hardened criminal."
He looked a little sad. "I always thought you had some class. Your background, college, Minnesota ... I thought you might be worth breaking to the saddle."
Her mouth twisted. "You'll never ride me, cowboy, unless you kill me and do it to my dead body."
He shuddered, but he came back smiling again. "Come on, it's our last chance to be friends."
She watched him get behind her again. "Our last chance . ... You're going where there are no men . ... Many long months alone, Sigrid! ... Only other women, perverts who'll try to get at you. ... I'm your last link with the outside...."
His fingers were pressing against her shoulders and then coming around to meet under her chin. "Such a magnificent squandering of talent. You should be somewhere so men can enjoy you in high style. You should be on black satin sheets. Imagine that fair body, that blonde hair, on shining black. God, I want to explode my crotch just thinking about it."
"Think away," she snapped over her shoulder, but she didn't brush away his hands, "because that's as close as you're going to get."
Still, she was motionless as his hands dipped down the front of her dress and snaked inside. He was at the tops of her breasts, kneading the skin. She wasn't without feelings and she felt the worming start in her vitals. This was crazy. She hated Baumgartner and his kind, the kind that had made her take the big fall for Nick.
Something died inside Sigrid at that moment. She didn't care anymore. Let the bastard do as he wanted, for her heart, her vitals had been cut out by Nick's treachery.
His hands went into the V of her dress and soon they were down to the fullness of her mounds. He cupped them and she felt his fingers curl and lift her warm weights. The rattling in his throat was right at her ear, but, although sickened, she was powerless to defend herself.
"Lovely, my dear, simply lovely."
Sigrid merely closed her eyes. She was quite willing.
There was a sound at the door and in that instant she turned her head, caught his ear between her teeth, and bit hard. The blood spurted as the door opened.
A roar of laughter filled the room and Baumgartner jerked free, tearing his ear all the more. She saw the blood running down the side of his neck and into his collar as he groped for a handkerchief.
In the doorway were two deputies, a man and a woman. The man guffawed. "Baumgartner, you son of a bitch. Helping yourself to a free meal before the kitchen closes, I see."
"Why not?" Baumgartner snapped. He stepped away from Sigrid and then struck her across the mouth with the back of his hand. "Get this whore away from me. Lock her up and throw the key into the desert someplace."
"Someplace where you can find it?" the matron asked. She was a sturdy, middle-aged woman with a hairy wart on her cheek.
Baumgartner glared and then stalked from the room, the two parting to let him out. They came inside and around the table to Sigrid. "Time to go," the woman said.
As they marched out the man said into her ear, "What's the matter, you horny since your shack-up's been unavailable?"
"Bad blood, that's what it is," the matron muttered, overhearing the question. "Her kind ought to be put away where they can't polute society."
The deputy guffawed again. "Come on, Blanche, you're just sore because no guy ever offers you any."
The heavy woman glared as they-marched Sigrid along the corridor to the rear of the building. Soon they were locking her in a small cell where she sat on a bench and tried to collect the thoughts that were racing through her head.
It wasn't a very welcome collection, for Sigrid felt deserted by the world. She knew she'd need to get hold of herself, compose her outlook, not let her anger and despair ruin her. If she didn't fight back they'd turn her into a worthless creature who would be dead by the time her sexual attraction had been used up.
In a half hour the matron and the deputy were back. They took her out a rear exit where a panel truck with wired windows waited. Two men lounged against the side, but they got up straight when Sigrid appeared.
"Hey, now."
"Just take her to the county holding center, boys," the deputy reminded them. "I don't want to hear of any delay or detours along the way."
They smirked and winked as they opened the back door and watched Sigrid climb in. It was a deep step and she had to hike up her dress, but they didn't help. The door slammed and she sat on a side bench in semi-darkness as the engine coughed into life and they started off with a jerk.
It looked as though they went all the way across the city before the truck pulled into a lot at the rear of a gray stone building. The truck jerked and Sigrid almost slid off the bench from the sudden stop. The back door opened and one of the men was smiling up at her.
"Come along, sugar. End of the line for today."
She climbed down stiffly. She felt dirty. She'd worn the same dress for several days in court and it was a mess. She hadn't been able to keep herself as clean as she liked. Her hair needed attention.
A man took each of her arms as they marched her toward a door. It seemed they held her more closely than necessary and occasionally they brushed the sides of her breasts or bumped against a hip. Then they were inside and a matron, every bit as ugly as the one in the courthouse, was standing over her. She wore a bulky khaki uniform that had no chance to fit her blocky figure and her fists were on her hips.
"All right, boys, she's all mine from here on," she barked in a rasping voice.
One of the drivers thrust a document under her nose. "Sign for her, Rose, and watch your step, she's a horny bitch. Keep an eye on the deputies. We caught this broad trying to put the make on her lawyer during the post-trial conference."
The matron nodded. "Don't worry, I know her kind." She scribbled something on the paper and the two men withdrew, leaving them alone. "All right, honey, strip down."
Sigrid stared for a moment and then she did as she was told. She slipped from the dress and then her pants, folding them on a bench. Then the matron gave her a soap bar and a rough towel. She led the way into a concrete shower stall and said, "All right, get rid of that smell."
Despite her despondency, Sigrid enjoyed the shower and she scrubbed herself hard, especially where Baumgartner had touched her. She rubbed her body briskly with the towel until her skin glowed. When she was dry she stepped before a cracked mirror and tried to do something with her hair. They'd let her keep a small purse with a few things inside.
The matron returned as Sigrid waited in the room to which she'd been first admitted. "Well, now I can see why a smart apple like Nick Caletti would want something like you," the matron said, her hands back on her hips. "You got a dandy figure, girl. Too bad you don't have a few morals to go with it."
Sigrid didn't bother to defend herself. It wouldn't do any good. She didn't care what this woman, or the other deputies thought. It was what the judge had thought that had done her harm. Now it was too late to protest.
The matron pointed to a pile of clothing. "That stuff belongs to you for the next year, dearie. It's your new spring outfit. Not what they're wearing on Fifth Avenue, but you're not gonna be anywhere near Fifth Avenue, so it won't make a damn."
Sigrid began to dress while the matron studied her every move. During her days in the courthouse Sigrid had heard about the lesbianism that was rampant in the women's prison, and she wondered about the matrons who were around women inmates day and night. Perhaps they, too, became perverted.
She slipped into the coarse pants and brassiere and then she buttoned the khaki shirt. It looked like something left over from the Army. The skirt was also of khaki and it was long and loose. Any sex appeal Sigrid had was effectively hidden under her new clothing.
"All right, now, let's tuck you in for the night. It might be a while before the state comes for you," the matron muttered, going to the door and holding it open.
She led Sigrid along a maze of corridors until they were in a cellblock. She stopped before a barred door. "In here!" She opened the door. "You get a private room, at least for tonight."
As Sigrid went inside the matron chuckled. "Yup, a private room. You'll thank me, lady, for giving you a night to yourself before the wolves tear into you. I hear it's something fierce."
Sigrid listened to the chuckling as the door slammed shut with a terribly final metallic sound.
5
NOTHING MUCH HAPPENED FOR QUITE A WHILE. ANOTHER matron brought her dinner and she spent a restless night on the narrow and hard bed. During the night she thought a great deal about St. Cloud, Los Angeles, Nick and the trial, but she didn't come up with any satisfactory answers.
She wanted to go home, but she knew her feelings for Nick were turning to hate and that the next step would be revenge. Something would need to give her satisfaction before she could turn her back on the whole terrible chapter in her life.
Sigrid thought about other things. It had been weeks since she and Nick had made love, weeks since his hands had roamed her body and started her sexual fires raging. She knew she was in deep need of satisfaction when she'd responded almost at once to Baumgartner's pawing, even though she loathed the ugly man. She would need to be careful. There were those stories about the women in prison....
It was the second night before they came. During the day an occasional jailer came by to peer through the mesh of her cell door. She saw the curiosity and the hunger in their eyes, but she couldn't understand why they looked at her. Certainly they knew her by reputation as Nick Caletti's lover, but in those jail clothes she was anything but a sex symbol.
She looked down at herself. The clothing was bulky, wrinkled, the shoes low-heeled and heavy-like shoes worn by women in the Army, only in poor condition. Someone had come to her cell the day before and cut off much of her hair so that where once it had flowed to her shoulders in a golden cascade, it was now a short boyish bob. Even the color seemed to be growing dull. Her hair feasted on sunlight to help keep it bright.
On the afternoon before the second night two men paused before her door and squinted in at her. She heard them laughing and kidding with one another.
"Look at that, man. Ripe for plucking."
"It's been a while since she was plucked, too. They say Nick was pouring it to her pretty regularly."
"Yes, she must have a hot pussy by now." He raised his voice. "Hey, Johnson, you got an itch in your crotch? You need somebody to scratch it?"
Seated on her bed, Sigrid lifted her head to look at them. She did not answer. It had been some time since she'd had a word for anybody. There was too much to think about before she committed herself. She saw the two pairs of eyes, both about the same height.
"Hey, Johnson."
She blinked. .
"Come over here. We got news for you."
She got up and, hands smoothing the skirt over her thighs, she went to the door to stare through the bars and mesh. "Yes?"
"They say your boy friend's out celebrating. He's free and you took the rap. They say he's picked up another broad already, a big redhead who's even better in the sack than you are. Are you good in the sack?"
Sigrid began to turn away, a look of disgust on her face.
"Seems we insulted her higliness, the whore, Al. Ain't that a goddamned shame?"
"Really terrible," Al replied. "What do you think we ought to do about this broad?"
"I think we'll drop back after taps. When the place quiets down we can have a little party. You hear that, Johnson? Have the booze uncorked because we're coming back."
They left her, laughing their way down the corridor. Sigrid lay back on her bunk, fingers laced behind her head, her big ice-blue eyes staring unblinking at the naked light overhead. The thing burned all night behind the mesh that kept her from smashing the bulb.
At bedtime she removed her skirt and shoes, crawling, under the blanket clad in her pants, brassiere and skirt. They'd given her a fresh bar of soap and she'd washed as best she could at the little sink in the corner of the cell. There was also a tiny toilet with the handles tucked in the wall so that crazy prisoners couldn't break them off. The thing flushed automatically every hour or so.
She lay awake, still thinking, for almost an hour before she rolled to her side, facing the wall, turning her back on the white light. She didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she heard the noise in her dreams . ...
Nick was with her. They were making love and Sigrid was on the verge of an orgasm. Just as she was about to come she opened her eyes to discover that Nick's head had turned to that of a snake. His tongue was long, black and forked and it flicked out at her. She tried to roll away, to keep it from touching her face. His fingers had become claws and they made hard sounds on the sides of their love bed. The scratching became louder and, in her struggle to escape, Sigrid woke up....
The light was bright, her body was steaming with a terrible itching between her legs. She knew the feeling. It was always like that just before she came, but now she wasn't going to come. The fires would slowly die. But there was still the scratching.
She rolled over to see movement outside the cell door. Blanket tucked under her chin, she pretended to be asleep, her eyes slits so that she could peer from under her lashes. Somebody had a key and that was the scratching, the key in the lock. The key was wormed back and forth until there was a decisive click. The door opened slowly.
They were the same two men who had been outside in the afternoon. Al and his dirty friend. They crept inside, not talking, walking on the balls of their feet. One pointed toward the sink and the other went to it, returning with Sigrid's bath towel. He carried it to the door, closing the door and hooking the towel over the bars and mesh so that no one could see inside.
They then came to the side of Sigrid's bed, their eyes wide. "Guess we're all set," one whispered.
"What the hell are we being so quiet about? We fixed it with Jack. Nobody's gonna bother us. No need to let this broad go on with her beauty sleep. Let's roll her out."
"Wait a minute. I got an idea."
While Sigrid watched, pretending to be asleep, he knelt over the bed and began to pull at the blanket. She could see the dark stubble of hair on his chin, see the blackhead on his cheekbone and smell the acrid staleness of his shirt. Hardly the lover she had waited for. The other man was thinner, but his clothing was more neat. He was older and his hair was flecked with gray. He wore glasses that he kept pushing higher on his glistening nose. The visitors were nervous, for all their bravado.
The kneeling man was still working at the blanket. He was pulling it out from under the mattress along the side that looked into the room. He had it loosened from the foot almost to where she had it tucked under her chin. Then he pulled gently until her fingers were loosened and the blanket inched away from her face.
"Hey, good idea, man! Real good idea," the older man breathed. "Let's not disturb the little lady until we have to. She might fuss a bit."
Sigrid continued to control her breathing, working to suck air into her lungs in long, slow breaths, as though in deep and exhausted sleep. Her heart was starting to flutter in fear of the unexpected and her loins were still hot and moist from her near nocturnal orgasm in the arms of Nick. The presence of the two night visitors did nothing to help her relax and cool her body.
She twitched and heard an intake of breath, but then she resumed her deep breathing. The man in the rear touched his partner on the shoulder and whispered, "Keep going. Don't quit now."
He continued to pull the blanket until Sigrid's throat was bare. She felt the cool air creeping down her skin as the blanket slipped away. Then her shoulders were bare and finally the rough material was sliding over her breasts. Even the slight irritation of the blanket passing across her nipples was noticed by her sensitive nipples. They had always been that way. Sigrid could become excited as a child simply by dancing with her breasts against a boy's chest. Her nipples had always betrayed her when she'd wanted to keep cool.
The blanket went to her waist and there was a pause and then a low whistle. "Look at that artillery." She watched the eyes of the kneeling man widen. "What a pair of lungs."
"Yeah, even in a GI brassiere they look like something from a French peep show." The man in the rear licked his lips. "Come on, keep the action rolling. I want to see more."
The blanket moved on and it was dragging across Sigrid's ribs. She moved her belly up and down slowly, in concert with her breasts. What was she trying to prove? she asked herself. Was she hoping that, by pretending to be a deep sleeper, they would go away and leave her alone? That would hardly be the case. They were here on business. Did Sigrid want them to stay or not?
She didn't know ... she told herself . ...
The rough wool was down to her hips and then going over her loins. She felt it being lifted from her knees and then the thing was tossed to. the floor of the cell. She stirred and half rolled to her side before letting her weight roll her to her back once again.
"Jesus, did you see them knockers inside that sling? Man, I gotta see the big picture-all of it."
She was able to look down the length of her body. The twin peaks of her breasts pointed straight up in the antiseptic white cups of her county-issue brassiere. Still, they looked sexy, even to her. Below she could see her ribs and the rise and fall of her belly. Slowly she lifted a knee, as though still squirming in sleep, and looked along the length of her white thigh. Lord, she'd gotten so white sitting in jail. The golden tan had disappeared from her flesh.
Another low whistle. "God, wish I had my Polaroid."
"Why look at pictures when you can see the real thing?"
"I'm thinking about later, when this broad's long gone, and I'll have only my fist and the men's John. A bit of art-in color-would help a lot."
"Hank, you're a goddamned fruitcake, you know?"
"So I'm a fruitcake. So let's keep going. What do we do next?"
"Wake her up?"
"No, not yet. Let me in there to see what I can do."
The kneeling man slid to one side and the other joined him to hover over Sigrid's bed. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed her body like she was a deep-red slice of watermelon on a hot summer day.
He plucked at the waist of her skirt. "This thing's gotta go."
His pal lifted the hem of the skirt, lowering his head at the same time so he could see up Sigrid's thighs. "Yeah, there's a real prize up in there. Let's get rid of it."
Sigrid sighed and casually brushed at her skirt, almost hitting his hand as she rolled in her faked sleep. She lay half on her side, facing them, her hip jutting in the air. It was the hip with the zipper. Accident or deliberate invitation? God damn Hank for leaving her so hot and bothered in her dreams!
Fingers were working at her hip. They got the button open and then the sliding zipper made a small hard sound in the silent room. The skirt peeled away and they pulled.
"The damned thing won't come."
"Her hips. We gotta get them up off the sack so we can slide the whole business."
They worked like a couple of civil engineers, figuring ways to lift Sigrid's hips without waking her. One pulled up, his fingers pressing evenly but firmly into her flesh. The other pulled at the skirt from between her legs until it slipped from under her buttocks. They got it down to her knees and paused to admire the view.
"Man, white pants. Think how she'd look in black lacy ones from a boutique. I'd go off just looking at the things."
"I'm damned near going off now. Let's get going before I waste it on my shorts."
They got the skirt off and tossed it aside. Then they performed their engineering feat on Sigrid's shoulders, easing her up so they could loosen her brassiere clasp at the rear and ease the straps down over her arms. They took the bra away and gasped at her breasts.
"Christ, nipples like pink cookies, like frosting on a cake. Just as sweet, too, I'll bet."
"Look at her pants, right over the pussy."
Their faces came close. "Goddamn, a wet spot. You suppose she's dreaming this is happening and we're getting her all worked up? Wouldn't that be a gas if she had a wet dream?
"Yeah, a real blast. Al, we don't wanna waste a drop of her come or ours. Let's keep moving."
They began to roll Sigrid's pants, working the cotton over her hips. Her belly button gave them a moment's pause as they gazed into its heaving depths. Then they went on. "I see she's a real blonde."
"Sure, Jan already told me that from this afternoon when she was taking a bath. Nothing fake about this broad, except the way she pretends to be insulted when you give her the finger."
The pants were removed, sliding down Sigrid's thighs with an irritating tickle. She felt each foot being lifted from the mattress to ease the passage of her last garment. Then they both stood over the love altar.
"Hey, Hank, ain't that something?"
"Sure, Al. Ready to take a ride?"
"How will we start?"
"Like we did it in high school, I suppose. Feel her up real good until she's so hot she wouldn't yell if she set the bed on fire."
Al licked his lips and coughed into his hand. "Move in, buddy. This is the last act."
They dropped to their knees over Sigrid's bed, their eyes bugging, their fingers claws unsheathed.
6
SIGRID FROWNED, HER EYES STILL CLOSED. WHAT SORT of strange game was she playing with these men? It was time to end it, whatever it was. She had to summon what traces of pride she had remaining and fight them off.
She opened her eyes and the two deputies pulled back as though she had struck them.
"Hey, she's awake," the thin deputy with bad teeth, the one called Al, wheezed.
"How about that?" Hank replied. He was fat and he smelled worse than ever.
They were both behaving as though Sigrid had been in a coma and they were surprised to see her come out of it.
"What are you doing here?" Sigrid said, putting her hands over her face as she yawned. Then she looked down at herself and in a second she rolled into a ball, her back turned to them. "Get out. I ... I don't know what's going on, but I'll scream if you touch me."
"No way, baby," Al rasped. "There ain't nobody gonna hear or see a thing. You might as well turn around and cooperate, because we're gonna get what we came after. Right, Hank?"
"Can the names, pal. She might remember."
"Remember what? We weren't here. Where would she find any witnesses? And, without witnesses, who in hell's world would believe anything this slut has to say?"
Hank guffawed. "Guess you're right, Al. You're always right. Remember that redhead in the south wing that time?"
"She was nothing like this broad. Come on, Johnson, over on your back. Loosen up for the troops."
Sigrid didn't move. She felt her body shaking and she hated the thought of them looking at her buttocks. Still, she'd brought it on herself with her sick game. She'd wanted them to look at her, to handle her. Now it was too late to get out of it-unless she had luck that no prisoner with her reputation could ever summon.
A hand clapped on her rump with a loud slap. The two men laughed. "Look at that quiver. like a thick chunk of rubber. Bet she's like that all over."
They grasped her shoulder and pulled her around to her back. At once the fat smelly deputy lunged at her breasts, sinking his fingers in deeply. Sigrid fought him off and then she managed to sit up, her arms whirling before her as she swung hard at them.
"Hey, see the spitfire fight back," one shouted.
They fell back as Sigrid got up. She took a step toward them and they fell on her like jackals. Each lunged for an arm and before she could land a solid blow they held her at elbows and wrists.
She squirmed, twisted her body and kicked out. Her heel caught the thin deputy in the groin and he let go, bending over in pain. The fat one held on and caught her free arm, finally trapping her hands behind her. He snapped handcuffs into place.
The thin man lunged at her and his fist went into her belly. Sigrid now bent over and his knee came up under her chin to straighten her fast. She cried out and fell back on the narrow bed. They were after her.
The little fat man was pawing her breasts, fondling them as he dug his thumbs into her nipples. She cried out again, knowing in her heart that there was no one to hear. Nobody would ever hear her calls for mercy again. Her life had been blotted out the moment the police had come through the door to her apartment.
The thin deputy was pulling at her knees, trying to force them apart. She clamped them together and held them that way until he began to beat her in the stomach.
"Spread them, you big bitch. Spread them or I'll cut your legs off and beat you with the stumps."
Sigrid's strength was going fast. She hadn't slept or eaten well in weeks, she'd had no exercise-sexual or otherwise-and her body was not what it had been earlier. Finally, with a gasp of despair, she allowed him to pry her thighs open. He shot his hands inside, snaking them up the insides of her thighs and then plunging into her blonde nest.
He was pinching her lips, his fingers twisting her most precious flesh painfully. The fat man was down on her breasts now, taking first one nipple and then the other between his lips. He bit hard and she was certain he was tasting her blood.
"God, leave me alone!" Sigrid wailed.
"Not on your life, baby," the thin man snapped, ramming a fist against her loins.
She could feel her body respond. It had to. No woman could have her body worked over in such intimate fashion and not allow her juices to begin flowing. She wanted to turn them off but it wasn't possible. These two were experts. From their talk, they had raped before with satisfactory results.
"Hey, this broad's starting to come around."
"Sure, they always do. Scratch a imagine blonde and you'll uncover a slut every time."
Their hands were probing everywhere-in her face, her breasts, her vagina, her buttocks, under her arms. There was no place they didn't violate. She was still struggling, even as her body heat rose. She would fight them until her strength gave out completely, and that time wasn't far off.
She shot her knee up and hit the thin deputy in the chest. He reeled back and then staggered over, slapping her hips and thudding a fist into Sigrid's belly. She gasped as the air went out of her and for a few seconds her strength was drained.
"Take that, sweetheart. You're a tough one, I'll grant you that, but you'll play ball."
The deputies seemed to get the idea at the same time. "Sure, play ball. Balls! Our balls!"
While the thin man continued to thrust his hands into Sigrid's vagina, the other man dropped his trousers and with them went his shorts. As the hands wormed between her lips and up into her body, she watched the tubby man's penis slip into view. It was only semi-rigid, despite his long period of foreplay.
He saw her looking and he flushed. "All right, so it ain't the Washington Monument. It's good enough for me, and for most broads. I know how to use it. You'll see."
The thin man rolled Sigrid to her side and thrust a key against her handcuffs. They sprang open and she lashed out, a cuff still on one wrist. The loose cuff hit the thin man in the temple and he reeled back, sitting down hard on the concrete floor.
The thin man blinked, first at Sigrid and then at his pal. "She doesn't fuck around, buddy."
"Come on," the fat, smelly man muttered. "Get off your ass and work her over. I want those hands on my cock and balls, and I mean right now."
The fallen deputy got up and sat on the side of Sigrid's bunk. He grasped a breast and squeezed until Sigrid screamed. "Hurts, don't it? You play ball with my friend Hank or I'll pull that tit out by the roots, you hear?"
Sigrid ground her teeth as he tightened his grip again. At last she nodded, her eyes spitting hate. Yes, she hated them now, more than her body wanted sexual satisfaction.
Hank was squatting by the bunk, pointing at his groin. "Take it, sugar. Take it and play games with it. Start with the balls and work your way up to the cock. I just may let you blow me before it's over. Ain't you the lucky one, though?"
Sigrid swallowed and blinked up at Al, who tightened his grip on her breast. The nipple was screaming in pain and she was afraid of permanent marks. She extended her hand and it hovered just below his cock. Below, his luggage hung in a hairy and smelling mass. She couldn't touch that festering pouch, not if they killed her.
Her extended arm swung up, cuff dangling, and again she caught Al in the side of the head. This time he went down hard, his head bouncing against the wall before he slid to the floor. The little deputy stared at his partner as though seeing a ghost. Then he pulled up his pants.
"Jesus, you killed him."
"I doubt that. But you'd better get him out of here, if he dies in my cell you're going to have a lot of explaining on your hands."
"Dies!"
Sigrid shrugged at him.
Hank hauled the groaning deputy to his feet and they staggered to the door. Sigrid watched from her bed as the little man fumbled the door open and pulled his buddy through. It snapped shut with a sound that told her he hadn't forgotten to shoot the lock home.
She lay quietly, feeling the pain in her body, for several minutes. Her breasts ached as much from desire as from their grasping hands and lips. Her crotch was pulsating as much from the need for Nick's penis as from the fist that had slammed into its depths.
She moved her buttocks back and forth, tested her arms and legs and then lifted her head. Nothing was really hurt-except her psyche. She'd let them do almost as they wished, until the very end. If they didn't understand her game, it was a fact that Sigrid didn't either. She'd changed her mind, that was all, and a woman had a right to change her mind.
Still ... she'd need to decide whether she was able to submerge her passions for the straight life, or whether she'd go completely wanton. She was certain that, even in prison, the choice was hers. She would need to summon every ounce of her pride to fight them off. Perhaps she'd won the first round-or at least won a draw-but there would be others. She wasn't so naive that she didn't realize the stories she'd heard the past few weeks were true.
That shifting of her buttocks. It had made her nerves take notice. She wiggled her bottom against the rough mattress again. Yes, she felt it a second time. It had been so long since Nick's servicing. God, was that how she thought of it? Servicing? Apparently.
She rolled to her side and felt one of her buttocks. It was warm and her flesh was still moist from her struggles. The touch of her own hand felt good. Thoughtfully, she massaged the cheek and then its twin. Yes, she was turning on. Lord, but she needed attention so badly-but not from those two crumbs who'd tried to rape her. Not yet, anyhow.
She lay on her back again, staring up at the ceiling. There was a crack that ran out from the corner to the light fixture in the center of the tiny room. It looked like a meandering river as viewed from a jet at thirty thousand feet.
She touched her knees and then ran her fingers up her thighs. God ... God, but that was awfully good. Sig, old girl, you're about to make yourself. Her hands rested on the front of her legs but in a few moments they slipped around inside. Yes, how wonderful.
She hoped she wasn't thinking straight, that she was still so upset from the attempted rape that her mind had temporarily snapped. That would help make what she wanted to do to herself easier to live with.
Her fingers toyed with her delicate skin just below the gates of her vagina. She snaked up an inch and plucked at her hairs. They sent messages that tingled all through her body. She loved it. A new toy. Oh, if only Nick were here . ...
She wondered what would happen if Nick were in the cell with her. Would she try to kill him? Would she throw herself at his feet? She'd need to make up her mind about him. Something still wouldn't believe that he had betrayed her. Perhaps it was the portion of her brain that was trying to keep Sigrid from going insane. It wouldn't admit that he wasn't going to ride up at the eleventh hour and save her from prison. Perhaps he had some trick that he hadn't been able to tell her about.
She placed her hand over her cunt and pressed into the bush. She let a finger worm. No, that wasn't right. Abruptly, Sigrid sat up and swung her bare feet to the floor. It was cold so she stepped into her shoes. They were still cold, but not that penetrating concrete kind of cold.
At the head of the bed there was a tiny table that was chained to a pipe that poked from the wall, so berserk inmates couldn't throw the furniture at a deputy. She opened the top drawer. Nothing but a Bible. She looked into the second drawer. Surely they'd need one. The power supply couldn't be that dependable in such an old building.
There it was. She took out the candle. Luckily, it wasn't a three-inch stub, but a healthy thing almost a foot long. She carried it back to her bed and again she lay on her back. At once she placed it against her cunt and, holding it in both hands, she pushed with a very slow but firm thrust. The candle slid into her vagina and she felt her lips suck around it before spreading to allow its passage.
"Yes...." She was surprised that she spoke aloud. Surely she was slightly out of her mind.
She pushed and the candle sank deeper. Soon it was almost halfway into her body and she loved the waxy feeling as the walls of her vaginal canal pressed around it. The walls were like a throng of people welcoming a homecoming hero as they surged forward with cries of joy.
She also cried out. Then she put a fist over her mouth and bit it, but the other hand kept pushing. Soon the candle was two-thirds of the way into her body and she came up against the base of her womb. She paused, knowing there was no need to wait. The thing wasn't going to shoot for her. It wasn't alive. It wasn't Nick's wonderful cock.
She moved her hips and the candle shifted. Slowly, she flexed the cheeks of her buttocks and the candle was thrust a fraction of an inch deeper. She flexed again and then she braced her toes against the iron at the foot of the bed so she could get sound traction.
Her hips came off the mattress and then she eased them down so that the candle was pushed hard into her and then allowed to slip out a few inches. She did it again ... and then again ... and still again. There. Now she had the rhythm. It wasn't as good as that last time with Nick on the floor of her apartment, but it was all she had.
She worked steadily for several minutes. Even though she was boiling hot, a candle couldn't do it to her like a human penis. She had to put all her concentration into the act before she felt the stirring in the pit of her belly. She kthrust on, again and again, grunting with the effort. She hoped her powerful body wouldn't snap the candle before she was finished.
The worming in her vitals became strong and then her vaginal walls were convulsing with her orgasm. She heaved and gasped, loving the blind joy of the awful thing she was doing. She thrust the candle and clutched it with both hands until she was finished expending herself.
Then she sank back on the mattress, hot and sweaty, even in the cold room. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut for several minutes before she opened them, looked down at the horrible red stick of wax poking into the air from her loins, and then hurled the candle across the room. It thudded against the door.
Sigrid moaned and shivered. She sat up and pulled on her clothing and then she lay down again, spreading the blanket over her and tucking it under her chin.
She closed her eyes and wished they'd put out that terrible light that burned night and day. She wanted it out so she wouldn't need to see herself. She didn't want to see any part of her ugly, sinful body.
THEY CAME FOR HER THE NEXT MORNING. SIGRID HAD been careful to clean herself up as best she could and she'd put the candle back in its drawer. There was a rattle of keys and locks as her door swung open and two matrons, each looking like a running guard for the Green Bay Packers, beckoned to her.
Sigrid was led out to the jail office where there was a great deal of paper signing and stamping and passing back and forth. She felt like a cargo of potash being consigned to a railroad car. Eventually the man behind the desk gave her a final insulting look and she was led out to the rear.
There was a car and two people to take her to the state prison. A male and female deputy, each wearing state uniforms and the Desert Slope Correction Facility patch on the upper right arm.
Sigrid was told to get into the front seat, the man closing her door. A lock flicked and she knew she wouldn't be able to open the door from the inside. Behind her there was a heavy screen and the matron sat back there. The man got behind the wheel and they started on their way. It would be almost a hundred miles to the edge of the desert. As they swung into a boulevard heavy with going-to-work traffic Sigrid sniffed. "Why all the security? You think I'm going to spring out of here and rape and loot the city?"
The driver looked at her and his eyes dropped to her lap. She knew what he was thinking. They all thought the same thing. She shouldn't have mentioned rape.
"Don't knock it," he muttered. He was a young man with straight black hair and large eyes. "Sybil has to sit in the back because the fumes in front make her sick, otherwise you'd be back there alone. As it is, she didn't want to be behind the screen with you, so it's you and me up here with a nice long ride and a beautiful view."
Sigrid rolled her eyes. "Turn off the violins and send the wine back to the kitchen. This is about as romantic as a walk to the gas chamber."
Sybil, a small thin woman younger than Sigrid, leaned forward in the back. "Desert Slope isn't so bad. It's a lot better than most, I can tell you."
Sigrid looked over her shoulder at the frail thing. She looked as though she rarely saw the sun. "It isn't so bad from your end of the pipe, I don't suppose. It isn't so bad when you can take off for sixteen hours a day and live outside the wall."
"We have no walls."
"I've heard about them. Electronic walls," Sigrid snapped. "Step across them and zap, a police dog takes your leg off."
She knew she was talking like a hardened criminal but in the past weeks she'd learned a great deal about prison life. Even though she was free at night, she'd spent enough time in cells and around other prisoners to get the word. It spread fast.
The driver was still looking her over. She felt his eyes slide over her baggy shirt and skirt. She looked down, too, seeing that the shirt was pulled tightly across her breasts as she twisted in the seat. Her skirt had hiked up high, a long way up on her thighs.
She looked him in the eye and he blinked. He wasn't sure about her. "Do you miss Nick Caletti?"
The question surprised her and she thought before replying, "Sure, I do. Why not? But he's been busy trying to get me out. In fact, I'll probably spend less than a week with you folks before the governor delivers my pardon in person."
He laughed as he reached in his jacket and fished out a package of cigarettes. He put one between his lips, hesitated, and then offered her the pack. She took out a cigarette and handed it back, but he shook his head. "Keep them. It may be a while before you get issued some. You've got to earn a little account money before they'll let you buy behind the wall."
"Thanks." So he was trying the soft approach.
"Sybil will probably get sick because we're smoking, but her belly's her problem, not ours."
"Come on, Roy," Sybil whined. "You know about my ulcer. I can't keep anything down when I have to put up with the car and cigarettes."
Roy merely smiled and lighted Sigrid with a battered Zippo. She inhaled and rested her head on the back of the seat. God, it was almost like being out. She'd need to enjoy it while she could.
They were still in the Los Angeles city limits when his hand came snaking across the seat. He stopped at her thigh and began to pluck at the hem of her skirt, lifting it inch by inch. Sigrid watched as though she were a spectator in a drama that didn't involve her in the least.
He worked the hem up and then his fingers were on her flesh. He slid them higher until they were high on her thigh, not very far from the first sparse hairs of her pubic forest.
Then Sigrid looked him in the eye. "Are all you deputies this horny? Can't any of you find satisfaction with someone other than a prisoner who's at your mercy?"
The driver's hand froze, the car almost swerving from the freeway as he fought to control it with one hand. He didn't want to give up his advantage. "What's that supposed to mean?" he rasped, but he was flushing down into his collar.
Sybil was leaning forward to frown at him. "What's going on, Roy? She messing around ... trying to get out of the car?"
"Don't worry," he snapped over his shoulder, "I can handle her okay." He rubbed his nose. "Sit back and relax. Close your eyes so you won't get sick like you did the way into the city."
"I wish you wouldn't keep bringing it up," Sybil whined.
But she sat back and closed her eyes, Roy watching her and then looking at Sigrid as though they'd been left alone in their honeymoon suite by the bellboy. "She'll be all right. Not very bright, you know?"
Sigrid shrugged and his eyes dropped again. Then his fingers came back to life and he was creeping around to the inside of her thigh. He shoved until she felt her hairs being tickled. Then his thumb hit damp, tender folds of flesh.
"End of the line, buster," she hissed quietly.
"Come on, loosen up."
She snapped her forefinger hard against the back of his hand and he jerked it away, wincing. "What makes you so high and mighty? I heard about you and Caletti. You were his current shack. You must know all the games after being with that bird."
"I'm fussy who I play with," she continued. "Get your hands away or I'll report you to the warden when we get to the Sunday School."
He smiled. "Won't do any good. Tomorrow's my last day. I'm quitting."
"Not getting enough from the prisoners, I suppose."
He stuck out his tongue at her as a child would. "Nope. Going back home to Indiana. Got a job with the state there. Same deal, only more money. Screw California."
Sigrid felt just a trifle sad. Despite his hands, Roy hadn't been a bad guy. After all, he'd been careful not to rough her up, he'd quit pawing when she'd complained and he'd given her the better part of a pack of Kents. The woman in the back seat was much less interesting. She was a whining nothing.
Presently they were in what passes for open country in Southern California. Almost to Riverside, they zipped through a number of open fields rich with some grain crop that looked familiar to Sigrid from her Minnesota experiences. But she couldn't think of the names.
Through Riverside they crossed the pass and started down toward the desert. While they were still high the car turned on an off ramp and they drove under the highway to a few miles north, into a high, rocky valley with a few scattered farms and ranches.
Then she saw it. It looked like a bastard Spanish-style mission. There was a scattering of buildings with red tile roofs and white stucco walls. There were trees and grass. But there were also guards and those corner posts with their invisible beams that would spread the alarm if broken.
"Welcome to Desert Slope," the driver said, waving his hand grandly as they closed on the facility. There was clear ground all around and apparently only the one road into the valley. Escape would be a lot tougher than it seemed.
The car pulled up before a small guard station just outside the line of electronic posts. The deputy leaned out and handed a manifest-like form to the guard who stepped out into the brilliant sunshine. The guard rattled the papers and then looked in, squinting at Sigrid.
"She keep calm all the way?"
Roy nodded. "Too damned calm."
The other guard stepped back with a laugh, waving his arm. Sigrid saw him flip a toggle as they drove across the barrier. Apparently he was cutting off the alarm current as they passed inside the compound.
The car pulled up before a large stucco building that looked like an Army barracks, except that it was more permanent with its tile roof and the landscaping. The driver switched off the engine and rested his hands on the wheel.
"This is it. So long and good luck."
"The same to you back in Iowa...."
"Indiana...."
"Indiana," Sigrid continued, "and thanks for the butts."
"You've mastered all the jargon, haven't you? Turning yourself into a tough jailhouse cookie already." He seemed interested, like a scientist following a test-tube experiment.
"It's the only way to survive," she snapped as Sybil was getting out of the back. She pulled the handle and Sigrid's door opened. She stepped stiffly into the sun, blinking about her.
There were a number of women about now, all dressed in their prison khakis. Some were raking the grass to rid it of desert debris. Others were ambling along paths from one building to another. A few were carrying stacks of cloth of the type that would be used in clothing. Probably, Sigrid mused, there was a mill of some sort on the grounds.
"Good luck, Miss Johnson."
She turned, startled at what sounded like kind word. She hadn't been called "Miss Johnson" since the trial. It was the driver saying good-bye.
"You're leaving now?" she asked.
He nodded. "Sybil will take you and your papers inside. I'm going to check out with the warden's office and tomorrow I'm off like a bird." He grinned. "See you around."
She watched him hurry toward a small stucco building with the ever-present tile roof. She hoped that the other security people were as nice as Roy-despite his groping hands.
"Come along." It was Sybil, sniffing and being officious. "Time to get inside. Bucholtz will be waiting."
"Bucholtz?"
"You'll meet her soon enough ... in person."
They went up the walk into the building. There was a long corridor with doors leading from it. Very much like a youth hostel in Europe. At the near end one of the doors was marked "Office" and Sybil knocked.
The answer was a grunt and Sybil opened the door. She motioned Sigrid ahead of her. Inside it was a small room with a desk, a couch and a couple of chairs. Gray files lined one wall and a window looked out on the center of the compound.
Behind the desk sat a woman. At least, Sigrid supposed it was a woman. The figure was stocky, heavy, fortyish and dressed in a khaki uniform of a much better quality than that she herself wore. The figure was at least as tall as Sigrid and undoubtedly twenty pounds heavier. Very little of the weight seemed to be fat. All muscle, breasts, thick neck, large head and-she saw when the figure stood-hips and thighs.
"Hello, Bucholtz," Sybil murmured and Sigrid could hear a vague trembling in her voice. "Another candidate for your college." She angled her chin toward Sigrid.
The woman called Bucholtz nodded. "Sigrid Johnson, no doubt. You're late."
"Roy didn't hurry," Sybil explained.
"I'll bet he didn't." The big woman came around the desk and, before Sigrid could react, she snapped her finger against her left breast. "I'll bet these helped Roy take his time, eh? Do a little fiddling along the way, did he?"
Sybil looked honestly surprised. "Not that I saw, he didn't."
Bucholtz looked down her large nose at Sybil. "I'll bet you didn't. Busy throwing up in the back seat."
"I got along just fine."
The husky matron sniffed. "All right, give me the shipping orders and get out of my sight."
Sybil handed over the papers. Bucholtz signed several colored sheets and handed them back. Sybil tucked them into her blouse pocket and then she looked at Sigrid. "Behave yourself and you'll be out in a lot less than a year."
"Shut up and beat it," the matron snapped. Sybil fled as if she'd been scalded. The woman looked at Sigrid, her eyes roaming up and down in the look Sigrid had seen so many times lately. "I don't look for you to be out in less than your twelve months, cookie. We don't get meat as tender as you in here very often. In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you get into a lot of trouble and we had to keep you on over your time."
Sigrid lifted her chin, still clutching her small bag of personal belongings. "I don't intend to get into any trouble, to make any trouble, or even to see any trouble."
Bucholtz stepped forward until she was toe to toe with Sigrid, as friendly as a Marine Corps boot camp instructor. "What you intend to happen and what happens are two different things. You just do as I tell you and I'll see you don't get marked up too bad." She chucked Sigrid under the chin. "Be a shame to spoil that pretty skin."
Sigrid tried to pull away but the woman's hand came up like a snake's head to clamp her behind the neck and hold her head steady. "Easy, doll. Nobody pulls away from old Fanny. Just you remember that. Your soul may belong to Jesus, but for the next year your ass belongs to me." Sigrid, still stiff, stopped struggling. Bucholtz took her hand away and she walked around Sigrid. "Drop your bag." Sigrid dropped it. "Pull up your skirt." Sigrid frowned. "No!"
She felt a stunning blow from behind. It was a second or so before she realized that Fanny had delivered a kick to her backside. She lifted her skirt.
"Higher."
Sigrid lifted until her prison issue pants came into view. Then she dropped her skirt.
"I figured them legs were good all the way up. Yup, I'll be able to fill many a long and lonely evening with you, sweetheart."
Sigrid suspected, but she wasn't sure. "Doing what?"
Fanny roared and slapped her thigh. "I'm not talking about pulling taffy, honey. Something a lot more fun than that. Oh, you won't want to play at first, but you'll come around. They all do when they find out what's good for them."
Sigrid swallowed.
"Well, that's it for the class orientation. You'll get an official welcome from old man Maples later. That's when you'll need to watch out for hands, girlie. He's got the fastest hands in the West. Let's go bunk you down."
Sigrid stood aside as Fanny opened the door and led the way into the hall. They walked down the corridor and Sigrid saw that many of the doors were open and the rooms empty. Fanny waved. "Middle of the day. My girls are out working. We're one of them progressive places where they keep busy all day. Supposed to be learning a trade and all that crap. Only trade most of 'em will have when they get out they can practice on their backs." She laughed and slapped her thigh again.
She stopped at a room midway down the hall and opened a door. "Never locked," she announced, rattling the knob. "We use the honor system, unless you try to get through that fence. This is a new place designed for one girl to a room. The board of corrections wants to try privacy and pride as a way to bring you girls back from your shining ways. But it won't work. Already we're beginning to get crowded and pretty soon we'll be doubling up. You'll see. The taxpayers won't stand for private room coddling. Not with times the way they are."
Sigrid looked around the room. There was a single bed, the usual wall toilet and sink, a dresser, a chest at the foot of the bed and a straight chair. A small closet stood in a rear wall. It wasn't much, but it was all hers. On the locker at the foot of the bed was a small battered radio.
"This is it," Fanny said, waving her arms. "I'll be around now and again after lights out to make sure you're nice and comfy."
Sigrid dropped her small bag on the bed and stretched. "I'd like to rest now."
Fanny shook her head. "Screw that noise. Maples is looking forward to seeing you. He's seen your picture in the papers and already he's drooling."
8
SIGRID WAS LED ACROSS THE COMPOUND. OTHERS WERE taking notice of her' by now and she sensed, rather than heard, the murmur of interest as they made their way toward the warden's office.
Heads were lifted from garden plots, from brooms being pushed along walks, from open windows that looked into offices-and out of offices. The clerks would stop their typing as Sigrid passed and then the clacking would resume.
"See? My girls know style when they see it," Fanny Bucholtz muttered as she walked a pace ahead of her charge. "You'll be much too popular around here to be let off before your time."
Sigrid frowned in the strong sunlight. "I don't intend to get into trouble. I want my time cut short. They said I could do it in seven months with luck. Believe me, I have good reasons for wanting to get out."
Fanny looked back at her as Sigrid walked, her eyes lowered, watching Fanny's heavy bottom twitch back and forth. "You talking about that boy friend? I understand he helped them stick it to you pretty good. You after revenge?"
Sigrid scratched the side of her nose. "Yes, for more reasons than you know. You see, I'm innocent."
"Sure you are. Look around you, honey. We got two hundred girls in this place, not a one of them ever did anything worse than cop a dime from the church collection plate."
"You don't believe me."
Bucholtz turned as they were about to enter what she'd called the administration building. "Look, I believe in the law, honey. Not the kind of law that's unfair. Not the kind that's just. I believe in the law as we practice it here at Desert Slope. You'll get to know what I'm talking about."
They stepped into the small building. It was new and j, cooled by air conditioning so that Sigrid hugged her elbows in the chilly, damp blast that met them.
Fanny paused before a desk just inside the door. A small, dark girl was seated behind the desk, filing her nails and chewing gum. She looked like all the prison molls in all the grade B movies Sigrid had ever seen since she was a kid. She glanced up and her eyes slid over Sigrid's figure. Then she went back to filing.
Fanny was around the desk fast as a cat, catching the girl by the back of her prison blouse collar and hauling her to her feet. "Mind your manners, you skinny bitch. How many times do I have to tell you to snap to when I show up in a room? Once more and you're gonna get it."
Even Sigrid winced as the matron whipped the back of her hand across the small girl's face. The punch caught her on the side of the neck, just under her ear, and Sigrid saw the spot turn red. The girl staggered against the desk and began to rub the spot.
"I forgot," she whined. "You didn't tell me you was gonna show up with a new one like this. Jeez, Fanny, she's prize stuff. Can't we make a deal?"
"Shut up," Fanny growled. "And to you I'm Miss Bucholtz until I tell you different. One more slip and I'm going to throw you into solitary and swallow the key." She cocked an eye at Sigrid. "She is choice quality, though, I'll admit that. But you don't get none because you're too dumb to appreciate the finer things. Is Maples inside?" She hooked her thumb toward the interior of the building.
The girl nodded evenly, her lips compressed into a thin line of hate and fear.
Fanny took Sigrid's arm and they marched down the corridor until they reached a door that indicated it was the warden's office. Fanny knocked, waited until there was a sound from inside, and then she opened the door. She marched in and Sigrid followed.
He was behind his desk, fingertips pressed together as he leaned back in his big leather chair. Warden Warren Maples was staring out a large window that looked across the grounds of Desert Slope. From the window one could see almost every building and the approach road, so that little could escape the view from the warden's office.
"Here she is," Fanny muttered at last. Sigrid noticed that there was little deference in her tone. Indeed, there might have been slight contempt.
Slowly, the warden wheeled in his chair. His eyes flicked up to Sigrid, ignoring Fanny. He wasn't a large man, hardly taller than Sigrid, and he had a bland almost kindly face. His bland look was emphasized by rimless glasses, thinning hair that was without definite color and a brown suit that would be easy to lose in a crowd. His hands were terribly white and the nails were neat, somehow reminding Sigrid of the hands of a mortician.
His voice was equally bland, as though he were reading from an English grammar text. "So, our Miss Johnson has arrived. Welcome to Desert Slope."
He got up and came around the desk, his eyes shooting up and down Sigrid's body. She felt naked. "My, my," the warden said, licking his lips as he peered across at Fanny.
"Yeah, that's what I said," the matron replied.
Maples leaned back against the desk, his arms folded. "Bucholtz, I don't want any of your people having relations with this inmate. I hope you understand."
Fanny snorted in an abortive laugh. "What's wrong, you afraid she's a virgin? There's plenty for everybody, warden. You'll get your share."
"I don't want her touched." He put more strength into his voice.
Sigrid lifted her chin. She was tired of being treated like property to be handled by anyone with the means of possession. "Nobody's going to touch me," she intoned.
They looked at her as though they hadn't heard correctly and then they looked at each other. "A maverick, Miss Bucholtz?"
"Looks that way, warden."
"How convenient. It seems she'll be with us for the full term. I imagine that will be a comfortable arrangement." He licked his lips again and cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should visit my inner office right now."
Fanny shook her head. "You know that's bad. She's still spooked. like a mare, she's got to be broke for the saddle." She grinned. "Unless you want your eyes clawed out."
"No." He shook his head. "I suppose a period of adjustment is in order.
Nevertheless, he straightened before Sigrid and his hand touched her face, until Sigrid brushed it away. "My, so hostile. Tell me, Fanny, is that all Miss Johnson inside that uniform?"
"Find out for yourself."
"If you'll be so kind," he muttered to Fanny.
At once Sigrid was in a trap. Fanny caught her right arm and twisted up behind her back so that her hand was up between her shoulders. The pain shot through her body and she cried out, waving her free arm around.
"Keep that arm still!" Fanny growled into her ear from her position just behind Sigrid. "Keep it still or I'll break this one off and beat you over the head with it."
Sigrid froze and the pain lessened. "That's a good girl-Maples touched her cheek again and his hand dropped to her throat. Casually, he began to unbutton her blouse until it was open to her waist. He spread the garment and examined the fully stuffed brassiere. Sigrid's breasts were heaving in her pain and they threatened to pop out of the bra.
"It's real."
"They're real," Fanny corrected. "Kind of perfect, aren't they?"
The warden was licking his lips again. Then he put his hand into the top of the brassiere. Sigrid couldn't help herself as her arm came up and, once again, she clouted someone on the side of the head. Maples reeled back, hand to his cheek, and Fanny's grip tightened until Sigrid felt herself begin to faint.
"Hold it!" Maples shouted to Fanny and the pain was eased. "I don't want her keeling over in here. like you say, she's simply upset. A program of orientation should work wonders."
While Fanny held on, Maples confronted Sigrid again and this time he planted his fist in the pit of her belly. Sigrid gasped and doubled over, the air going out in a rush. God, how many times would she be beaten this way before her year was over? She staggered upright and glared at the warden.
He drew back his fist again, thought of something, and lowered his arm with a shrug. "Oh, well, no need to bruise the merchandise. Take her back. I'll see her later."
Fanny nodded, but before they could move away, Maples made Sigrid's arrival for a period of confinement official. "You are now an inmate of the State Women's Correction Facility at Desert Slope, California," he intoned, "and you will obey all the rules and regulations pertaining thereto. Familiarize yourself with these rules that are posted inside every building. Breaking these rules extends your period of confinement. In due time you will be tested and assigned certain duties. Proper performance of these duties assures satisfactory rehabilitation in the state's campaign to return you to society as a useful citizen."
Sigrid blinked.
"All right, Fanny. Take her away. I'll let you know when I want to meet with her for a full orientation." He allowed a faint smile to creep across his reddened mouth.
Bucholtz led her from the office and in the corridor she paused. "That was dumb, Johnson. Real dumb. You ever give me any backhand that way and I'll break you in half and stuff you down the disposal unit. You dig, baby?"
Sigrid said nothing.
"That's better. Now come along."
She led Sigrid past the small dark girl and outside. They returned to the dormitory and when they were back inside Fanny's office Sigrid heard the door bolt snap home. She waited until Fanny planted herself before her and an instant before she was going to start fighting back again something snapped in her heart.
Her eyes filled and she put her hands up to her face. She couldn't fight them all. There were too many of them and they'd wind up killing her or, at the very least, making her spend her life in prison. She had at least a year of this to face and it wouldn't do any good to resist.
Her shoulders shook and her dry sobs filled the small room. Then Fanny's hands were on her shoulders. "I figured you'd crack in a hurry, honey. You're big but that don't make you tough. You got to have a record as long as your arm before you really toughen up. Hell, you're just a kid in the game of being a female con. You haven't been anywhere."
"Oh!..." Sigrid sobbed. "I'm so alone."
Suddenly tender, Fanny led Sigrid to a small couch and helped her to sit. She sat at her side and her arm slipped around Sigrid's shoulders, soft words spilling from her large mouth all the while.
"Don't you worry, honey. Old Fanny's gonna see that you get treated right. Don't you worry about Maples or any of the others. Anybody treats you wrong without my knowing it, they're going to answer to Fanny Bucholtz. I'm the queen on this hive and everybody knows it."
Sigrid's eyes rolled but she was powerless to pull herself from the older woman's grasp. She felt the hands creep up her arms and then cup her face. Her head was turned toward Fanny and then the matron's face came close. It was terrible. A heavy, coarse face with large pores and blackheads at the corners of the nose. The eyes were close together and small. The hair was flecked with dandruff and the hands smelled of some strong cleaning solution!
Sigrid shuddered.
"Aw, don't be afraid."
A hand was on her thigh and it was placed directly on her crotch. The fingers came to life and wormed against her pubic mound. She could feel each twitch of the matron's hand as it wormed into her. Her skirt was being hiked up and Fanny's foul breath grew heavier.
Sigrid squirmed but her movements only permitted the larger woman to get her hand more deeply between her legs. Soon she was reacting, much as she hated the thought. Her body was alive and it was in need, so that Sigrid was no longer in command of her senses.
"No...."
"Easy, honey."
Tears filled her eyes again and then they rolled down her cheeks. They were splashing down the front of her blouse as Fanny clucked at her. But the hand was still busy while its mate was pulling the blouse from Sigrid's waist. She bared Sigrid's belly and placed her hand flat against it.
"My, what skin. As flawless as a diamond. You must let me walk on it barefoot."
"No!"
"No, not today. But soon. You're mine, honey, and you might as well get used to the idea."
She hiked up Sigrid's skirt and the hand went underneath. Fingers snaked over her naked thighs and back to the mound. Sigrid knew that her pants were damp and now Fanny knew it, for she chuckled. "You tell me one thing, but your pussy tells me something else. It's been a while since you've had a little, hasn't it? I'll bet you got a real low boiling point."
Sigrid's tears increased. To hell with her; let her do what she wanted. She was finished fighting every inch of the way. She was surprised when Fanny took her hands from her.
"Quit the bawling, for Christ's sake. Come on, yourself straightened up. I don't want to have the girls meet you looking like a frump."
Sigrid stood, still sniffing, as she tucked her blouse back in her skirt and brushed at herself. "That's all?" she asked.
Fanny stood and elbowed her in the ribs. "For now, honey. Time for roll call. Time to meet your new friends. We'll finish our business later."
9
THAT SOMETHING THAT HAD DIED INSIDE SIGRID remained dead, so that her will to resist, her lust for life, her hopes and prayers for a future also stayed dead.
She allowed Fanny to lead her into the corridor and down to her room. She opened the door and motioned her inside. "You stay here."
She was gone for several minutes and then she returned for Sigrid. "Come on, they're in the day room."
In a large room at the far end of the dormitory were a number of women, all wearing the rumpled clothing of inmates, most of them young like Sigrid. A few were older and some were aged with yellowing hair that needed attention. There were perhaps two dozen who had been rounded up by the matron for their inspection of Sigrid.
As she came in a hush fell over the room and eyes peered at her. There were all sizes and colors of women, but the look in their eyes was a common one. Each was hungry. Hungry for freedom, for sex, for a friend, for a way out.
"This here's Sigrid Johnson," Fanny was saying. "You girls treat her right or you'll answer to me."
From somewhere came a Bronx cheer and Fanny's eyes swung about. "All right, who's the wise broad?" There was no answer.
"No more fooling around," Fanny went on. "Okay, now you girls know what to do. Make Johnson feel right at home-and no illegal games. You all know what I mean."
When she was gone the group relaxed and a number of the women told Sigrid their names. Others ignored her. Three waited until the others were occupied at a pool table, reading picture magazines or simply staring through the windows. Then they came up to Sigrid.
They were Jackie, Sue and Dottie, they told her, and they wanted her to feel at home.
Jackie, a tall thin girl with brown hair and a chest that was much too flat, appeared to be the leader. "You do as we say," she said, "and you won't get into any trouble. You got to know how to cooperate." She spoke in an accent that might have been New York-born. "You dig?"
Sigrid nodded, her hands twisting.
Sue continued. "We run this dorm and what we say goes. You play ball and you'll have all the protection you need." She was a short brunette with heavy hips and breasts. She'd been eating prison food for too long.
Dottie was different. She was tall, willowy and swishy, posturing like a blonde femme fatale. She was very feminine and her figure was excellent, but there was a blank look in her fair eyes that showed little depth in her character. She chewed gum and said nothing as the others coached Sigrid.
Sigrid felt herself being inspected from head to toe, as had happened so often since she'd been arrested. She was almost accustomed to it, but not quite. But she was no longer angry, but afraid and merely wishing to be left alone. But she knew privacy would be impossible in this place.
"Where you from, kid?" Jackie wanted to know. She slouched and rested her fist on a bony hip.
"L.A." Sigrid decided to let it go at that, but they didn't.
"You don't sound like L.A."
"All right, so I came to L.A. from Minnesota. What's the difference?" Sigrid snapped.
The three looked at one another, their eyebrows up. "Skip the sass. Didn't you get the message?" Sue snapped and Dottie merely nodded vigorously, her breasts jumping. She might have been naked under her skirt and blouse.
"You were mixed up with Nick Caletti."
Sigrid blinked.
"Junk." Sue made a face. "You manage to bring any in with you?"
Sigrid shook her head. "I never did what they said I did in that courtroom. You've got to believe me...."
There were a number of chuckles from around the room. "Sure, we were all railroaded," Jackie muttered. "You can cool that. No shack belonging to Nick has clean hands."
"Mine are."
"Correction. Were."
Sigrid sighed and turned away. "I'm going to my room. It's been a long day."
She left them staring after her as she marched back down the corridor to her room, closing the door firmly behind her. She stretched out on the bed, lying on her back, her hands behind her head. She studied the featureless ceiling for a while, wondering how many strange beds she'd be in before she was out of this mess.
God! She wanted to cry all over again, but there were no more tears. She still didn't know whether they were right about Nick. Of course he'd used her, but he loved her. He'd told her many times. Then she frowned. Or had he? He had said beautiful things, but he'd never made any promises. She sighed and stared at the ceiling.
In her dream she was with Nick. He was over her naked body and his wonderful cock was poised over her crotch. He was drawing up to stab his penis home and she had spread her legs wide to receive him. Her blood was boiling . ...
The rapping startled her and her eyes popped open. Where in the world...? Then she remembered and as she was rolling over the door flew open. It was Fanny.
"Roll it out for dinner, sweetie," she called. "Come along, chow down."
Sigrid blinked. "I'm not hungry."
Bucholtz came inside and stood over her. She looked at the rumpled bed, Sigrid's wrinkled skirt and at her flushed skin. "What have you been doing, playing with yourself? For Christ's sake, no real need to do that."
Sigrid rolled her head on the pillow. "You don't understand...."
"Sure I do. You're already having wet dreams, right? You were dreaming about that Nick bastard and his prick. Did he have time to bang you before I barged in?"
Sigrid's face was a mask. "I'm not hungry. Please go."
Fanny kicked the side of the bed and Sigrid was thrown almost against the wall. "Get off your ass, lady. This isn't an invitation; it's an order. And I don't go when you say, you understand? You don't give anybody orders around here, especially me. Come on, up!"
Sigrid scrambled to her feet.
"Let's roll it. At chow time everybody eats, whether they like it or not."
The corridor was filled with women standing outside their doors. A few giggled when Sigrid appeared, until
Fanny glared around. Then she waved her arm. "All right, move it, you dizzy broads."
They marched out of the building and through the gloom to the dining hall. It was modeled after the other buildings, except that there was a large room, a serving line, and a kitchen at the far end. It seemed that everyone ate in a single shift and Sigrid realized that Desert Slope was indeed new. Soon, she knew, overcrowding would mean doubling up in the rooms and in dining hall shifts. The taxpayers wouldn't stand for such individual luxury for long.
Sigrid found herself in a serving line, picking up a stainless tray and utensils that were carefully counted out by a male guard. She watched while serving women heaped toast on her tray and then a mountain of creamed chipped beef. She also got a helping of corn, green beans and a hill of custard with raisins. At the end of the line somebody shoved a carton of milk and a cup of coffee on her tray.
As she turned away she saw the large sign: "Take All You Want but Eat All You Take."
"You damned well better do it, girl," a man's voice growled and she peered up at a tall guard. "No waste around here or we add it to your time."
Sigrid looked over at the tables for an empty seat. A hand was up and waving and she saw it belonged to Jackie. She went to the table where Jackie, Sue and Dottie were seated. They were at a table for four, with one seat vacant. Sigrid swallowed and then went to their table.
"Park it, honey," Jackie rasped. "But hurry up. This isn't the Ritz. We've got twenty minutes to get through this shit on a shingle. Then a gong sounds and you stand up, march back to your room and behave yourself."
Sigrid ate as fast as she could, but her tray was much too full and the bell sounded as the others were finishing their custard. Dottie pointed to Sigrid's tray with a dramatic flourish and the others followed her fingers. "Oh, Christ."
They all got to their feet but before it was time to march away two male guards and Bucholtz passed among the tables. They stopped behind Sigrid. "I thought so," Fanny snapped. "Didn't you see that sign?"
"Take it easy," Jackie snapped back. "It's her first meal. She didn't know. Besides, she couldn't find a place to sit down until it was too late."
Fanny glared at Jackie and then she whirled to address the two hundred inmates. "All right, to your rooms. All of you, chop chop." She turned again. "Johnson, you stay where you are. Sit down and stay put."
Sigrid watched the others shuffle out and her three dining companions looked back at her until they were out of sight. In one minute the place was empty, except for a half dozen inmates who had the job of clearing the tables and washing down the large dining hall.
Fanny and the two men stayed with Sigrid. "All right, finish it up," Fanny rasped. "Every bite."
Dutifully, Sigrid began to eat again. She stuffed food into her mouth until her stomach would take no more. "I'm going to be sick."
"Then be sick, but you'll clean it up and eat some more when you've heaved your guts."
Sigrid never knew how she did it, but she finished the food on her tray, draining her cup of coffee at End. She knew she was going to throw up and the men just had time to leap aside before she vomited on the concrete floor. The gasping and splattering seemed very loud as everyone in the room paused while Sigrid threw up.
"What a pig!" Fanny said to the men.
One of them laughed. "A stacked pig, Fanny. How about bringing her around after she gets through here."
"Kiss my ass," Fanny snapped. "Hell, no, but I'll kiss hers."
Sigrid lifted her head with an effort, her eyes watery and her flesh clammy. Then she looked down at herself. The vomit had cleared her blouse and skirt, but the floor was a mess. They sent her into the kitchen and she returned with a mop and bucket. She felt weak, but she was able to clean up the mess to their satisfaction and then Fanny told the guards to get lost.
She escorted Sigrid back to her room, but before she closed the door she said, "Remember, we don't lock doors here, but don't get any ideas about leaving. We got places where we can lock you if we think you're gonna try something funny. Don't forget that electronic gate and fence, either."
Sigrid dragged herself to her bed and dropped on it, lifting her feet and lying on her side, facing the wall. She wanted to shut out the world until her strength came back. Then she'd decide whether she was able to fight any more or whether it was time for a final surrender.
She was still breathing heavily from her sickness when she heard the door. She turned her head to see Jackie, Sue and Dottie sticking their heads inside. "You all right?" Sue asked.
"I'm dying," Sigrid moaned.
They came inside, Dottie posing like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard. They gathered by her bed. "How did it go in there?" Jackie wanted to know.
"I ate it all ... and then I lost it...."
They made faces. "Goddamn that Bucholtz," Sue grumbled. "I'd like to tie her tits in a knot and burn off her nipples."
The others nodded and Jackie sat down on the side of Sigrid's bed. "Roll over, honey," she murmured.
Something in her voice caused a chill to wash over Sigrid. It wasn't the sickness now, but something new and perhaps even worse. "No. I want to be alone. Please leave me alone." She turned back to the wall, her hip jutting toward the ceiling.
"She sounds like Garbo," Sue snapped. "What the hell does she think she is, something made of solid gold? Since when did this broad become queen around here?"
"Cool it," Jackie hissed. "Dottie, check at the door. Make sure there aren't any other people planning visiting hours with this Los Angeles bombshell."
Dottie nodded without a sound and went to the door, peering into the corridor for a moment. She closed the door again and shook her head. All clear. That washer message.
"Good!" Jackie turned back toward Sigrid, who could feel her shifting on the side of the bed. "Now, then, honey, let's get acquainted. Just you and me."
Sue started to protest and Dottie looked angry, until Jackie raised her hands. "Take it easy. You'll get your chances-both of you. Christ, can't you see there's plenty for everybody? She could take on the whole damned dorm."
Sigrid stiffened and then she felt it. A hand was placed on her bottom, squarely in the middle of her left cheek. "My, she's got muscles, girls. Real tough muscles. And look at that hip. She could take a lot between those legs, a real big hunk of meat without even straining. Tell us, Johnson, did Nick have a big whang? Was he enough man for you?"
Sigrid murmured, "Go away. Please! I'm sick."
"We got what ails you, honey," Sue blurted. She giggled like a child and so did Dottie.
Sigrid knew it was Jackie's hand that moved on her buttocks, shifting from one cheek to the other. Then her hand slipped into the deep crack, pushing firmly against the khaki shirt. "Yup-choice quality. Prime beef!"
"I want a bite now," Sue exclaimed.
"The boss goes first. You know that," Jackie chided. "Get back in your cage until I tell you to come out."
"No, I'm staying right here."
"Okay, but behave yourself. That goes for you, too, Dottie. No fucking around with this woman without my permission. You just watch what I do."
The hand lifted Sigrid's skirt. "Jesus, look at those thighs. She must have been cut from marble."
The skirt flipped down again and the hand was back on her bottom. "Hell, she's lying on the zipper. All right, Johnson, roll it over."
Sigrid shook her head. "No, get out."
"I said roll over."
Sigrid lifted her head, knowing that she would need to surrender, knowing what they were going to do she would have no way of stopping. Still, she murmured, "What do you want?"
"You, naturally. Get up so we can take off your clothes. Christ, who ever heard of playing doctor and nurse with your clothes on?"
Sigrid's body tricked her again. First the feel of the hand and now the smutty words. They combined to trigger something in her body. She wanted them, much as she hated the thought of being touched by another woman.
But ... perhaps a woman's hand would be more gentle than a man's ... and Sigrid needed gentle comforting now.
10
SIGRID TURNED OVER AND THEN SHE SAT UP, HER shoulders slumping. Hands were on her and they belonged to the posturing Dottie, who had elbowed her way in front of her sisters.
Dottie opened a couple of buttons at Sigrid's throat and then her hand slipped inside. It shot down Sigrid's throat and under the left cup of her brassiere. The hand closed over the breast and squeezed.
Dottie gurgled.
"Pretty good, are they?" Jackie asked. Dottie gurgled again.
The hand went to the other breast and Dottie's look told Sigrid that she was surprised at finding a brassiere. A short laugh came from Sue.
"I could have told you she had one on. They always do until they've been here a while. We just let everything swing naturally, honey. You'll develop that state prison sag before long."
Dottie was still pumping and as she worked Jackie lifted Sigrid's chin. The dark eyes stared into her face.
"That getting to you at all, hon? Dottie's pretty good with the ladies. She's got educated hands."
Sigrid blinked, refusing to admit a thing. But things were happening inside her breasts. They were filling and lifting, while the nipples hardened. Dottie's gurgling told them all that she sensed it and was pleased.
The tingling was ringing those same bells that had been rung so many times in the past. She heard their message, but she refused to listen-as much as she could. Dottie pawed both breasts again and then Sue grabbed at the blonde's shoulders and pulled her away. "My turn, blue eyes."
Sigrid waited like a sheep in a slaughterhouse, quiet in her chute, ready for the cold steel that would fell her. Sue sat at her side, gazing at Sigrid's profile and, slowly, she traced her fingers over Sigrid's forehead, nose and lips. She stopped under the chin and then, she was on her knees before Sigrid, leaning on those beautiful thighs.
Sue lifted Sigrid's dress and all three women gazed on her white skin. Sue put her hands up there and the fingertips started Sigrid's nerves in a rhythmic jumping. She tried to clamp her knees together but Jackie and Dottie pulled them apart so that Sue could go higher.
The hands went higher and passed over the crotch of Sigrid's pants. She gasped, trying to muzzle the sound.
"She's eating it up," Jackie muttered.
"I sure as hell hope so," Sue replied. "I haven't been served as good a meal in days."
She gripped a handful of the pants and pulled them away from Sigrid's vagina. Her other hand dived under the edge and Sigrid's hairs were being plucked. She winced.
"Knock that off," Jackie snapped. "If you're going to play around get out of the way and let a pro take over."
She shoved Sue hard and the brunette fell on her side, her hands slipping from Sigrid's groin. Jackie promptly sat next to Sigrid on the bed and, gently, her arms came around her shoulders. "You're frightened and alone, aren't you?"
Sigrid raised her eyes, looking into Jackie's face. What sort of trick was this?
"Aren't you?" Jackie insisted.
At last Sigrid nodded, her blonde hair falling across her face.
"Trust me. I'm a gentle person at heart."
Sigrid hardly heard the other two women giggle behind their fingers.
Jackie's arm tightened around Sigrid's shoulders and she pulled her closer, easing her head down against her throat. She patted Sigrid's cheek and then she turned up the fair, Swedish face. Her lips came down on Sigrid's, very softly and gently. Sigrid didn't try to pull away. It was nice to be with someone who wasn't rough. She needed delicate comfort.
"Glory be!" Sue breathed. "She's working her magic again."
Jackie broke the kiss and looked up. "Shut your face before I mash it."
Sue shut up and Jackie kissed Sigrid again. It was little more than a peck, but her lips trembled with sympathy against Sigrid's and Sigrid appreciated that. She didn't try to pull away, her hands lying at her sides, relaxed.
"How nice," Jackie whispered into her ear and Sigrid remembered how Nick had breathed into her ear that way. She shuddered and Jackie laughed, low in her throat, again just like Nick used to do. She blew into Sigrid's ear deliberately and then she kissed the lobe. Brushing the golden hair aside, she placed her tongue against the ear and shoved. It curled into the folds of the ear and Sigrid stirred.
"Please don't do that...."
"If you insist," Jackie countered. "Do you insist?" Sigrid did not reply. "She's all for it, Jackie," Sue blurted.
"I told you to shut up. Keep running off at the mouth and I'll throw you out of here. Take a lesson from Dottie."
Jackie then placed her hands on Sigrid's head, turned her face around and kissed her full on the mouth. She shoved her jaws open so her tongue could dart inside and Sigrid struggled at this new attack ... but only for a moment. Then she tried to relax again. It was, in a strange way, comforting. She needed love so badly it didn't matter from where or from whom it came.
Jackie broke the kiss and then she stood, urging Sigrid to stand with her. Sigrid stood, looking Jackie in the eye. The skinny brown-haired woman was almost as tall as Sigrid, but not nearly so large. She was so thin, so flat, so bony about the hips. She was constructed like a teen-age boy.
"Now I'm going to be very gentle again," Jackie purred as she unbuttoned Sigrid's blouse. She peeled it away from her shoulders and then slowly tugged it from her skirt. She tossed it aside.
"My, what packages."
"Great boobs," Sue half-whispered.
Dottie gurgled.
Jackie turned Sigrid around until her back was toward them. She felt the pulling at the clasp and the brassiere sprang freely away from her body. She was turned again and there were three admiring gasps.
"Just lovely," Jackie purred as she placed her hand under a breast and lifted. The mound came up until Jackie jerked her hand away. It dropped stiffly, wiggling like a hill of virgin rubber. "So young. She doesn't sag, even without a brassiere."
"She will," Sue insisted. "With the chow they feed us she'll lose her snap. We all did."
Jackie waved her to silence as she cupped a breast in both hands and pulled it up and out. Then her face was down in it, her nose disappearing into the whiteness. Sigrid felt the warm moist air from Jackie's nostrils and she tingled. It was so different, having someone so gentle. She was puzzled about where this would end. Surely it could only be harmless play.
Jackie kissed the breast, sliding her lips to the nipple. She repeated the process on the breast's twin. Then she half turned Sigrid so that she could grip the zipper at her hip. She slid it open and then, waving the other girls into action, she supervised the removal of Sigrid's skirt.
As they pulled down at either side Jackie knelt and eased off Sigrid's shoes. In seconds she wore only her pants and she placed her hands before her crotch in a childish movement of impulse.
"Now, now, no need to be modest," Jackie chided. "You have so much to be proud of. See how envious Sue is. Even Dottie, who is beautiful in her way, is looking at you with eyes that want a body as beautiful as yours."
Slowly, Sigrid dropped her hands to her sides.
"Very good," Jackie continued. "Now place your feet about twelve inches apart, knees stiff. Come on. ... That's it! Place hands on hips, chin high, eyes straight ahead. There, girls, doesn't she look like something on the prow of a sailing vessel?"
"She looks like something I wanna throw the blocks to," Sue persisted and Dottie jerked her head up and down.
"Take it easy," Jackie warned. "Sigrid is our very special baby. You don't rough up valuable property. You get all the use you can out of it. A good craftsman takes care of his tools."
"God, I wish I had a good tool about now." Sue wouldn't remain patient.
Jackie waved them back and then she rolled down Sigrid's pants. As her vagina came into view there were other small sounds in the room. They leaned close and studied the blonde mound, the glistening hairs, the pink and moist lips inside.
"I think she's ready to fuck."
"Cool it, Sue. One more outburst like that and I'll clear the courtroom," she said, her eyes twinkling.
Sue giggled and so did Dottie.
Jackie removed Sigrid's pants and ordered her to resume her pose. "Magnificent! A shame to touch it, really, but I suppose we must."
She stood at Sigrid's side and placed her hand on her hip. At once her fingers wiggled their way inside the hip and across her lower belly to the pubic mound. The moving hairs tickled Sigrid, but she remained like a steaming statue of hot flesh and boiling blood.
Sigrid saw the spit slip from the corner of Dottie's oddly beautiful lips and Sue wiped her eyes as though she couldn't believe the sight. Sigrid's nerves loved every slight movement of Jackie's hands as they wormed to the edge of her pink folds. A finger went just inside and Sigrid gasped.
"Ah, pay dirt, girls. We can do as we please now."
"I'm for the ass-hole," Sue rasped.
Jackie gestured like a grand lady. "Help yourself."
Dottie made some strange sound and Jackie turned to the posturing beauty. "You, too. Start anywhere you like. It's Christmas, what the hell."
Sue hurried behind Sigrid and immediately her hands were on the cheeks of her buttocks. Sigrid felt the hands kneading her like dough, pressing everywhere, trying to break down the tenseness in her muscles. Under the massage Sigrid did begin to relax and she allowed her buttocks to lose their uptight posture.
The strange Dottie had fallen to her knees and now she had her face on the floor, as though she were praying to Mecca. Sigrid was startled when the blonde kissed the tops of her bare feet. Her lips moved back and forth and then she was handling Sigrid's toes, lifting them and kissing them one by one. Sigrid felt her big toe being sucked into Dottie's mouth.
Meanwhile, Sue was still at work. Her massage had worked in ever smaller circles until it was centered over Sigrid's anus. Fingers poked and one was pushing insistently against the circle of muscle that barred the way up into Sigrid's tract. For another minute Sigrid kept the door closed, but cooing words and warm hands won her over. With a sob of despair, she relaxed and the finger darted inside.
Jackie was not idle. She was fondling Sigrid's breasts, dropping her hands to her belly, where she molded the area of Sigrid's navel as though it were a valued object to be revered. Then Jackie was lifting her own skirt and tucking it into her waist. Her crotch was exposed; she wore no pants underneath. There was a heavy thatch of brown hair between her legs so that Sigrid couldn't see the lips of her cunt inside.
Dottie was licking Sigrid's feet now and the slurping filled the room. There were few other sounds, except for occasional whispers, sighs and the rustle of clothing. It was as though they were in a library.
Sue's fingers worked all the way into Sigrid's anus and began to wave. The back and forth movement made rockets go off in Sigrid's lower tract. She had trouble keeping her feet when her knees turned to water. It was Jackie who encouraged her not to collapse.
"Steady, honey. You'll love it more if you stay strong."
Jackie stepped over the kneeling figure of Dottie, straddling the blonde head so that she could stand closely against Sigrid. Jackie was still the boss and the most prized fruits of victory were to be hers. She grasped the backs of Sigrid's thighs, pulling her hips forward as she shot her own pelvis ahead. The two vaginal bushes merged, the blonde sinking into the brown. Sigrid rotated her pelvis and Sigrid felt the tingling shoot up through her own loins.
Dottie was sucking toe after toe. Then she was kissing Sigrid's ankles. Jackie looked down and chuckled. "She's always been a toe queen. That's how she wound up in here. She tried to cut off her girl friend's big toes and put them in a bottle for her freezer."
Sigrid shuddered but not from revulsion. Sue's finger was working its magic, penetrating far up her anus and pushing internal organs to and fro so that it felt as though Sigrid's guts were being turned inside out. Such a delicious pain!
Jackie continued trying to fuck Sigrid, working her back and forth. The thin woman muttered something about playing the scene ill-prepared, that she would have remembered to bring a dildo. Still, she was able to use her vagina with great skill. She worked it back and forth and, as her outer lips became swollen and hard, Sigrid could feel them raking her own lips. The stimulation couldn't be denied.
Dottie was kissing Sigrid's knees by now, her pouting red lips pecking and sucking everywhere. Sigrid's legs tingled from the pecking, as though a cloud of mosquitoes was raging about her limbs.
Sue was pushing hard and her finger was looping around various obstacles and pulling at them. The wrenching was causing Sigrid's juices to boil. Much more of that and something would explode in her vitals. The finger then shot directly up her bung as far as Sue could thrust it. "Oh!"
"You coming, hon?" Sue gasped from behind her.
Sigrid reached back to discover that Sue was standing, partly stooped, so she could bring her strength to bear up Sigrid's sturdy ass. Her hand fell on a breast. Not a bared breast, but one that quivered inside its prison blouse. The warm flesh and stiff nipple told her that there was no brassiere. Apparently Sigrid was the only woman in the prison who wore under things of any kind.
Jackie was still taking her toll at Sigrid's cunt. If she'd been a man she'd have buried her penis in Sigrid's channel by now but, as it was, the best she could do was to continued to rake her loins across Sigrid's puffing lips. It was working. Sigrid felt it start.
And how it started!
As Dottie's mouth reached her thighs, as Jackie's vagina raked, as Sue's finger pumped like a piston up her ass, she began to flow. She shuddered like a great ship struck somewhere below the waterline by a torpedo.
"She's making it!" Sue squealed, writhing as Sigrid's hand remained on her own breast. "Come on, honey, pinch my nipple when you come!"
Sigrid squeezed her eyes closed, ground her teeth and rammed her cunt forward, almost knocking Jackie off her feet. Sue's finger slipped out for an instant and Dottie's head, caught between Sigrid's knees and Jackie's thighs, was buffeted. But in seconds all three rushed back to the attack.
The finger was back in place, pumping. The kisses rained on Sigrid's thighs. The two vaginas continued their abrasive dance.
Sigrid tried not to scream, but she couldn't hold back the whimpers. It was as though she were letting all of her pain and misery pour out. Her orgasm certainly wasn't one of ecstasy. It was more like a healthy bowel movement. She wanted to rid herself of her frustrations and these women, even as they soiled her, were relieving her tensions and frustrations.
She sobbed as the trigger of orgasm was pulled and her juice flowed. Her anus convulsed over Sue's finger, her thighs trembled as Dottie licked her moist skin and her vagina steamed as Jackie pushed her pelvis forward as hard as she could.
"Go, hon," Jackie breathed into her face. She kissed her on the lips. "Really go!"
Sigrid went in all three directions and, in her way, each of the other three women had her own orgasm. Jackie was loving being in charge, forcing another woman to her will. Sue was probably fingering her own cunt, for she was crying out in small whimpers just as much as was Sigrid. Dottie was also achieving some weird satisfaction from making another woman's thighs turn to jelly.
Before long Sigrid passed her peak and then she was, in fact, ready to collapse. Jackie was there to help catch her and ease her back on the bed. The women gathered over her, patting and kissing her body everywhere before they pulled up the blanket.
Protected at last, Sigrid watched them retire toward the door. "She did good," Sue announced, "but I wanted a blow job. What about that?"
Before Sigrid passed out she heard Jackie reassuring Sue. "Later, baby, later. All in good time...."
ll
WHEN SIGRID AWOKE IN THE MORNING SHE HAD A headache. It was as though she had a hangover and, when she moved, she realized the rest of her body also ached. She felt tender all over. Her buttocks were still jumping with pain, her vagina was aching with a dull throb and her breasts and thighs were not without a certain tingle from the forced massage.
She got out of bed and staggered to her sink, there peering at herself in the mirror. She was a mess and she felt ashamed. She knew it wouldn't be long before she looked as ragged as the other inmates. They had little reason to keep themselves nice, unless it was to flirt with one another.
She worked at her hair and her face as best she could, but she had little with which to work except a comb and soap and water. At least she was able to make herself clean from the neck up. The rest of her body, still aching, also felt dirty.
At breakfast she was careful to leave her tray almost empty as she went down the serving line. She felt the eyes of a dozen women on her and she wondered what their thoughts might be. Were they admiring her beauty? Did they know of her downfall? Did they think her hair looked terrible?
She sat at a table where she knew none of the others and ate a piece of toast and drank her coffee in silence. Once she looked up to see a male guard staring at her. He was a small man-inches shorter than Sigrid-with a large Adam's apple and a weak chin. His eyes glittered as he watched her eat and he licked, his lips as though he were tasting the food.
She forgot him as she finished ahead of schedule and waited until the bell sounded. Then she arose with the others and filed out, pausing while guards at the door counted the knives, forks and spoons. She was back in her room for only a few minutes when the door snapped open and Bucholtz was before her, glaring.
"Come on, sweetheart. Time for orientation."
Sigrid looked up. "Orientation?"
"Sure. Maples gives you the once-over and decides what's gonna be done with you. Take my advice and be nice; it'll pay off in a better job. You gotta work somewhere and it's better to stay out of the sewing shop or some jerk place where they wear your fingers to the bone."
Sigrid touched her hair as she followed Fanny into the corridor. The other women were lined up outside their rooms, ready to be counted and then ordered out for their day's work. Sigrid knew that there was a sewing room where girls made state clothing, a craft room where articles were made to be offered for sale at various state parks and museums (the tourists never knowing that prison hands made the redwood ash trays and ceramic figures of Smoky the bear) and an office where paperwork was the principal product.
As they passed along the corridor Sigrid saw Jackie watching her. The thin woman smiled and crossed her fingers. They all knew where she was being taken and Sigrid wondered if she saw pity in some of their eyes. What did "being nice" to the warden really mean?
They crossed the yard and went into the administration building. Fanny paused before a full-blown blonde who sat at the reception desk, told her their business, and then they moved on. Fanny rapped once on Maples' door and opened it. She angled her head at Sigrid. "Enter, rest and pray, honey."
Sigrid went in. The warden was behind his desk, wearing the same brown suit, rimless glasses and bland look that could lose him in any crowd of more than a dozen people. He looked up from a pile of papers.
"Well, well. Right on time, I see." He seemed much more nervous than the day before when Sigrid had been brought in. He got up, rubbing his hands together. "All ready for routine orientation, Miss Johnson? You understand it's a regular procedure at Desert Slope, to help our young women find their proper role at the institution."
Sigrid stood before him, looking over her shoulder once at Fanny, who was a pace behind her and to her right, her hands behind her back like a sentry at parade rest. Sigrid nodded to the warden, remembering Fanny's advice.
"I want to cooperate, sir, and I'll take any job you think fits me."
Maples was startled. "Of course, you will. There is no option, unless you care to strike and we have ways of dealing with trouble-makers, haven't we, Miss Bucholtz?"
"Yes, sir," Fanny barked.
The warden rubbed his hands together as he walked in a circle around Sigrid. "My, we're beginning to let ourselves go already. Pity!"
Sigrid shrugged. "I don't have my things. If I could buy some cosmetics and a few other articles ... well, I'd keep myself looking presentable."
"I'm sure you would," the warden replied. "We have certain things that would help and we're delighted to supply them to cooperative inmates. Do you know anything about cooperation, Miss Johnson?"
Sigrid merely frowned.
Maples frowned, too, as he leaned close to Sigrid's shoulder and sniffed. "Miss Bucholtz, when was the last time this young lady bathed?"
Fanny shrugged. "Probably back in L.A., warden. I don't think she's had time here."
"You know I want my girls ... the inmates ... to take daily showers." He looked distressed. "Especially when they come before me for orientation. Very well, take her into my inner office. Put her in the shower and do a good job. You know what I mean, and call me when she's ready to be orientated."
"Yes, sir." Fanny crossed to an inner door and crooked her finger at Sigrid as Maples sat down at his desk. He rested his eyes on Sigrid's swinging hips until they were in the other room and the door was closed them.
Sigrid said to Fanny, "What's he so upset about? I'm not that dirty."
"He's a goddamned woman, sweetheart, and he-likes his girls to smell all lavender and lace. You know, like the inside of a perfume box."
"For a work interview? It doesn't make sense."
"Look, I told you to cooperate. You may not like it, but you'll get something good out of it." She looked at Sigrid with pity in her eyes. "Around here you're gonna need all the deals you can get if you're gonna survive."
The inner office looked more like a gymnasium.
There were various padded mats on the floor and a number of ropes and other contraptions on the walls. There were rings, rubber rods and other tools Sigrid presumed were for exercising. Fanny shoved her into a small bath that was complete with a shower. She turned the water on very hot and ordered Sigrid to strip.
Sigrid did while Fanny watched, licking her lips. She touched Sigrid's shoulder when she was naked and then she looked longingly into her pubic area. "Shit, why should that fairy have all the fun? All right, into the water and soap yourself down good."
Sigrid lifted her chin, sniffing. "I know how to clean myself, thank you."
Fanny made a face. "Cut the sass and get going."
Sigrid enjoyed the shower, piling her golden hair high on her head to keep it dry. Then Fanny thrust a large, rough towel into the stall and Sigrid rubbed her body until it glowed with a clean pinkness. The grime, the smell and the aches from the night before had disappeared as though by magic.
"Out," Fanny snapped, hooking her thumb.
Sigrid wrapped the towel about herself and stepped out. Fanny had opened a tiny closet in the bathroom and Sigrid was amazed to find it stocked with everything a woman would need in her boudoir. There were perfumes, powders, a variety of combs, oils, and even a green satin robe with a red tie sash.
Under Fanny's gaze Sigrid used all of the perfumes, oils and powders, then taking special care to pin up her hair, piling it high. Perhaps she wanted to insult Maples by making herself seem to tower over him even more. She didn't know, but she knew as she slipped into the yummy green satin and tied the sash that she looked very, very good.
"My, my," was all Fanny said. "My, my! That jerk doesn't deserve it."
Then she directed Sigrid out of the bath and back into the gymnasium-like room. She pointed to a wide, soft chair that was almost the size of a love seat and she ordered Sigrid to sit down. Sigrid sat in it and leaned back, crossing her legs. For a few moments she was allowing herself to believe she was once again in a civilized world. It felt good.
"All ready for the interview?" Fanny said as she went to the door leading to Maples' office.
Sigrid nodded as she studied her nails. They needed attention badly and there were files in the bath. If only she had time....
Fanny opened the door and called something in to the warden. An instant later Maples appeared, his eyes shining, his Adam's apple sliding up and down as he swallowed. He stared at Sigrid and then at Fanny, who merely raised her eyebrows. He coughed into his hand.
"Miss Bucholtz, suppose you stand by the door. You know how I don't like to be disturbed during the interview. If we need you youll know what to do."
"Yes, sir."
Fanny stationed herself by the door while Maples went to Sigrid. He sat by her side in the compact chair and their hips touched, but the warden made no move to touch Sigrid in any other way. He took his glasses off, cleaned them on a white handkerchief, and then he put them on again.
"Miss Johnson, exactly what tasks do you feel you are most suited for at Desert Slope?" His voice was high and tight.
Sigrid looked at her hands in her lap. "I'd really prefer to be in the office, Mr. Maples. I haven't had much experience sewing and things like that. I was quite good at typing when I was in college." Actually Sigrid knew how to sew well but she wasn't telling the warden.
Maples nodded. "You'll be expected to demonstrate to me how badly you want that office job." He licked his lips. "They're very much in demand, you understand."
"I understand." Sigrid knew it was time to think of herself and no one else. "What is it you want?"
"I want you first to remove my clothing. All of it."
Sigrid blinked. "Here? Now?"
He smiled toward Fanny as though Sigrid were slightly out of her head. "Of course, my dear. When did you think I meant?" He stood and lifted his arms. "Now! All of it. You do everything."
Sigrid glanced at Fanny, but she knew the matron would be no help-except to her boss. So she stood and wiped her palms on the green satin over her thighs. Maples followed the gesture. "A most attractive costume, my dear. Most attractive. Perhaps we should retire it in your honor."
His arms were still lifted so Sigrid at once unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it over his shoulders. He moved very little, preferring to play the role of a department store window figure. Sigrid loosened his tie and removed it. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it from his body. He wore no undershirt and she glanced briefly at his thin chest. His skin was white and puckered, like an anemic prune.
"Well?"
She looked into his face. "I beg your pardon." Maples snapped his fingers. "Fanny, didn't you tell her?"
"You're supposed to keep saying things, honey," Fanny said from the door. "Tell him how terrific he is and keep it up all the while. Don't leave out even his little finger."
Sigrid stuck her tongue in her cheek as she studied his chest. "You're certainly white."
"Not good enough," he snapped.
"You're not a big man but I suppose you're tough enough. I like my men to be small and tough. They seem to last so much longer." She looked into his face again. Yes, he was eating up her talk now. "People like me are too big and awkward to be really graceful."
He snapped his fingers toward his waist. "Keep it up."
She loosened his belt and then she knelt and took one foot in her hands and then the other, removing his shoes. She stood and slid his fly open. Thank God somebody wore shorts. She stepped back and his pants fell over his shapeless hips to the floor. He rested a hand on her shoulder as she helped him step out of the pants.
He was clad in his baggy shorts and socks, looking the part of a fool. Sigrid almost laughed but she was careful for he wouldn't like that. She glanced toward Fanny, who nodded.
"All the way," Maples intoned.
Sigrid ripped open the grippers on his shorts and they fluttered to the carpet. There wasn't much to the warden anywhere. His cock was small and dried, like a piece of fruit that should have fallen to the ground long ago. His balls were almost nonexistent, tucked between his pool-cue legs. His belly stuck out and she realized it had been hidden by the cut of his double-breasted jacket. There were sparse black hairs on his thighs.
She stepped back. "There!"
"Very good," he muttered, his throat squeaking in his excitement. "Now touch me."
Sigrid stopped, frozen. How badly did she want that typing job? Did she want to play games with this monkey of a man for the sake of not getting her hands dirty?
Surprisingly, Maples smiled. "You're wondering if it's worth it. It is. Not only do you earn a place on my favorites list, which earns you all sorts of benefits like candy, smokes, time off and extra showers, but you avoid the pit that exists in the sewing shop. Eucholtz, tell her."
Fanny said, "In the sewing shop you'd be working with a bunch of ape women, all the low class of the low class, if you get the picture. They're the kind that goose you every time you bend over, grab at your pussy when your arms are full of bolts of cloth and they try to ram thimbles up your ass when you're not looking. A university campus atmosphere it ain't, honey. Believe me."
Sigrid shuddered and decided it would be all right to touch the warden. She placed her hand on the shaft of his penis and it wasn't so bad. like touching a small dead fish washed up on the shore of one of the lakes back home.
"Grasp it." Sigrid grasped. "Now, pull."
She pulled and, abruptly and with surprising speed, the little thing hardened and became larger. She stared at the warden. "You're surprised," he said. He wasn't asking. It was a statement. "You're surprised that a small man could have such power."
She shook her head. "Not at all. I told you I prefer small men because they're usually more expert and have more stamina. I'm not surprised at all. In fact," she swallowed, "I would have been disappointed in you."
The warden was pleased. "Very good, Miss Johnson. Just excellent. Miss Bucholtz, you are to be congratulated on the performance of your latest pupil."
"Yes, sir," Fanny intoned, gazing at the ceiling.
Maples sat down in the love seat, placing his arms out wide. "Now you may touch me everywhere. After that you can begin to suck."
Sigrid shuddered. She didn't want to go any further. Not with this man who apparently would never get enough of her.
12
SIGRID SUCKED HER LOWER LIP. "PLEASE, I ... I THINK I'm getting tired."
"Touch me!" Maples commanded. "Hold back and I'll bring Bucholtz over and you know what that would mean. Too many young women have been hesitant and it's much more pleasant-for us all-when they cooperate voluntarily. Especially when it's over and I must select their prison occupations."
Sigrid leaned over the warden and her hands went to his face. She allowed her fingers to press into the sallow skin and slide from one plane of the face to another. Then she felt his throat and his shoulders and chest. He was like a cold, plucked chicken that was ready for the oven. She moved her hands down his arms and then to his ribs.
She touched his belly, finding the thing soft and even more puffy, more like unbaked dough than the skin of a chicken. She stopped at his navel and looked into his face. He nodded with an angelic light in his eyes. His little pecker was standing straight up like a finger that was pointing the way for a stranger.
She moved into his groin, where there was sparse black hair, but very little of it so that his white skin showed all the way. She lifted his cock and found his balls. They were hardly more than marbles, very tight with the skin drawn over them as they throbbed. She kneaded gently and he gurgled and closed his eyes, his fingers clutching the arms of the love seat.
She paused and his eyes popped open. "Don't stop. Not only will I call Bucholtz but I will be forced to call certain apparatus into play." He waved a hand about the room. "And it is extremely efficient equipment. It has been known to break down the very strongest of women."
Sigrid remained motionless, thinking about what she was doing. Here she was, Miss Sigrid Johnson, former Minnesota college student from an excellent family, fondling the luggage of a filthy little man in a state prison. Still, she had to think about survival first, and she could later wash her hands in a very strong soap.
She sighed and massaged his balls again, reaching as far under his body as she could. Then he began to help, lifting his buttocks from the chair so that Sigrid could reach all the way under. She was beginning to react to the one-sided game, foreign as it was to her nature. She hadn't been with any man for so long that the handling of this miserable specimen was nevertheless beginning to excite her.
She worked her fingers back of his balls until she was in the crack of his buttocks. He was still hairy under there and she ran her index finger along the fissure, plunging it as deeply as she could.
He squealed like a frightened little pig, but it was a squeal of joy. She wished she could have been plunging him into a boiling pot of water as the story of The Three Little Pigs came back to her.
When she had finished her massage of his anus she withdrew her hand. There, she'd done everything she could for this man. She'd felt his most intimate places and it hadn't really harmed her. Now she would be rewarded with a good job and her freedom to return to the dormitory and scrub herself clean.
"It's sucking time," he rasped, wiping the sweat from his forehead."
Sigrid blinked. "I beg your pardon."
"I told you before, it's time to suck."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that. Even if it means..."
"It means something very ugly. Bucholtz, you'd better instruct the young lady."
"Play ball, honey," Fanny called. "Play ball or you'll be torn apart."
Sigrid swirled her blonde hair in denial. "I'm ... I'm sorry, but I can't. I've got to live with myself."
"You've also got to live with me and two hundred other young women," Maples warned. "If you want to live in the jungle of the sewing shop ... well, that can be arranged."
"Until now," he rasped. "Believe me, there won't be all that much more. How could there be?"
Sigrid's shoulders slumped as she looked down at the little man who trembled with anxiety and frustration. "What do you want me to do?"
Maples smiled as his glasses steamed. "Just lick me a bit, that's all, my dear Miss Johnson. Start by licking my face and see where you can go from there."
Sigrid leaned over him and, wincing, she placed her tongue against his cheek. He tasted foul and salty, but she kept her tongue in place until the initial shock had passed. Then she dragged the tongue down his cheek, her eyes closed all the while. When she opened them she saw that he was looking at her from the corner of his eye, his glasses still steamed.
She licked the other cheek and, as she worked, she heard the gurgling in his throat. He was like a simmering pot of filth and she wanted to throw him out with the garbage. She lapped next at his chin and then she touched the tip of his nose. She pulled away, wanting to spit but knowing that such a gesture would infuriate the man.
"There, now, was that so bad?" he asked, sounding like a kindly clinic doctor who had just given a little girl a needle in the upper arm.
Sigrid sighed. "No, not if it's all."
"It isn't all. Keep licking."
She looked across at Fanny and the stocky matron nodded. Back to work Sigrid went, licking Maples' shoulders, throat and arms, covering all the places her hands had been. He was moaning and squirming in the love seat by now and she prayed that he'd have his orgasm early and get it over with. Such a small man could only have one orgasm a day in him. Yes, that would be her strategy. Get him to shoot his bolt before he wanted.
She was licking his stomach, feeling like an evil tabby cat. Still, it wasn't totally unpleasant. She wasn't going to enjoy it, but she was surprised that she could perform so well with an ugly stranger. She lapped her way to the top of his groin and there she tarried. She was licking at the first sparse hairs of his crotch as her hand stole over his pouch.
Casually, she covered his cock and balls with her hand, her tongue working just above all the while. As she kept on with her licking she tightened her grip on his cock and soon she had grasped it in her fingers, everything in a stroking position, so that she was ready for action.
"Your hand," he groaned, but she knew he was loving it too much to protest.
She lifted her face. "I'm doing it my way, warden. Don't you think I know what to do?"
He swallowed. "God, you must. With that body, you must have invented sex." , "Then relax and enjoy it. Wasn't that your advice to me a while ago?"
She was licking again, but she wasn't going to put her lips on that penis. Not for her life she wasn't. Her fingers massaged the knob of his penis, working under the small flange. What a walnut he was next to the coconut size of Nick's cock. He was so inadequate. No wonder he played his games with the women of the prison. He could never make it on the outside, not where merit counted.
She grasped his cock tightly behind the head and worked her hand up and down in a short, firm, but easy series of strokes. At the same time she increased her licking and made more noise as she shifted her body about. She leaned against his knees, pressing her breasts into his bony limbs to distract him. But the warden didn't appear to be a breast man. Indeed, he hadn't asked to touch her body at all, or even to see it. All he wanted was her hands and her mouth.
She could feel the cock burgeon as much as the tiny thing was able. She wondered how much sperm the thing could emit when the climax came. It couldn't be much. The warden was too old, too small and obviously in terrible physical condition. She stroked on until he stiffened and thrust her back.
"My God, I'm coming!"
"Wonderful!" she cried in false enthusiasm, even though she was glad of her success.
"No, that's terrible. It's much too soon. I wanted to complete ... damn it, woman ... you've ruined ... I can't hold back." He seized Sigrid's head, grasping her ears and pulling her back against him. "Open your mouth and take it. Come on, it's pouring out of my balls this instant."
"No!" Sigrid screamed. "I'll never do that. Not with you-even if you kill me."
"By God, I will."
She twisted her face aside as his milky stream came gushing forth. The first splatter of white hit her on the side of her throat and the rest caught her just at the V of her dressing gown. It ran down her creamy skin into the robe. She could feel the sticky heat between her breasts. That was all there was. No more than two spurts came from the warden before he was finished, rocking back and forth and wheezing as he pumped his penis and milked a final drop out on the head. It hung there like an icicle, refusing to drop off.
He rattled in his throat like a restless, angry army. Then he hit her hard across the cheek, the sound loud in the room. Sigrid was used to being struck; she'd been hit by men and women ever since her arrest.
"Bitch!" Maples hissed. "You'll pay for this. Go on, lick off that last drop."
Instead Sigrid snapped her finger against the side of his rapidly softening cock and the drop whipped off, sticking under his own chin. He fumed, rocking back and forth in an orgasm of temper. He gestured toward Fanny.
"Bucholtz, let's teach this bitch a lesson. She'll regret this for the rest of her life."
Fanny left her post at the door and came to them. She looked at Sigrid, first with sadness and then with a glitter that hardened in her eyes. She looked as though she were going to enjoy a little fun herself. "Yes, sir. Where do you want to start?"
"Put her against the wall. You know the drill. Feet and hands through the cuffs. All clothing in place the way I like it."
Fanny pulled Sigrid to her feet and marched her to a padded wall. Four rings hung from the wall by short chains and Sigrid saw that they were handcuffs adapted for a new purpose. She was thrust with her back to the wall as Fanny snapped the rings on each ankle and then on her wrists. She turned a small crank at each ring until Sigrid's arms and legs were stretched wide and firmly, so that she could squirm only slightly.
"All set, warden."
Maples was wiping the drop of come from his chin with the white handkerchief. Then he got up and came to Sigrid. He inspected the rings and looked her in the face. "Now, you're going to pay."
Sigrid spat and the slog caught him on the bridge of the nose.
He whipped his hand across her cheek again and at the same time he brought up his knee. It caught her in the pit of the stomach and Sigrid went limp as the air whooshed from her body. She hung there, gasping, for several minutes until she was able to fill her lungs again.
He stood back, wiping the spit from his face, until Sigrid was able to straighten up. Then he grasped her by the throat and squeezed until her mouth fell open. He shoved the handkerchief between her jaws and turned. Fanny was there with an elastic band which he snapped over Sigrid's head and the gag was held in place. There was nothing she could do now. It was her turn to take it. She would have no more dishing out with this maniac.
He looked at her through his rimless glasses, a smirk on his face. "Now," he rasped, now we bring the proud beauty to her knees." He grasped his penis again and pumped briefly, but the thing remained limp. 'God, but how I love it. How I love to bring beauty down to my level. You don't know how much satisfaction you've given me, Sigrid Johnson. You shall have one of the best jobs at Desert Slope."
Sigrid stared. Was she hearing right? Had she actually done as he wished?
"So few have the will to resist. You'd be surprised. I've even had virgins in here who were willing to die for their honor, until I pointed out the alternatives to obedience. Then they crumbled, all of them. But you are the exception, my dear, and I thank you for it."
Sigrid rolled her eyes toward Fanny, but Fanny wasn't looking sympathetic. She wore the same tight smile that was on Maples' face. They were both suffering from the same sickness.
Maples shrugged, suddenly sad. "Still, you must pay. I cannot allow defiance here at the facility. That would lead to trouble. If I let you leave this room without punishment..." he shook his head.
He moved close to her and opened the red sash. Then he opened the green satin robe, gazing on her body for the first time. "Such a lovely creature, Miss Bucholtz."
"Yeah, I know," Fanny rasped from behind the warden.
Maples peeled the robe back so that, it hung over Sigrid's chained wrists. He looked down at her crotch and then at the red mark his knee had left on her belly. He turned to Fanny. "I think a candle ought to do it. I don't really want to mar this property. We have so many days of games ahead of us. Make it a large candle, please. We don't want any accidents."
Fanny went to a locker across the room, returning with three candles. They were almost a foot long each and all were thick. "One of these ought to fit, warden."
Maples helped himself to the largest and knelt before Sigrid, thrusting the butt of the candle into her vagina. She winced as he pushed her flat against the wall, but the candle was too large.
"Not as much cunt as I expected," he murmured, taking the next smaller size. "Still, she's a remarkable woman. Let's give this one a go."
The next candle was thrust up Sigrid's crotch. "I think her pussy's right for that one," Fanny muttered as she knelt at the warden's side. "Yeah, it's good and tight. No chance for it to slip out."
Maples nodded. "I quite agree."
He turned the candle as though it were a screw until the three-inch-thick thing was all the way up against Sigrid's womb. It stuck out about four inches and the two measured its size. Maples nodded again.
"What is it we figure, an inch per hour?"
"Yes, sir," Fanny said. "You want the matches now?"
She offered them to Maples and he struck one, touching it to the candle wick. The candle was lighted and he shook his hand until the match went out. "Do be careful, my dear," he purred. "That hot wax dripping on a bare thigh can be painful."
He drew back, nodding and beaming. "In four hours we'll be able to smell the burning hair and pussy flesh, Miss Bucholtz."
Fanny agreed and then Maples smiled at Sigrid and left the room. Fanny came close to Sigrid, who stood like a figure being crucified. "Honey, you're gonna blow your mind on this one. When that flame gets a half inch from your cunt and you smell the sizzling sweat and the burning fur, you're gonna wish you did everything Maples ever asked."
She went to the door and turned. "The room's soundproof, so scream all you want. When your sanity goes, even you won't hear a thing."
13
SIGRID DISCOVERED WHAT HELL WAS. IT. WAS MUCH later, when she was back in her room, that the jolt really hit her. Before that the fear and shock had somehow insulated her against the full impact of life at Desert Slope.
As she hung on the chained handcuffs her mind went crazy for a time and, by the time Fanny returned to pluck out the candle from her vagina minutes before it would have begun to ass Sigrid's pubic hair, she was screaming and twisting.
Fanny helped Sigrid to her room and there she locked her in for the first time. They weren't certain how long it would take Sigrid to regain her composure and they didn't want her screaming across the compound where some visitor might see and hear.
It was almost the dinner hour when she heard the key turn in the lock and saw the door open. Fanny stuck her head inside. "How you doing, kid?"
Sigrid lay on her bed, her head on her arms. She blinked but said nothing.
Fanny came inside and closed the door, coming across to sit on the side of the bed. "I know, you're changed. That routine changes them all. It's designed for that. You'll be able to take anything from now on."
Sigrid didn't want to take anything more ... not one thing. It was true, something had happened. That candle had hardened her as though the heat had forged steel from soft iron. She'd had enough from Maples, Fanny and all the others. She was going to make her own way and, somehow and someday, she was going to find Nick and pay him back.
Bucholtz stared down at Sigrid. Her blonde hair was still mussed but still she was beautiful as she lay quietly. Her skin was so fair, her lips so full and red, her body so filled with curves and hollows. Fanny wanted this creature badly.
"You did all right, you know," she said, her voice quiet.
Sigrid frowned. "Don't lie. He probably hates me for what I did to him. Spitting and all that. Still, I'm glad, because I hate him."
Fanny smiled. "Of course he hates you, but that means he loves you. He told you how he-likes his victims to have a lot of fight. He thinks you did wonderfully, especially on the chains. He watched you through it all."
"Watched?"
"Certainly. This place is filled with one-way mirrors. Nobody misses anything, especially Maples. You'd be surprised how often he studies you girls when you're in the can." Fanny shrugged, her heavy breasts bobbing. "Sure it's sick, but it's a sick world, honey."
Sigrid sat up. No longer was she the naive girl from the Middle West. She was grown up, hardened, wise, tough, looking out for herself. "What did he give me? Did I get the office job?"
"Sure you did, starting tomorrow."
When Fanny was gone Sigrid had other callers. Jackie, Sue and Dottie walked in. "Almost chow time," Jackie muttered, sucking on a cigarette. It was a thin cigarette with a grassy smell. Pot, Sigrid supposed, but she didn't give a damn. If they were setting her up for another frame it didn't matter.
"How'd you do?" Sue wanted to know.
Sigrid stared at her. "Mind your own business. You're all a bunch of lousy dykes. Get out of my room."
"Take it easy," Jackie snapped as Dottie swished about like an angry actress on a movie set. "We're the best friends you got, baby."
"Then I don't need any enemies."
"Listen, kid, we're on your side against them. Just because you're sexy doesn't mean we're not on the same team. A little rape is a way of life around here." Jackie offered the weed and Sigrid took it, sucking deeply. "Now, did you pass the warden's tests?"
Sigrid liked the butt. It was solving a few of her problems already. Things didn't look so dark. She nodded. "I suppose so. Bucholtz says I start in the office tomorrow."
"Terrific," Sue rasped. She looked sad. "I been trying to get in there for almost a year."
"You got to know how to read and write, honey," Jackie rasped and Dottie giggled behind them as she idly scratched a bulging breast. "That's great, Sig. I knew you had it in you."
"Yeah, the candle was in her, I bet," Sue added.
They worked on Sigrid until she told them the whole story. After a silent dinner they resumed the talk session in her room. The three other women didn't cheer up Sigrid once the grass cigarette boost was gone.
"This is the rotten thing about prison," Jackie was muttering as she stood looking out the small high window at the night. "It isn't the year, two years time you lose out of your life. It's that you turn into a pervert and you're never the same once you graduate from this place. You'd think it was a good deal, being such a new facility and all, but the opposite is true. They figure Maples is a good man and that he's got a good staff and plenty of budget money, so they don't bother to come around investigating. If they do, he and Fanny and the other screws know how to sweep everything under the rug."
Sue and Dottie nodded sadly.
"First thing you know you'll be sick like us." Jackie hooked her thumb at the other women and they glared back as though insulted. Still, they didn't protest. Perhaps they were trapped by facts. "These broads wouldn't know how to do it straight with a man if they were left alone in a room with Paul Newman."
"Like shit I wouldn't," Sue announced. "I'd lick his cock until it fell off."
"You see?"
Sigrid shuddered, thinking of what she'd been through since she'd first been arrested. There hadn't been a normal sexual act through her entire imprisonment. She'd had everything done to her and her partners had demanded every weird sex routine there was in the world.
"So there's no out," Jackie murmured.
Sigrid squinted. "There is for me. I'll find a way."
"Good luck. Nobody goes over that electric wall. You know that. They'd only catch you and bring you back, anyhow. No six-foot blonde with a body that won't quit gets herself out of sight for long in these parts." The others nodded wisely at Jackie, their faces sad.
Sigrid frowned, her mind working faster than it had at any time since her arrest. She'd find a way. She was through letting everyone else run her life. She sat in silence staring at the others until they sensed her discomfort. Jackie came up to her, touching her cheek. Sigrid pulled away.
"Don't want to play?" the thin woman murmured. "Not tonight."
"At least you're not gone over the hill yet," Jackie continued. "But you're uncooperative, right, Sue? Sue, you getting any?"
"No, damn it," Sue rasped. "After the last time I was ready for more."
Dottie made a sound Sigrid couldn't catch, but she got the meaning.
The three left Sigrid alone and she undressed and got under the blanket. She turned her light to low-they never allowed them to be turned off completely-and stared in the semidarkness. Yes, it was time for her to do something to help herself. She fell asleep and spent a dreamless night for the first night in weeks....
Sigrid felt the eyes on her as she worked, and she wasn't alarmed. She didn't mind the eyes of the guard at all. At last she looked up directly into his face and he turned away, flushing with embarrassment.
He was the same little man she'd seen looking her over in the dining room. His Adam's apple bobbed furiously as he gulped away his discomfort, moving to another part of the humming room.
Sigrid went on with her work, for she was able to perform the simple task of stuffing envelopes with Department of Motor Vehicle bill reminder slips without disturbing her conscious mind. She'd been in the office for several days and, although it wasn't hard work, she couldn't stand it. She was bored, the time dragged and she felt an uneasiness that she knew had nothing to do with her work. She had the itch.
As she stuffed the envelopes she slowly worked her knees up and down, just a fraction of an inch, and the tiny messages were getting through to the rest of her body. She was hot-hot for a man.
She licked her lips as she raised her face. The girl who had been working by her side throughout the day smiled in a thin way. Her eyebrows were up in an invitation Sigrid had already come to recognize.
Slowly, Sigrid shook her head.
The girl looked around. There were no guards close at hand and so she turned back, her smile broader. "Come on, we're all stuck together. Why not be friends?"
"Friends, yes; lovers, no."
"Bitch." The girl, a plump blonde much smaller than Sigrid, curled her lip. "I know, you got your eyes on that screw."
Sigrid shook her head.
"Don't shit me. I saw that punk fink looking you over." She snorted. "Forget him! He can't get you a damned thing. He's too weak to even help himself."
"Fink? Is that his name?"
The blonde nodded, her hands flying all the while as she stuffed envelopes. "Henry Fink! God, but he sure fits his name. A little nothing with nobody to love."
Sigrid considered the woman's words. It was true, the guard was smaller than Sigrid, but she was accustomed to towering over some men and almost all women. Still, he seemed like a pleasant and clean little man. And-most important-he was the only man who was at all available, except for the terrible warden. She wanted nothing to do with Maples, that worm of a creature. She didn't want to be a part of his gymnasium sports any more. Her mind would snap and she'd kill him and then she'd be finished for life.
The blonde was still busy, but she's shifted her knee until it rested, safely hidden under the table, against Sigrid's thigh. She looked up blandly when Sigrid's head whirled on her. She raised her eyebrows.
"Changing your mind?"
"Take your leg away at once," Sigrid hissed. "I'll kill you if you don't." She was the new Sigrid now, tough, able to fight back.
The blonde flicked her eyes at Sigrid's sturdy body and took back the knee. "God, but your goosy. Don't tell me Jackie and her pals have been after you."
Sigrid nodded.
"Wow, the major league right off the bat. No wonder you don't want to horse with me. Still, I'd like to learn a few things. I can let you have three joints for a blow job. What do you say, missy?"
Sigrid sighed. "I say I've got to go to the stockroom for more envelopes. Need any?"
"Why not? I'll go along."
"No you won't. Stay here. I won't let you get yourself alone with me. I'd need to break off your fingers." Sigrid was enjoying playing it hard and fast and the other woman was rocked.
"Okay, keep your shirt on-if you insist."
Sigrid raised her hand and an older woman came over to her. The woman was also a prisoner but she was trusted and had been put in charge of the envelope stuffing. She peered down at Sigrid with love in her eyes.
"What is it, darling? How's about a little goose?" The blonde at Sigrid's side snarled and the woman whirled on her. "Shut your face, Betty, or I'll toss you down the hole and throw away the key."
The blonde returned to her work as Sigrid replied, "I'm out of envelopes. May I get more from the back?"
"Sure and I'll just go along. They're heavy, you know."
"I don't mind carrying them."
Sigrid had no option and the woman came with her, swaggering her hippy body as she led the way. Several of the others looked up, jealousy in their faces, as Sigrid was led into the stockroom. When the door closed the trusty whirled on her, reaching straight for Sigrid's crotch.
Sigrid leaped back, but not quite fast enough and nails raked her thigh. "Don't you touch me!" Sigrid rasped, her voice like the cocking of a carbine. "I'll blind you by tearing out your eyes if you lay a hand on me."
The heavy woman paused. "I could have you slapped into solitary for that. I got connections."
"Do it," Sigrid replied, "but I'd kill you when they let me go. If you want to take the chance, just go ahead and rough me up. But you'll regret it, I promise you."
Both women leaped when a man's voice spoke very close at hand. "What's going on back here?"
Sigrid turned to see the little guard-what was his name, Henry Fink?-standing directly behind her in the gloom of the storeroom.
"What?" the trusty purred. "Why, nothing, Henry, nothing at all. Me and my sweetie are just having a little chat, aren't we, darling?"
Sigrid knew the code of the prison and so she replied, "That's right. No trouble. Just picking up envelopes." She lifted a shoe box-sized carton of envelopes.
Fink jerked his thumb toward the front room. "Get back in there and keep your eyes on the women. You want to hold this job you'll do it, not screw around back here."
The trusty made a sour face, but she didn't give the guard any back talk. She got out, leaving them alone in the close space between the ceiling and the high shelves. The guard looked Sigrid over and his eyes rested briefly on the envelope box.
"Was she getting funny with you?" His voice was high and trembling as though he'd just done his biggest job of the week on a prisoner.
Sigrid started to deny it, but Fink interrupted. "Don't bother to lie. I know her. I know them all. They're all queer, you know. There isn't a one of them would want to be with a man, they're so queer for one another. Tell me, are you queer?"
Sigrid was startled, but she shook her head. "No, I'm normal ... as normal as I could be around here." She rolled her eyes about the room and then looked back at Henry Fink. "I think I've seen you before."
He nodded. "In the mess hall."
"Yes, you were looking at me then like you were looking at me outside a few minutes ago. What were you looking for?"
Fink stammered and flushed. "Aw, nothing. You'd only laugh.
Sigrid was amused; the man was as awkward as a schoolboy around women. No wonder they thought him so weak. He was a kid on his first date. "I wouldn't laugh at you, Henry," Sigrid purred. "Honest!"
Sigrid wondered what she was up to. Was she really so desperate that this peanut of a man excited her? Did she need his body in her body all that much? Or was she playing some new game she didn't quite understand?
He licked his lips. "You mean you wouldn't laugh if I asked you something?" His gulping was getting noisier.
She shook her head, her wheat-colored hair swirling.
He took a deep breath, held it, and then spoke in a rush of words. "You got terrific knockers and a swell ass. I want to touch 'em real bad!"
14
SIGRID WASN"T CERTAIN ABOUT HER MOTIVATION.
She knew that she would be wise to make Henry Fink her friend. In some way, he could help her realize the vague plan that was still swirling around in her head. She would need an ally if she were to break away from this losers' prison. Yet, she didn't know what she wanted to do, much less how to do it.
On the other hand, Henry Fink was a man, the first man she'd really encountered since she'd arrived at Desert Slope. It had been a long time since she'd had a reasonably normal orgasm from a normal man in the normal way. So there was sex involved in her encounter with this fellow back among the stacks of envelope boxes.
She found herself swallowing, just as Henry was. "Well," she replied, knowing she sounded foolish, "so you'd like to touch my body."
He nodded with vigor.
"We could be found out here. I ... I really don't know what to say...."
"I don't care," Henry rasped. "You got what I want. These other broads ... some of them lay it open for me, sure, but they're sick. Most of them are too fat or too skinny, at least after they've been here a while. You'll get that way, too. Bad food, no exercise. They can hurt a woman fast, unless she's real careful."
Sigrid shook her head. "I've been careful, and I intend to remain that way for as long as I stay here."
"What'd you draw, a year?"
"Yes."
"I hear you got shafted on a first offense because of that pusher, Caletti. He's a bad one."
"So I've heard," she replied dryly. There was a worming in her insides. She didn't want to let him get away. She wanted this little man, even if he did seem spineless and anything but handsome. "Uh ... about us...."
He was gulping again as his hand came out. She didn't move, because she knew where he was headed. The same place all those hands went. She felt the touch on her breast and the jangles started. They were familiar because it took so little to turn her on these days. Being cut off from a. steady diet of sex was no joke.
He looked her in the face as the fingers rested just above her nipple, which shoved hard against her blouse. She'd abandoned her brassiere some time before. "You don't mind when I do that? You really like it?" He looked as though he believed he was dreaming to be so close to such a beautiful woman.
Sigrid shook her head, making her blonde hair swirl in a deliberately coquettish movement. "No," she breathed in a hoarse voice, "I really don't mind, Henry."
"Jesus," he gulped.
"Where do you want to go?"
He moved closer and his knee came forward, into her crotch in a gentle movement. He wasn't really pushing, but simply knocking on her door to see if she'd let him in. Gently, Sigrid let her knees come apart several inches to that he could get his thigh in between hers. He came up against her mound with his upper thigh. "Jesus," he mumbled again.
"So, you do like me?" She fluttered her lashes. "I've been wondering about you ever since that first night in the mess hall. I wondered if you'd ever speak to me."
He sighed. "You really wondered that? About me?" He must have thought he was chopped liver and, she supposed, out in society he would have been little more than that.
"Of course. You're an interesting person." She would need to prop his ego if he were going to be any good.
He shook his head. "I'm a loser. I dropped out of high school. They wouldn't take me in the Army because of my feet. I couldn't even pass the test for the highway patrol. But they let me be a guard in a goddamned woman's prison. That I can handle, if I work at it. They think because I'm small that I don't have the..."
"You're not that small. What, five six?"
He nodded. "One thirty-five."
"But you're wiry, anybody can see that. Little men are fast on their feet, tough, quick reflexes."
His chest expanded somewhat. "Well, I have been a fast-mover, all right. And I don't mind saying that none of the broads in this place have ever complained about my ... equipment."
Sigrid decided on shock treatment. "You mean your cock and balls?"
He stared. "Well ... yeah...."
"Henry, I need you," she pleaded, and she wasn't the total actress as she spoke. She really did want him. Listening to him, seeing him so close, knowing that what she needed was between his legs ... all this was driving her temperature up.
He touched her other breast, giving it a small squeeze. "I like you, too, Sigrid Johnson. See? I found out about you. Your name, everything Maples has in his office."
She wrinkled her nose. "Maples. Ugh! Now, there's a human being who doesn't deserve to be called a man. Not like you, Henry."
He nodded. "I guess he ... uh ... oriented you, huh? They say he's got quite a laboratory in back of his office, but only a few people have ever seen it."
"I've seen it and I never want to see it again. You've got to help me." She seized his hand and pressed it into her right breast. The nipple liked it.
"What ... what can I do?" He licked his dry lips again. She would need to be cautious. He frightened easily.
"You can give me something ... soon ... now ... so that I won't need to turn to that awful Maples. I'm a virile woman, Henry, and I still have normal desires. I'm counting on you to help me remain this way. Please, service me!"
He looked toward the front of the room. The trusty was returning. She came to them, her hands on her hips. "What are you two up to?"
"Get back to work," Henry growled.
"I am at work, you worm. I'm responsible for my girls and I dare say Maples would be very interested to find out that guard Henry Fink had been diddling one back in the stock room. He'd probably think up some punishment for you both, wouldn't he?"
"Get out of here," Henry repeated. "She'll be back on the job in one minute. Move!"
The trusty made a face at Sigrid, warning her with her eyes that she'd pay if anybody got into trouble, and then she retreated.
When she was gone Sigrid turned back to him, clutching his hand. She wouldn't let him get away. She couldn't.
She needed to know that she was still a normal woman and only Henry could prove it to her. "I've got to go. What will we do?"
He shrugged. "I've got tower duty tonight." She bit her lower lip. "The tower in the center of the yard?"
"Sure, where'd you think?"
"Alone?"
He nodded.
"You'll be the only man watching the yard after dark to see that nobody leaves her dormitory?"
Again he nodded, but his eyes were brightening. "Yes, I think we could work it. You come to the tower and up the stairs. I'll be alone and I won't report anybody missing from her dorm. What do you say?"
"I say wonderful, darling," Sigrid murmured, shocked at her words. She was calling this man "darling" when he was no more darling to her than his penis.
He nodded with vigor, wiping his hands on his pants. "Okay. I go on at midnight, to eight in the morning. There won't be anybody else up. Minimum security and all that crap. See you at the bottom of the stairs. Just give a little whistle. I'll be listening."
Later, back in her room after dinner, Sigrid began to have doubts. She was a tramp, but she had to do something. It was better to let this man fuck her than to allow the women like Jackie and Sue to rape her. Above all, she had to remain normal and she needed a man to do that. But what a man! Henry Fink was a human zero. He was little, a loser, a nobody, a man who wasn't certain that he was a man at all. But he was better than Maples. He wasn't unkind. He was sensitive. He had feelings about himself and other people.
She would go to him.
The lights dimmed at ten and she lay quietly, determined not to go to sleep. She held her eyes open with an effort as they became heavy, knowing that it would be impossible to sleep. After all, she had a midnight date with a real man! When she opened her eyes and looked at the ticking clock on her chest of drawers she couldn't believe it was almost four in the morning. She'd slept without knowing that she slept.
Sigrid leaped from her bed and rinsed her face in the small basin. She combed her hair, put on some lipstick from the dwindling supply in her little gold tube and then she dressed carefully. She put on pants, but no brassiere, of course. She tucked her blouse in tightly to emphasize her breasts. Her cheeks needed no coloring; they had plenty of their own, so worked up had Sigrid become as she rushed through her preparations.
She went to her door and stood, listening. There was no sound and she'd expected none. The other prisoners had told her that Fanny was the only guard in the building and she slept like a draft horse. She drank herself to sleep each night, they said, and nothing short of a three-alarm fire in the barracks could rouse her.
She stepped into the hall. It was brightly lighted but there was no sound, except an occasional moan or a snore behind one closed door or another. The prison was asleep, except for one man in the tower and, possibly, another at the gate. Chances were at this hour that even the gate man was sleeping. After all, who would want to be let through in the dead of night?
As Sigrid left the building the night air hit her. It was chilly and dry. Temperatures fell sharply in the blackness of the desert and the cold penetrated so that gooseflesh jumped up on her arms. She hugged her breasts as she crept down the steps to the yard. There were lights here and there, but nothing was bright. Minimum security. Nobody was going anywhere. That wired fence was never asleep.
The guard tower in the center of the compound was casting its glow from thirty feet in the sky. She looked up and saw Henry Fink's head peering over the side, slightly distorted behind the thick glass. She hoped he had a heater inside the little room.
Sigrid crossed to the foot of the circling steps and at once the door above opened. "Hurry up," he hissed. "You're hours late."
She hurried, jiggling up the steps until she was breathless as she arrived at the top. He was waiting for her and he closed the door as soon as she popped inside. It was a cozy room complete with cot, a chair, a hot plate on which coffee simmered, a small arsenal of rifles in a locked rack, a strong mounted light and a microphone which, when turned on, could rouse the entire prison. It was the security nerve center.
Sigrid was glad she knew Henry Fink, especially when he had such an important job in such an important place.
The room was warm, the lights were low and she could hear the tiny pop of electricity from the baseboard heater. Very nice. She turned to him. He was standing against the door, rather foolishly dramatic.
"Can anyone see in?"
He shook his head. "I turned the lights down while you were coming up. Where have you been?"
She smiled. "I wanted to pick the most quiet hour and ... I needed time to make myself look right." She did a little turn like a girl on her way to the prom. "Don't I look nice?"
He was gulping again as she went to him and began to loosen his necktie. Then she was unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants. She loosened his belt and slid his fly open. His pants dropped to his knees and his shirt flopped away from his bony chest. She could count his ribs, even in the semidarkness. She jerked his pants to his ankles and shoved the shirt over his shoulders. He was trapped and, if she chose, she could have overpowered him and taken control of the prison. Wouldn't that be something!
Instead she wrapped her arms around his narrow shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. She mashed his lips back and allowed her tongue to dart into his throat. He was gurgling and gagging and completely dominated. That was how Sigrid wanted it. She wanted what sex this man could yield, but she also wanted him to depend on her for his pleasure. She had to be the boss and, by God, she was going to be.
He gasped for air. "Jesus Christ."
"Shut up," she hissed.
Her hands slipped from his shoulders, down the front of his body and, cupping her hands like a baseball catcher, Sigrid grasped his cock and balls in her palms, closing over them like a heavy blanket. He gasped again, staggering until she thought he would fall.
"Christ!"
"I said keep quiet."
"Nobody can hear," he cried, the sweat popping out on his forehead.
She massaged his balls and then circled his penis with her thumb and forefinger. She began to pump and the small thing, dark and rather dried up like a prune, began to stiffen. Henry was losing his fear in favor of desire and in seconds he was a pointed little rod. It wasn't much, but it was normal and Sigrid wanted it desperately.
She reached far between his trembling thighs and raked the crack of his buttocks. He was wheezing as she raked and pumped at the same time. Then he was falling forward to bury his face in her breasts. He was between them, like a child tucked among two comforters, sucking in her sexual warmth. He sucked a nipple as she stroked the back of his head. Then he fell to his knees and she shoved his face into her crotch.
His mouth was open and she felt his lips and then his teeth probing through her moist hairs until he was nibbling on her stiffened, soggy lips. She gritted her teeth and raised her face toward heaven.
What ecstasy!
He plunged on, his tongue out, shoving into her and, at the same time, she continued to pump his small cock. It was throbbing and she knew he was going to make it. He really was! She wanted it to be normal so she could prove something, so she jerked his head away.
"Put it in, tiger," she hissed. "All the way in!"
As she retreated to the cot he followed, coming down between his knees, his cock pointing like a hot lance. He rammed it at her gates and it shot inside easily. It wasn't large enough to be held back by Sigrid's generous cunt.
She locked her ankles and they began to work. Faster and faster they pumped, grunting softly in the semidarkness. Wildly, Sigrid hoped that there would be no emergency. It would be a weird scene if Maples should pop in on them at the instant of her climax.
He was having trouble, for he was too small to get a good purchase on the sides of her cunt. But, as he worked, he swelled even more and then she could feel the smooth sliding that told her he was getting the right stimulation. She could feel her own first orgasm coming on. She was on the cliff edge.
"Are you coming?" she rasped.
He grunted. "I'm coming!"
15
HENRY FINK WAS WHEEZING, BUT SIGRID WASN'T laughing at him. She was coming, too. Together they were tightening their loins and then she raked her nails across his back as the ripping in her vitals started.
"Jesus!" he wailed time after time.
She could feel his sperm oozing into her in rapid spurts. There wasn't the flood she'd received from Nick, but the little guy was doing his best. She felt her walls convulsing around his firm pencil of a prick, milking it as though there were hands along her vaginal canal.
In a few seconds it was all over and he lay fully on her, spent, perspiring, the sweat dripping from the point of his chin to her lips. She turned her face to one side to escape the salty stream.
"Nice going, tiger," she purred.
He blew out his cheeks. "That was some ride. I'm gonna want to do that again."
"Now? Tonight?"
He stiffened and she smiled her secret smile. He wouldn't be good for a second session, not before at least a day's rest. He shook his head. "No time. It'll be dawn before long. Gonna get caught if you don't skedaddle out of here."
"Okay, partner," she moaned. "But you're going to have to get those bones off me before I can move."
He rolled aside and she wrapped her arms lazily around his neck. She wasn't in any hurry. It was two hours before dawn. "I can't stand it here, Henry."
He frowned and looked closely into her face, his eyes slightly crossed. "Here with me?"
She traced his lips with her finger and then she pecked him on the nose with her lips. She felt no love for this man, but he had given her some satisfaction and he wasn't cruel, like all the others. And ... he had some power that she was going to need.
"No, silly, I love being with you. I can't stand Desert Slope. I've got to leave. I've simply got to."
He snorted. "A couple of hundred other broads feel the same way."
"Henry?" Her voice was small, like a child's.
"What?"
"Is that all I am to you, a broad?"
"Come on, you know that isn't so. You're a hell of a woman and I'm really ... well, honored, you might say, that you wanted me to ... fuck you." He swallowed. "I know women get hard up here, but you're good stuff, Sigrid-real good stuff. On the outside you wouldn't look twice at me, except to give me a two-bit handout."
He was probably right, but at the moment he was a big man in Sigrid's life. "That's not true. Good people always attract others. It's the cruel people I hate. I'll grant you're no Brando, but you're nice. Probably a much nicer man than Brando."
He was still peering at her, his hips against hers. She felt his cock respond slightly, losing some softness and growing a bit of a bone. "You mean that?"
"Why not? I know what you're like. You measure up very well." A poor choice of words, but he didn't seem to take offence.
"Yes, you're all right, too."
Her hips did a little wiggle as she sighed. "I certainly would like to get away from this place. Do you think you could help me?"
He sniffed. "Believe me, you're better off here than in most other state pens. This is among the best. Some of the others are strict animal farms."
She bit her lip. "You're not getting the picture."
"Huh?"
"Never mind. Let's get dressed before somebody decides to turn on the dawn an hour early."
She got up and pulled her clothing together. Because the prison garb was so rustic, she didn't look any worse than when she'd come up the stairs. She looked into a mirror and pushed her honey hair back into place. It was so dirty that she was able to control it quite easily. Henry dressed quickly and smiled across at her as he knotted his tie.
"Nobody would believe this could go on in a prison. A guard fucking an inmate, right next to a pile of rifles and other stuff. You could have grabbed a gun."
"They're locked up," she said without hesitation.
"So you noticed."
"Of course."
"Sigrid, what did you mean when you said you wanted to get out of here?" His Adam's apple was bouncing. "You mean you want to escape?"
He couldn't believe such a thing could really happen and Sigrid shook her head. "Let's forget it for now, Henry. I don't know what I thought. I'm an unhappy girl, that's all. What about you? Are you a happy man?"
He made a face. "Most of the time I'm miserable. You've never been lonely like I have, I'll bet."
"Do you want me to help from now on?" she purred, adjusting his tie with long, graceful fingers.
"Hell, yes. I'm counting on it."
She went to the door. "Very well. I'll help you if you'll help me, all right?"
"I don't get..."
"You will, Henry." She opened the door into the night. "Don't turn on any lights or sirens for a few minutes, huh? Ta!"
She crept back to her dormitory without incident. Sleeping sounds filled the corridor, despite the closed doors. As she lay on her bed her mind was working much too fast. After a piece she usually was relaxed, languid like a big cat, ready to sleep. But rushing thoughts crowded her brain.
She forced herself to turn off the thoughts and then she mused about Henry Fink and his pinkie. He wasn't really so bad and, gently massaging her still-tingling pussy, she drifted off to sleep . ...
Sigrid's plan was taking shape. She knew she couldn't remain at Desert Slope any longer. She had too many things to do and she had to save herself. If she remained at the prison for another month the Jackies, the Sues and the Dotties would bring her around to their games completely and she'd be ruined for life.
Not only that, she had things to do on the outside. She'd finally admitted to herself that Nick didn't give a damn about her. He'd used her in his narcotics pushing and everybody knew she was a sucker. She was certain the courts had thrown the book at her to get back at Nick.
The inmates were permitted to have visitors at the prison every Sunday. Several Sundays had come and gone but Nick had never come to see her. She hadn't gotten so much as a postcard from him. Nick, in short, was a worthless bastard.
Sigrid still had too much pride to let him escape punishment. She had to get him and she would, but first she had to rid herself of the chains of Desert Slope. She would have liked to have talked it over with Jackie, for the brunette was wise beyond her years and she probably knew lots of tricks to help Sigrid get away from Desert Slope. But Sigrid didn't want anybody to know what she was going to do. That could lead to capture when they later talked.
The night she finally made up her mind came about two weeks after her session in the tower with Henry Fink. She'd worked out the plan as best she could, carefully picking a few brains and being a good listener. The other women often talked about ways of getting out of Desert Slope, but most of their ideas were crazy.
Some had devised ways of escaping the electronic fence. like digging under it, breaking into the gatehouse and turning off the current, or simply running through the fence and escaping in the surrounding desert. What they didn't solve was a way to escape the desert itself. It was miles between Desert Slope and the safety of a city and any fugitive could be easily picked up as she wandered, half starving, in the desert. Certainly authorities in surrounding towns would be on the lookout, too.
No, Sigrid had a better plan. It wasn't spectacular, but it had a better chance of working-since it would take her anywhere outside the gate that she wanted to go. And she knew exactly where she wanted to go.
Two weeks after her affair with Henry, Sigrid sat in the recreation room after the evening meal. She was pensive, working out the details in her mind. She hadn't been with Henry since that night, except to whisper a few words now and then while she was stuffing envelopes. But that was part of her plan. He wanted her badly and he needed her in the worst way. She knew that and the knowledge gave her more power over him.
Deep in thought, Sigrid watched two women shooting pool, while others smoked, read magazines and sat about talking. A few knitted on sweaters to break the monotony of their prison garb. Sigrid's eyes were icy blue, shifting only occasionally . ...
"Hey, you still among the living?"
She looked up to see the fearsome threesome-Jackie, Sue and Dottie-hovering over her. They were looking down, expectant expressions on their mouths, their hands on their hips, their legs planted.
"What do you want?" Sigrid replied.
"Where you been lately, kid?" Jackie went on. "We missed you at fun and games time. Didn't we, girls."
Sue said, "We sure as hell have. I got some new ideas." Dottie simply gurgled and Sigrid got their meaning at once.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I have other things on my mind."
"What things?"
"None of your business."
The sound of Jackie's slap froze the room. A pool ball clicked another in the stillness that followed and Sigrid's hand went to her cheek. Jackie had moved so swiftly she never saw the slap, but it stung. "Everything's my business in this dorm," Jackie snapped. Then she glanced over her shoulder, speaking from the corner of her mouth. "Ain't that right, girls?"
There was a chorus of agreement from the dozen or so other women. They stood still, watching, their eyes bright. They weren't going to make any trouble and Sigrid knew that Jackie was in complete command. She could commit murder and no one would inform on her.
She turned back to Sigrid, who was cowering in her chair. She made herself sit up straight again, fighting to keep some pride. "Now, what's going on in that pretty head, honey?" Jackie asked again.
"Nothing. I'm unhappy, that's all."
"She's unhappy because we ain't been around to see her," Sue blurted and Dottie nodded her head. The silent but beautiful girl was wearing a flame red dressing gown that she'd put on after their return from dinner. She was still the movie vamp, posing for all who would watch.
"That right?" Jackie wanted to know. "Are you sore because we've neglected you?".
Sigrid shook her head.
"It's the other way around," Jackie continued. "We're sore because you've been neglecting us, honey. We don't like that and we think it's time to even things up right now, don't we girls?"
Again she looked over her shoulder and again there was total agreement from the others. She peered down at Sigrid, cupping the tall blonde's chin with her fingers. "You've been alone too much and that's bad for a woman. Anybody can tell you that. Here we're all kissing cousins. Dottie, suppose you show our proud friend here what I'm talking about."
Dottie gurgled and grunted as she came forward. At once she sat in Sigrid's lap, extending her long legs so that the flame dressing gown fell away from her thighs. She wore nothing underneath. Her arms went around Sigrid's neck before she could react and then full red lips were mashed against Sigrid's mouth. In the same instant someone grasped Sigrid's hand and pressed it up between Dot-tie's thighs.
Sigrid tried to pull away but hands held her head so that Dottie's kiss was not broken. Other hands held her legs and her free arm. Still others pressed her hand deeper between Dottie's legs until her knuckles were buried in warm, moist hairs that cushioned Dottie's cunt. The movie vamp might have been as queer as a seven-dollar bill but she was a woman and her snatch was ready for loving.
Sigrid struggled until she heard Jackie speak. "That's what we mean about being friendly, honey. Kissing cousins, all sisters under the flesh, so to speak. We don't have any secrets from anybody here, you dig?"
Dottie's fingers paraded across Sigrid's face as the vamp continued kissing her mouth. Soon the fingers were pulling at her nose and her jaw, opening her mouth so that Dottie's tongue could dart inside to lash against her teeth. Sigrid began to choke. Someone held Dottie away for an instant until Sigrid recovered and then the swishy blonde was back at work, assaulting Sigrid's face, mouth and throat with her hands and lips and teeth.
Other hands kept Sigrid prisoner as fingers worked between her body and Dottie's. There were grunts of annoyance and then Jackie was ordering, "All right, Dottie, get up. Keep working her over, if you want, but get on your feet, behind her chair, so the rest of us can do something."
Dottie left Sigrid's lap, marching behind her chair but somehow never breaking the kiss. Her strong hands bent Sigrid's face far back over the chair so that her throat was stretched and exposed. Both arms were held captive now, straight out from her body. She tried to writhe, but new hands grasped her hips once again. Even her ankles were pinned down. She might as well have been strapped to the wall of Maples' gymnasium.
The crowd closed in and Sigrid felt her body being torn by their hands. There was a tearing as her blouse was ripped open. "At least she's quit wearing that damned brassiere," Sue muttered. Other hands worked at Sigrid's waist, lifting her hips so that her skirt could be jerked down over her ankles. She was naked in seconds and a chill went over her body, despite the hot caresses.
She felt her breasts being kissed and mouths were sucking her nipples. She felt the fingers on the insides of her thighs-working, working, working...."Look at that, girls, she's starting to get all sticky down there. Come on, Sig, you can make that old orgasm for the gang. Come on, show us you're not really made of ice."
Sigrid fought them but she did have her orgasm. Who could resist the fingers that were rammed up into her pussy, violating her very soul? She was touched everywhere and, as they lifted her hips, someone's long finger darted up her anus, swished about and then was withdrawn. She heard a sucking. "Urn, even her shit tastes good."
During the orgy a door slammed and there was a slight pause. She heard Fanny's voice. "What the hell!..."
"Hi, Bucholtz," Jackie called. "Come on, we've saved you a little white meat."
Soon heavier hands were on Sigrid's body. She couldn't see, for Dottie's mouth and hands never left her face. She knew she'd be swollen everywhere by the next morning, swollen and aching, violated again by these animals. Soon she even ceased to feel and Sigrid became a sack of meal in their hands. They threw her about, used her, dripped their sex juices everywhere on her.
Then they carried her to her room, threw her down on her bed, and slipped out. Laughing and boasting about which had forced Sigrid to have her orgasm. Before she fell into a painful, fitful sleep, Sigrid had made up her mind.
Sigrid would not remain in Desert Slope prison any longer than it took her body to heal.
16
IT WAS A FEW DAYS BEFORE SIGRID WAS READY TO make her move. During that time she kept her eye on Henry Fink and, from time to time, she whispered a few words to him. His answers told her what she had to know.
Work was ending in the envelope stuffing room when he strolled close to her on the third day after her encounter with Jackie, Sue and Dottie. She lagged, closing boxes slowly as the room emptied. Then she looked about and up into his face from her seat at the long table.
"Hello, Henry," she murmured. "I've been waiting for another date."
He licked his lips as the last prisoner left the room. Even then he spoke from the corner of his mouth. "Cool it! They're cracking down on the cons and the guards screwing around. They caught Jake Lasky with a big brunette from dormitory two. They were making out in the garden behind the warden's office."
Sigrid frowned. "I can't help that. If they were too clumsy it was their own fault. I must see you, Henry. Don't say no to me this time."
Sigrid didn't like participating in a buyer's market when she was the seller. She'd expected that he would be horny enough to beg her to come and see him, after she'd not been alone with him for more than a week. Instead, Henry seemed to hold the upper hand. He was reluctant and she was forced to throw herself at him.
She touched his sleeve. "You know I was good that night in the tower. It should be even better tonight."
He pursed his lips. "I'm off tonight."
"I know. That means we can go anywhere you like. Your room, my room, anywhere but the garden behind the warden's office." She moistened her lips and gave him a shining smile. "Come on, I have some new tricks to show you."
He wiped his hands on his thighs. "Well, I don't know."
"I'll be waiting," she said. "Don't disappoint me. You'll only have one chance and then I'll need to find somebody else. Perhaps Jake Lasky."
He stiffened, his eyes trying to look hard. "We'll see."
Sigrid watched him go and, slowly, she followed until she was outdoors. It was winter and the days were short, the sun setting early so that the nights were long. That was good. Long nights, Henry's night off, Henry with a car of his own and the right to check out whenever he chose. She smiled to herself as she walked toward her dormitory.
"What's the joke?"
She turned her head as Jackie fell in at her side. "Afraid I'm doing some thinking without telling you?" Sigrid shot back.
Jackie laughed. "Take it easy, hot pants. You've paid your dues to the club. From now on you can join our side and help us work over some of the new ones."
Sigrid had been at Desert Slope long enough to join the veterans in their campaign to pervert all the new arrivals. She didn't care for any such change in status, for that meant that time was passing too quickly. No, she had to get out-tonight. If only she could trust Jackie. The smart brunette could help her so much . ...
"You're cooking something inside that blonde head," Jackie persisted. "Come on, tell mother all about it."
"I can't. No use getting you in trouble."
Jackie wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "You know, when a con talks like that there's only one reason. She's planning to run away from dear old Desert Slop. That's right, Slop, not Slope, thanks to the lousy food. You'd be a fool to try it. They'll catch you."
Sigrid kept her head straight forward as they walked and talked. "I'm not admitting a thing, but I have a plan. It ought to work."
"Getting out the gate is easy. It's getting into L.A. or somewhere else where you can lose yourself that's the hard part. How you gonna work that?" When Sigrid didn't answer, Jackie answered for her. "Henry Fink."
Now Sigrid turned to stare.
"Christ, the whole prison has been watching the sucker drool all over you. He'd step into the Grand Canyon without a parachute if you crooked your finger."
"He's being stubborn today," Sigrid admitted. "I think he knows I need him badly and he wants to play it coy. God, I wonder what his price will be."
Jackie snorted. "That's your problem, honey, but take some advice from me. Make the bastard commit himself all the way. That means all the way into downtown L.A. Don't let him collect his flesh and then turn you in. They've been known to do that. Hm ... funny!"
"What?"
"They try to hire guards who don't turn on to women. But they've got a horny warden, Lasky and now Fink. You deserve a medal for turning him into a man."
As they entered the dormitory Jackie touched Sigrid's arm. "Good luck, honey, and you're right; don't tell me or anybody else anything. If you need advice, I'll talk to you, but it's safer at both ends if nobody knows nothing. Now get out there and set the world on fire."
Sigrid found hating Jackie difficult at that moment. Even though the dark woman had tormented her mind and body, she had to have some goodness in her. Still, Sigrid couldn't hold back now. Not when she had so much to do on the outside.....
She primped before her mirror, thankful that Henry had at last gotten in touch with her. He'd waited until the evening meal was almost over before brushing past her table, where Sigrid ate alone, the other women having risen and filed toward the door a few seconds before. He made the date in a few muttered words and Sigrid had breathed in relief.
Now she gave the final touches to her hair and rose from the stool before her dresser. She pulled a sweater around her shoulders and stepped into the hall. It was quiet, for again it was late and everyone else was asleep. She crept out of the dormitory and across the compound to the small bungalow where the prison's half dozen guards lived when they were on duty.
As she stepped into the shadows of the front porch, Henry moved into the moonlight to stop her. "Hold it!"
"What's wrong?"
"Somebody's inside," he said as he hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "He told me he had a date in dorm number two after lights out, but the broad came down with the flu and so he's spending the night here." , "So what happens now?"
Henry blinked into the moonlight. "I guess we'll have to stay out here."
Sigrid shivered. "I'll freeze to death." Henry snorted. "Not after I get my hands on you."
"Really. It's almost freezing. Can't we do something."
"Well, if we're real quiet..."
"God, I won't even breathe." Sigrid hugged the sweater around her body, her fingers like ice.
He beckoned and they crossed the narrow porch and he led the way inside. There was a small entry from which four doors led, giving each guard on duty a private room. Sigrid pointed. "Surely some of them must be empty."
He shook his head. "No way. Guys on duty are in there and the guy who missed his shack-up is in the fourth. I'm supposed to be living it up in town, remember?"
Sigrid raised her eyebrows. "Then let's go."
"Nothing doing. I'm not gonna get my ass in a sling...."
Sigrid moved her hips against him, draping her long body flush with his. She knew her breasts were thrusting, her knee poking, her belly moving in and out against his. "Come on, we can have a real good time, tiger."
Henry shook his head. "Nothing doing. They'd know who did it. I'm not gonna wind up on the wrong side of the bars, lady. Not Henry Fink."
"You wouldn't get into any trouble. Who would know if I was in the trunk when you drove out the gate?"
He wiped his mouth. "I would and I'm a lousy actor."
"I'm willing to pay," Sigrid replied, lifting her chin. "Believe me, Henry, I can put you in sexual heaven."
She moved her hip. "I can tell you're already hard. That's way ahead of your progress the first time. I can turn you into a man, Henry Fink. That ought to be worth one little favor. I'll do what you ask. You want to fuck, we'll fuck. You want me to feel you all over, I'll do that. You want me to stand like a statue while you jack off, I'll do that, too. Any perversion you can dream up ... I'll be your playmate."
He blew out his cheeks. "Jesus ... I don't know."
She reached for his fly, zipping it open and reaching inside. For a moment she fumbled through his shorts, hunting for his penis before she grasped it. Ah, he was hard and that pencil was throbbing like a festering finger. She squeezed it and pulled it out into the darkness of the room.
"Uh..." he gasped, "we can't do anything here. Somebody will come in."
Sigrid sucked her lower lip as she idly fondled his prick. "I suppose you're right. Tell me, who's the soundest sleeper in the place?"
"No! That's crazy!"
"Which one?" she insisted.
"Oh, Jesus. I guess Ralph saws it off pretty good. He usually drinks himself to sleep."
Ralph! Sigrid remembered P. Ralph Baumgartner, her crooked and horny lawyer and she knew she could get some secondary pleasure out of fooling a man named Ralph. She nodded. "All right, let's get in there."
"Hell wake up."
"Not if you keep your mouth shut and let me do it all." She held his face in her fingers, kissing him lightly on the lips. She didn't like role-playing, but she needed this man and she had to get control. "Do you understand?"
He nodded, but she could feel his chin trembling.
"Where's Ralph's door?"
He pointed and this time she led the way. She turned the knob and opened the door soundlessly. Sticking her head inside, she found that the room wasn't completely dark. He had a night light plugged in above the head of the bed so that Ralph appeared to be laid out in a casket for viewing by the family. He lay flat on his back, his chin up, his mouth open. It was several seconds between each dragging, deep, drunken breath.
Sigrid turned and beckoned.
They crept inside and just after the door closed behind them they heard the outside door open and someone thumb inside. Henry plucked at her sleeve and nodded. "See what I mean?" he whispered.
"Hush," she warned, touching her finger to his lips.
It was a small room, but there was a tiny bath and she headed for it. Inside she decided to leave the door open so she would know at once if Ralph woke up. She turned, leaning against the sink."
"All right, Henry. It's your ball game. If I play by your rules I want you to help me get out of here ... before morning."
"I told you-no!"
She rasped her whisper in the half-light. "Then it's no go-"
"Wait," he hissed back, looking over his shoulder toward the bed. "All right, but I don't promise anything." He pursed his lips. "You'll do whatever I want?"
Sigrid closed her eyes a moment. Steady, girl. It's your only chance. Then she nodded.
"I want a blow job," he whispered, his voice trembling.
"What?"
"No woman has ever sucked my cock. It must be the most glorious sensation in the world to come into a girl's mouth. If you'll do just that little thing for me..."
She shuddered and hugged herself. Christ, but how low was she going to sink to get out of this place? She knew how low; as low as she had to, and she was ready. "All right."
"You'll do it?" he blurted and she had to shush him. He returned to his whispering. "You'll actually let me stick my dork between your teeth? God help you if you bite. I'll say you were raping me."
She was almost able to smile. "You'd do that, wouldn't you, you little worm? All right, whip it out again."
Henry dug inside his fly and pulled out the small hard thing that had slipped back inside as they'd crept into the bedroom. She looked down at it, knowing it wouldn't be as bad as taking a giant of a man. But, Lord, sticking a man's penis into her mouth, and then waiting until he ... she shuddered and for a moment was almost sick. If only she could heat herself up it wouldn't be so bad.
"Henry, help me! Make me hot for you."
"Hell, you were hot for me last time before I got near you," he hissed.
"That was last time. It's your turn to help me now."
He reached around her hips with both hands and fastened his fingers on her buttocks. Squeezing hard, he pulled her roughly against him. He was pumping his fingers and she waited for her nerves to turn on. But they wouldn't. She knew that she'd somehow risen above a Henry Fink. It was because she knew she was going to get back into the world where there were real men.
She let him play with her buttocks for a few seconds until he seemed to be tiring. "That's enough," she whispered.
"You're all steamed up?"
"Sure I am. Go ahead, drop your pants and we'll get this over with." She had to force the words through her lips. His buckle clanked in the shadows and again they looked out at Ralph. He might as well have been dead. Eve his face seemed waxen. Henry's pants thumped to the tile floor and his shorts went right behind, fluttering down like the dipping banner of a surrendering enemy.
Sigrid held the penis in her fingers, turning it over, this way and that, until it seemed to be fully stiff. She dipped underneath and handled his balls, fondling the small marbles until Henry was gasping and clutching at the sink so he wouldn't fall.
"My God!..."
"Sh!" she warned.
In the other room Ralph had turned over. "Who's there?" his thick cloudy voice mumbled.
They froze, Sigrid's hands on his cock and balls, neither daring to breathe. They stood for perhaps a minute until the man on the bed fell back again and, presently, they heard his deep breathing resume.
"Now," Henry rasped, "Let's get going before he really wakes up."
Sigrid stared down at the penis. It was working up and down in her hand, like the heart of a rabbit. The thing was alive with its own heart and pulse. It was weaving, twisting, looking for something to stick itself into. Sigrid knew what she had to do and again she fought back a wave of nausea.
"I ... I don't know...."
"I do. Start blowing!"
Sigrid felt his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees. The back of her head came up against the sink. She was trapped now, with no place to go . ...
17
THE SINK WAS COLD AGAINST THE BACK OF HER HEAD as Henry slid his hips forward. The cock was aiming at her face like a loaded pistol and she knew he had at least one good shot in him.
She closed her eyes as the cock struck her cheek. It worked back and forth as Henry swiveled his hips. Then he was grasping her ears. The supreme insult ... steering her as though she were some sort of a machine to be drilled.
The cock moved to the corner of her lips and then the knob, which was very hot in the cool air, was pressing directly against her mouth. She couldn't open her lips. Not if she were dying for lack of oxygen could she open her lips to that thing.
"Kiss it," he whispered. "Go ahead, pucker up. If you know what's good for you..."
Sigrid kissed. There was nothing else she could do. Her head was pinned, her ears held, her body in a position of complete subjugation. If she revolted now he'd turn her in and Maples and Fanny would be on his side. They'd toss her in the hole and violate her until she was an animal. Worse, she'd lose her chance to get away forever.
She kissed the head and Henry moaned. "How terrific ... to think that such a queen of a woman would actually be on her knees, putting her mouth on Henry Fink's cock. ... Christ!"
Sigrid opened her lips and the head was pushing, moving inside as fast as she would allow. She opened her jaws and the head was between her teeth. For an instant she began to bite, sinking her teeth gently into the flesh, until the tightening hands on her ears warned her. She released the head.
It sank deeper and soon he had the entire knob inside. It was steaming and he was gasping, his hips moving, pumping the thing back and forth. Sigrid closed her eyes tightly and tried to hold her breath. She wouldn't take any more than was absolutely necessary.
He worked hard against her face and the shaft was going deeply inside her mouth. It was heading toward her throat and then his lower belly, scratching with pubic hairs, was butting against her nose. She allowed the thing to work back and forth as she clutched his knees so she wouldn't fall. Better to get it over with.
It didn't take long, for Henry was gasping with ecstasy from the very first. "I'm coming," he whimpered.
She tried to pull away so he could come into the sink, but he clutched her ears until they hurt. She feared they would be torn from her head, so she stopped struggling. Then he was coming into her mouth.
The spurts splatted against the roof of her mouth but she was able to close her throat and keep from swallowing his jizz. In seconds he was finished and she felt the final oozing from his knob with the tip of her tongue. Then he was glaring down at her.
"Don't hold your breath. Swallow it."
Sigrid shook her head and his already softening cock popped from her mouth.
"Swallow!" he commanded, putting his knee over her mouth so she was still trapped. Finally she swallowed the sticky, sweet, sickening stuff. It slid down her throat with merciful ease, but she knew she would taste it forever.
It was over and he stepped away, allowing Sigrid to slump forward. She rested on her hands and knees, the remains of a stringer of come dangling from her mouth. She didn't care, as she wiped it away. She hated herself. But, by God, she'd pay for her freedom. She looked up.
"I want to go now," she whispered. "Quickly, before somebody comes along to ruin everything."
Henry pursed his lips as he tucked his cock inside his pants and zipped. "I don't know. It's risky. What about after we're on the outside, will you stick with me?"
She shrugged. "What else can I do? You hold all the cards. I have no one else."
"Yeah, hey, that's right, ain't it? Say, you'd be great at a party. I could get my kicks with you, honey. My pals would pay a pretty penny if I rented you out for a half hour a trick."
Sigrid loathed this man. It wasn't so terrible that he needed her body like a baby needs milk, but he didn't need money badly enough to turn her into a whore. That was pure perversion and she hated him for that. Henry Fink was no better than a Fanny or a Jackie or a Maples, once he was in a position of power. All men were alike, the bastards!...
"I want to stay with you," she whimpered, knowing she'd need to pretend for the rest of the night, until she'd rid herself of this crumb. "I'm your slave, not someone else's."
He licked his lips, rubbing his hands. He couldn't believe his good luck. "All right, let's go. I'm off duty, I got a car and I can put you in the back seat, under a blanket. They won't check on me. Tomorrow, when you're gone, they won't be able to prove anything. They'll suspect, but fuck them! I'll go down a poor man, but if I've got you licking my cock and balls all the way I couldn't care less."
Sigrid held up her hands and he lifted her. "There's my man talking," she purred, crushing a breast against his chest. "Now let's get out to that car, lover."
They crept from the room and Ralph didn't stir again. Outside they moved through the shadows back to the garage, where the prison employes' cars were lined up. Hank had a five-year-old Ford two door and Sigrid got on the floor of the back seat while he threw a robe over her.
"Don't move and keep quiet," he hissed as he started the engine. It sounded terribly loud in the middle of the night.
"Of course I won't, silly," she mumbled from below the blanket. It smelled of stale sweat and old dirt, but she could put up with anything with dreedom so close.
The car jerked backward and then forward as she felt it turn. There was the crunch of gravel as he drove toward the compound and the main gate. She could see the glow of light through the blanket as the tower man snapped on his spot. She guessed that Henry was leaning out, waving to the man in the tower, and the light soon went off again.
Then they were pulling up and there were footsteps. "My God, Henry," a man's voice muttered, "where you headed in the middle of the night?"
"Can't sleep," Henry replied. "Got the hots for my girl in town. Got to get in there while there's still some sack time left. See you day after tomorrow, Bob."
"Sure. Plug her once for me." The voice began to pull away and then it was loud again. "Hey, wait up!" Sigrid stiffened. "What girl in town? I thought you were all worked up over that big Swede who checked in a few weeks ago. She's better than anything you'd pick up in L.A."
Henry laughed nervously. "After Jake got nailed the other night I'm not playing any more games with the broads in this hole. Besides, I got tired of her. She's a lousy piece."
The guard laughed and then the car was in motion. She heard the sound of metal under the tires and she knew they were outside the electronic screen.
"Thanks for the rave review, you son of a bitch," Sigrid snapped.
"Shut up," he hissed. "The gate's still in sight."
He drove for perhaps five minutes before he pulled over and she felt the car crunch along the shoulder of the road. Shoving the blanket aside, she got up and went out the door he'd opened. She brushed at her skirt and blouse and touched her hair. It was a mess.
"I must look awful."
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him, his fingers clutching at a breast. "You look terrific, honey. I want to pour it to you right now. Think of it, Henry Fink with his own magic sex machine. Christ, I'm a millionaire!"
Sigrid pushed him away. "Later, when we get to L.A. Do you have a place there?"
He nodded. "A one-roomer, but it's got a bath and a folding bed. It'll be nice and cozy and I can even watch you going to the can. Jesus, it's gonna be heaven."
Sigrid resisted making a face. Instead she said, "Sure, Hank, but let's put miles between us and Desert Slope. I've still got a crawling feeling up the back of my neck."
He gave her breast a final squeeze and ran around to the other side of the car. Then they were moving again, zooming up Highway 99 and through the pass toward Riverside. Soon they were in Los Angeles basin and then he was pulling up before a low apartment house. It wasn't much of a place, just a few units around a swimming pool.
But it looked like heaven to Sigrid. "A pool!"
Henry braked in a carport at the rear. "Sure! Want to take a swim?"
"Yes. God, how I want to get rid of that prison grime. It'll take me a year." She felt as though she'd been behind bars for many months and she was surprised that the city was so little changed. In fact, it had been only a few weeks since she'd been arrested. Still, she had a score to settle and she was determined to strike fast, before Nick Caletti knew she was out of prison.
He led the way through a grape-stake fence from the parking area to a rear unit, close to the pool. He seemed to peer about furtively.
"Nobody knows me," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm not hot."
He almost smiled. "Too bad, I was hoping you were."
"You know what I mean. Don't worry, I'm not going to get you into trouble."
"Come on, let's get into that pool."
"What time is it?"
"After three. Nobody will hear us, unless you start screaming in ecstasy." He crooked his finger as he grinned and she shuddered, not wanting to play any more games with this man. Now that she was free his appeal had plummeted and she wanted only to escape her final prison-Henry Fink.
"Uh ... I don't have a suit, naturally." She watched as he unlocked the door and then she was urged to come inside, just ahead of him.
He pulled the Venetian blind and snapped on a low light. The place was cluttered with dirty clothes, which helped give the apartment a certain air. It was Henry Fink, all right, and she knew he wasn't good enough for her. No, Henry was going to be dumped.
He was still smiling as he rubbed his hands. "You won't be needing a suit."
Sigrid moved about restlessly. "I need a drink."
"I got beer."
"Skip it. How about a smoke?"
"Sure." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a battered pack of Salems. She took one and, as he lighted her, he allowed his little finger to tickle her under the chin. She jerked away. "Don't be goosy on me now, baby. This is the start of a beautiful friendship."
When she didn't reply he whirled on her, grasping a handful of shining hair and forcing her head back. She could have fought him off, but she didn't want to spoil it all now by being picked up for scrapping. Sigrid was forced over the edge of a table and he was ramming his knee between her legs.
"Say it, sweetheart. It's you and me together. Say the magic words."
A pulse throbbed in her throat as she nodded. "Yes, just you and me, Henry."
"Henry, darling."
She sighed. "Henry ... darling."
"Tell me now how wonderful I fuck."
Sigrid swallowed. "You're a Tarzan. Hung like a steer and fast and loaded. I've never been so fulfilled in my life as when your prick is sticking all the way up into my belly."
"Goodo," he snapped. "Now let's go for a little swim."
He released her and Sigrid slowly rubbed her head where he'd almost pulled the hair out by the roots. "I want a place that's private to undress," she told him.
"What the hell for?"
"We're not in a prison cell now," she snapped. "I'm a lady and I have a little modesty left. Where's your bathroom?"
He pointed and she went to the door, snapping on the light. It was a small place but, most important, it also had a window. "I'll be out in a minute. I think I scratched myself some place when I was on my knees in your back seat."
He studied her as she closed the door on him. Then she turned and stepped into the tub, removing her shoes so that she would be quiet. She touched the glazed window above the tub and thumbed the latch open. Then she eased it up. She unhooked the screen and swung it out. Slipping her shoes back on she got up on the edge of the tub and began to climb out the window.
She went head first and when her belly was half in the bathroom and half in a planting of broad-leafed greenery Henry's face appeared before her.
"Hi," he snapped. "Out for a nature hike?"
"Oh, my God."
"Get your ass back in there," he rasped, keeping his voice low. They always seemed to be in places where they couldn't speak loudly.
Sigrid reversed her directions and wiggled back in the window. By the time she'd stepped over the tub to the floor he was in the door. "You must think I'm a jerk," he growled. "Cunt like you would soon's knife a man in the back as look at him."
Sigrid felt tears well in her eyes and she realized it had been a long time since she'd cried. She'd been so close she couldn't give up now. "Please, I've got to get away. You must let me go."
"Screw that noise. I didn't get you out of that place so you could run out on me. Come on, shed them duds and let's get going. You can forget about the pool, unless you want to do it underwater."
She sighed and began to unbutton her blouse. She pulled it from her skirt and then his trembling hands were on her, jerking her skirt down over her hips. Her pants went with the skirt and Henry was whirling her around and bending her over the edge of the sink.
Sigrid was jackknifed, presenting her milky white buttocks to this little man. Her face was up against the bottom of the mirror so she could look into it and see him leering from behind her.
"Henry ... no!"
"Shut up," he grumbled as he unzipped his fly. "You make too much noise or give me a hard time in any way and you go back to Desert Slope, baby. Remember that next time you want to pull a stunt.
"Rut you'd be in trouble, too."
He shook his head. "No way, lady. Look at the size of you and then the size of me. I'd tell them you threatened to bash in the side of my head with a tire iron and no judge in the world would doubt me. After all, you're a giant; I'm just a runt. The court-likes the little man."
He was shoving her shoulders down and again she was bent far over the sink, her toes barely touching the floor. She was helpless, off balance and, with him hard against her backside, she was totally at his mercy.
She sobbed and a tear rolled down her cheek. This was something good. She knew that, no matter what had happened and no matter what was going to happen, she could still cry.
She was still human . ...
18
SIGRID COULD HEAR THE RUSTLE OF HIS PANTS AND then the hardness of him was pressing into her left cheek. "Feel that?" he wanted to know. "Of course."
"Don't get snotty and superior with me, baby. You're gonna really feel something in a minute. Wiggle your ass so's I can get a good bone up."
She was still crying and his reflection in the mirror was all wiggly. She sniffed and then she moved her hips to and fro, slowly and deliberately.
"Faster."
She stepped up the pace and soon she felt the little lance get harder and hotter, until it was raking across her bottom like a poker. He seized her hips and centered her bottom over his crotch. Then he came forward, watching her face in the mirror. He touched his knob against her bung hole. She winced.
"Christ, what a deal! Do I love to watch your expression while I'm giving it to you. No wonder some guys install mirrors around their beds."
He pushed harder and she could feel the insistent thing drive aside the muscles of her sphincter and begin to enter her body. Horribly enough, it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, and she remembered the treatment the three women had given her in prison. She felt the thing push on until his thighs were against the backs of her legs and his crotch was heavy on her buttocks.
"All the way," he breathed. "How is it?"
"Not so hot," she said over her shoulder. Then she stared into the mirror at his image. "Come on, put the rest of it in."
"It's all in, goddamn it!" he snarled. "Stop making fun of my size."
"Sorry, little man."
Her strategy had been to tease him into impotency, but he only became more enraged and, hence, more aggressive. He began to pound his groin hard against her and the slapping of their flesh filled the room. He was grunting with every slap and before long the final swelling of his cock filled her anal cavity. She could feel her organs being shoved to and fro as he whipped her with his penis.
"I'm coming," he announced.
"I'm not," she insisted, but she was lying. She had been made hot by his treatment and it was all she could do to keep from reaching back to tickle his balls. To hell with him. Let Tarzan make it on his own.
Soon she felt his surge and a warmth filled her bottom. She could feel her orgasm being washed with some oozing substance and then it was running down the insides of her thighs. "Good for me," he crowed. "I made it another time. Twice in one night. Bet you never had it that good before."
"I've had it a half-dozen times, Henry," she chided, "and from a man who was more of a man..." She was coming and her voice faltered. "More of a man than you..." God, her belly was tearing itself apart as she tried to fuck the hard white porcelain of the sink. "More of a man than you every day of the week..."
She expended herself and draped over the sink as he softened and slipped from her. The oozing from her rectum sickened her as her passion wore off. She had to escape from this monster before she became in worse condition than she would have been had she remained at Desert Slope.
He left her and went into the front room. After she'd cleaned herself and straightened her clothing, Sigrid followed. He was standing by a small table, leafing through a stack of mail.
"I'll need some clothes," she said.
He peered at her. "What the hell for? You're not going any place."
"But I'll be going out," she insisted. She wasn't going to be a prisoner, but she had to get something from this man before she left.
"No, you won't."
Sigrid came to a decision. He was determined to lock her up like an animal, taking his pleasure with her whenever the mood dictated. She wasn't going to put up with that. The game was all over.
"I'm leaving, Henry. Thanks for the ride, but I'm getting off now."
He dropped the mail and came over to stand toe to toe with her. "Like shit."
"I'm leaving. Get out of my way."
He hesitated and they both knew: she was larger than he and, in a fight to the finish, she could probably whip him. He licked his lips. "You step out that door and I'll get on the phone to the cops, pronto."
Sigrid looked sad as she picked up a heavy ash tray from a table at the side of the folding bed. "I'm really very sorry, Henry. Someday you'll learn not to be so greedy."
"What ... ? "
He had no time to move before her arm was swinging in an arc. His arms came up and his fist went into her belly, but not before the ash tray thudded against the side of his head. He went down like a stone and Sigrid, doubled over, staggered about gasping for breath.
Soon she straightened and looked down at her victim. He looked like a sleeping child and she knelt, feeling of his pulse. It was steady and his chest moved with his deep breaths. Then she went into the kitchen and found a length of extension cord. Hauling Henry half erect, she propped him in a wooden chair and tied his hands behind him and his ankles to the chair legs.
She left him there, his head to one side, his mouth open as spittle ran from the corner of his lips to drip on his shirt. At the door she looked out first. It was beginning to get light and she knew she'd need to hurry. Speeding back to Henry, she dug in his pants pockets until she found the keys. Then she slipped outside, around the pool and through the rear fence to the carport.
It took her a minute to figure out the car, but soon she had pulled out and was purring down the boulevard. She'd only seen the apartment a few times, when Nick had thought she was elsewhere, but she knew how to get there. He'd tried to keep the place a secret, but she'd followed him one night after they'd made love and then she'd stood outside, watching until his light winked out.
What a naive fool she'd been!
It was lighter when she parked in the alley behind his place. It was a higher, much fancier apartment than Henry's, and she slipped in the rear to find a much larger swimming pool. It would be the sort of place that was protected by a locking elevator control, so she hunted until she found the rear fire door. Luckily it opened from the outside-probably because lovers had used it to slip in and out to apartments upstairs-and she began the climb up the rear steps.
He was on the third floor front, where she'd watched his light. She crept along the corridor and, as she moved, she heard a church clock strike six. A door opened and a fat man wearing a gray business suit and carrying an attache case, hurried out. He stopped, stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled as he moved on toward the elevator.
Fuck him, Sigrid thought. If he believed she was a whore so much the better. She didn't have too much time before the police would come. When they missed her at Desert Slope and when Henry worked himself free, Nick Caletti's apartment would be high on their list of places to search for her.
She found his door. The little card above the buzzer said only "N.C." Typical of a crook, she mused as she pushed the buzzer. Her heart was fluttering and she found it difficult to breathe. What would she say to him? How could she get him to clear her voluntarily? If only she'd thought to look around Henry's place for a gun.
There was no sound from inside, so she pushed the buzzer again. She leaned on it, knowing that it would be difficult to get him out of bed, much less persuade him to clear her with the authorities. It didn't matter. She had to punish him and, being a fugitive, she'd already broken the law-really, this time.
There was movement from inside and she placed her ear against the door. Then she scratched against the panel. In a moment someone spoke.
"Who's out there?" A woman's voice.
Sigrid took another look at the apartment number and then she remembered. Someone had told her that Nick had taken up with another woman; a big redhead. "It's me," she replied, not knowing what else to say. "I've got to see Nick."
"He's not here."
"Open the door."
"Who are you?"
Sigrid saw no reason to play games. "Sigrid Johnson."
She could almost hear the gasp of surprise. After another moment of silence a latch was thrown and the door opened an inch. A pair of large green eyes looked out at her. "Who?"
"You know damned well who," Sigrid snapped and she pushed hard on the door, taking the other woman by surprise.
The door flew open and Sigrid hurried inside while the redhead was still regaining her balance. Sigrid closed the door and leaned against it, her hands behind her on the knob. Nick had a good eye for women. This one was red-haired, all right, with large green eyes. The hair was somewhat tousled and it hung over the fair forehead, but she was beautiful. She was also big. Nick liked his women big and this time he'd found himself a six-footer, at least.
"What the hell do you want?" the big woman asked, her voice low and heavy with sleep. She clutched at a purple dressing gown that was slit almost to her waist and Sigrid was ready to bet that she'd been sleeping in the buff. Perhaps she'd been lying about Nick.
"I want Nick. Where is he?"
The woman moved her red hair from side to side. "He's away. Out of town on business. Say, I thought you had been put away in prison."
"I let myself out," Sigrid snapped. "Come on. Nick's here, isn't he?"
She began to move toward the bedroom. It was a large place and there was a light streaming from a back room and she knew that was where the bed would be. It was a very mannish place with lots of dark wood and a corner bar. Nick lived well-far better than Sigrid had been living the past two months.
The redhead moved fast, planting herself before the door. "I told you, he's not here. Now get out! If he were here, he'd kill you."
Sigrid shook her head. "You've got that backwards. I want to kill him, the bastard. Where is he?"
"In St. Louis, no kidding."
Sigrid blinked. She remembered that Nick had come to the coast from St. Louis a few years before, but she had to find out for herself. "Let me look in the bedroom."
"No." The voice was still low, but now it was filled with anger and menace. "Get out before I call the police."
Sigrid looked at her adversary. "What's your name?"
"None of your business. Gladys."
"Gladys, take my advice. Pack your things and get out of here before he cons you as he did me. I'm innocent, you know."
Gladys smirked. "The jury didn't think so. Besides, Nick told me..."
"I'll bet he did. Come on, let me at him."
The big redhead planted her feet wide in the doorway, folded her arms over heavy breasts and shook her head. Sigrid studied her. She was three inches taller than she and certainly a lot heavier. But she might be slower. Sigrid walked up to the redhead until they were chin to chin and still the larger woman remained rooted to the spot.
"I'm going to look in that room."
The green eyes wavered for an instant, but then they hardened again. "Like hell! You'll need to move me."
"If you insist," Sigrid rasped as-he started to swing a slap at the fair cheek.
She'd guessed right. The arms came up to cover the face and, in the same instant, Sigrid brought her knee up hard. She caught the redhead right in the crotch, sinking her knee into that groin and feeling the stiff brush of pubic hair resist her for a split second before she struck solid flesh.
"Offf..." the redhead gasped as she bent forward and held her belly. Sigrid knew the feeling; she'd been knead often enough in the past two months. As the redhead grasped at her groin Sigrid slapped her hard on the cheeks, twice on each, swinging from far back. She was aiming a third when the big woman straightened and caught her wrist in mid-air.
Sigrid was knocked off balance and whirled around so that the long arms of the woman were wrapped around her middle from behind. The strong fingers crept up Sigrid's belly and then fastened on her breasts, squeezing hard. Sigrid cried out.
"You'll leave, won't you?" the amazon hissed into Sigrid's ear.
Sigrid shook her head, wincing in pain. "Not before I see him."
"He's gone, you idiot." She squeezed harder as Sigrid slammed her shoe down on the woman's instep. She wore only soft slippers and was therefore unprotected. She cried out and let go of Sigrid.
She let go of Sigrid's breasts and hopped about o. one foot, clutching the other as Sigrid brushed past her and inspected the bedroom. She opened a few dresser drawers and decided that some of Nick's things were missing. She could find no luggage under the bed or in the closet. So he was gone. She went back to the front room where Gladys sat on a couch, still holding her bare foot. There was a pink crescent across the instep where Sigrid's heel had come down.
"You weren't lying."
"Jesus God, no."
"What's his St. Louis address?"
Gladys shook her head, so Sigrid went to a small telephone table. Sure enough, a name and number were on the top of the pad. She picked up the phone. "Tell me the address or I call and tell him I found you in bed with another guy-Gladys stared. "How did you....."
"Jesus," Sigrid gasped. "So you really have been playing around while he's gone. That's why you were sleeping nude. Did I miss him by much?"
Gladys got up, her shoulders slumping. "Please don't say anything." She limped to another table and opened a drawer. In it was an address which she handed over. Sigrid looked at it and then stuffed it into her palm.
"Now I need something to wear and some toilet articles."
Gladys stared, her eyes filled with uncertainty. Then she seemed to make up her mind. "You don't tell him you saw me?"
"Of course not. I have his St. Louis address at my old apartment, but I obviously can't go there. But he won't know that, will he?" She was lying. Nick never gave her any address in St. Louis.
Gladys led the way back into the bedroom and, in the closet, Sigrid selected a pantsuit, a coat, shoes and lacy underthings. She also took a change of lingerie, a small case and, packing it carefully, she was ready to go.
She paused at the door, coat over her arm, case in her hand. "Take my advice. Head out of here now. He'll only screw you good."
She half-smiled. "That's why I love him; he screws me perfectly."
A flash of jealousy flickered in Sigrid's breast, but it was gone. "God help you," she murmured.
Then she went out into the unfriendly town.
19
SIGRID HAD SECOND THOUGHTS ABOUT TAKING THE CAR across the country to St. Louis. Oh, yes, she was going to St. Louis, all right. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she had to confront Nick and she had to make him help her clear her name with the authorities.
Her record was getting worse by the hour. She'd broken out of prison, clobbered a man with an ash tray and then she'd stolen his car. She had only a few dollars in her blouse pocket that she'd earned in prison, but at least she hadn't stolen it.
So she did what she thought was a very clever thing. She drove the car belonging to Henry Fink to police headquarters and there she parked it, right in among a long row of patrol cars that were lined up in the rear. She hurried away before anybody suspected what was going on. Now if Henry claimed she stole his car no court would go very hard on her.
She used a precious half dollar to get herself far away from police headquarters and, transferring several times, she rode to the very outskirts of Los Angeles, twenty miles away from the civic center. She walked from the last bus stop to Interstate 10 which, she knew, led to Interstate 15 which led to Vegas, Salt Lake and another highway that led to Denver, Kansas City and St. Louis. Tucked away in her case was an address and a telephone number.
She picked up a newspaper, but there was no news in it about her escape. She should have known. It was not yet noon and the morning papers wouldn't have gotten word about her breakout until just a short while before. Surely she had missed their deadline.
She felt like a fool standing on the freeway ramp. Never before had Sigrid stuck out her thumb for a ride; it would have been unthinkable just a few short months before. Some of her friends from back home had gone the hippie route and they'd accepted rides to almost anywhere with strangers, but Sigrid had shaken her head when they'd asked her to go along.
She looked down at herself as she stood on the shoulder of the road. She looked nice enough, for she'd taken time in a bus depot to clean herself up over a sink. The clothes she'd taken from Gladys fit her well (although the pants were just a little long) and they were neat and clean. Her case looked almost prim as it nestled against her foot.
She watched the cars whiz by and suddenly she wondered if she were breaking the law. Was it illegal to hitchhike on the California freeways? Would a patrol car pull over and ruin her whole scheme?
She didn't know, but it was too late to turn back. There was no other way to get to St. Louis and, lifting her chin and thrusting her body out like the bowsprit of a sailing vessel, Sigrid stuck out her thumb.
A car stopped immediately. It was a pickup truck and the man behind the wheel was black, wearing overalls and a funny look in his red eyes. Sigrid drew back as he leaned across the seat and opened the window closest to her.
"Hop in, honey," he drawled.
Again she shook her head. "I'm going east."
"So'm I, honey. All the way to Vegas."
Sigrid made a face. "Sorry, but I'm going to San Diego."
"Hell's bells, you're really lost. You ought to be headed south, not east." He squinted at her from under heavy brows. "You sure you're goin' ta Dago?"
She shook her head vigorously and then horns began sounding from behind the pickup. The man shrugged and slid back behind the wheel. "Guess you're afraid of a black man. I suspect that's your big problem, lady. Well, that's your loss this time."
He slammed the truck into gear and zoomed up the ramp to merge into the mile-a-minute traffic. Sigrid watched him go, ashamed. He was right and, because he was black, she'd been afraid of him. It wasn't his clothes or his dirty old truck; but because he was black.
She sighed and put her thumb out again. Several cars went by, some slowing as men turned their faces and grinned. If more than one man were in a certain car, Sigrid could see their mouths commenting to each other. Resolutely, she kept her thumb out until she saw the black and white car approaching. At once she pulled in her thumb and the cruiser slid to a stop.
The cop got out and came around the patrol car, his ticket book slapping lightly against the tan twill uniform that stretched across his thigh. He stopped before her, eyes shooting up and down. He took in the suitcase.
"Looking for a lift?" His voice was a drawl much like the Negro's had been.
She shook her head. "Well, yes, in a way. My girl friend's supposed to pick me up here."
He pursed his lips. "Dangerous place to wait for a ride. Can cause a whole string of rear-enders. Better get down to the bottom of the ramp where the traffic's slower." He did a slow grin. "And if anybody else wants to offer you a lift they can stop easier and more safely. Not that you're hitchhiking or anything like that."
After her earlier experiences with the police, Sigrid had half expected that he would pull her into his cruiser and rape her. She smiled brightly. "Thank you. I'll just do that."
"Pretty girl alone like you is asking for trouble. You realize that."
Disarmed, Sigrid blurted, "Oh, but I've just got to get to St. Louis."
He raised his eyebrows. "The bus fare isn't much."
Sigrid was wary again. She'd forgotten herself for a second. "No, I have a friend coming this way, really, officer."
He nodded. "Okay, whatever you say. Good luck, that's all. There's a lot of lonely highway across the Rockies and the Great Plains. I know. I have to drive my wife and kids back home to Kansas every summer. Luck, miss."
He left her, gliding smoothly up the ramp to the freeway. As soon as he was gone another car slid to a stop. It was long, black and it was a Cadillac. The window nearest to her hissed down automatically and the driver was staring at her.
"That cop giving you a bad time?" he called. She shook her head. "Not really. He wondered if I were hitchhiking."
He scratched his nose. "And are you."
"I guess so."
He made a face. "Yes or no, lady?"
"All right-yes!"
"Then get in if you're going east." He slid closer to the window and the door jerked open. "I can't sit here all day or I'll get my rear end shoved in."
Still feeling guilty about the black man in the pickup, Sigrid slid into the Cadillac. It smelled of leather and clean oil, a new smell she associated with the cars her father had bought every second year for as long as Sigrid could remember. She looked at the driver as they shot into the traffic.
He was middle-aged with a high forehead and a weak chin. He wore a suit with the jacket off and folded across the back seat. She settled her case against her toes.
"You can put it back there," the driver said, angling his chin toward the rear. "Plenty of room."
Sigrid worked her knees up on the seat as she swung her body around. She held the case as she looked in the back. There were a number of cartons and on them were several bound sample books filled with lengths of cloth. A traveling salesman, that was what he was.
As she lifted the case and stretched over the back of the seat to set it on the floor, she felt his hand. She should have known by now that, in her new status since her arrest, she could never leave herself exposed. His hand was placed on the back of her left thigh, hard against her pants. Before she could protest it slid around to the inside and up toward her groin.
She whipped her body away from him, leaning her back against the door. "I think I'll get out right here."
"Don't be a baby," he said. He was smirking and his belly was oozing over his belt. "I'm going all the way and you get a free ride."
"No ride with you would be free, mister."
"Sure." He spread his hands. "Look, I won't do anything you don't want me to do, okay? All you got to do is scream and I keep my hands off. Come on, now, where you headed?"
Sigrid peered at him. He had weak brown eyes that were moist. His hair was also brown and so was his suit. She was reminded of the blandness of Warden Maples, but she guessed she could protect herself against this man. "St. Louis," she murmured at last.
"Hey, you're in luck. I'm going all the way to Chi. I can buzz right through Louis without no trouble." He hooked his thumb toward the back. "I travel for a Los Angeles menswear outfit. Chellini Brothers. Ever hear of them?"
She shook her head, her hands protectively over her thighs.
"No matter. I go all the way to Chi, almost nonstop, hitting the big towns on the way back. If you want you can make the whole scene with me and I'll deliver you back to L.A." He was leering again.
Sigrid made a face. "What do you think I am, mister? You really believe I asked for a ride just because I wanted to spend my life with somebody like you?"
The driver scowled through the windshield as he swerved to avoid a young girl in a Volkswagen. "What the hell do I look like, something the cat dragged in? Why the hell shouldn't you spend some time with me? Who's talking about your life? I'm talking about a round-tripper to Chicago." He snorted. "Christ, if I'd known you were on your way to a nunnery I wouldn't have picked you up. You want out, I'll let you out."
Sigrid blinked. "I'm sorry. I'm not a prude, but I do have business in St. Louis. Can't you leave it at that? I'm not looking for any action, except from your wheels."
He made a sour face. "All right, so I'm an Eagle Scout and we're on a hike. Nobody plays any games ... unless both teams say okay."
"Both teams won't," Sigrid said with finality.
She straightened in the seat and they whizzed around Riverside, heading for the desert. She realized they were going to pass close to Desert Slope again, but she wasn't worried. It might as well have been a million miles away. She felt safe in the Cadillac, except for the driver.
He was glancing at her. At last he offered her a cigarette and she took it. "What's your name?"
"Jane Doe. What's yours?"
He laughed. "John Smith. From L.A.? "
She nodded. "But I lost my job. I'm going home to St. Louis."
He shook his head. "You don't sound like St. Louis. I know my accents, baby, because I've worked in every state in the Union. You're just not St. Louis."
"I was born and raised in Wisconsin."
"That's more like it. You look like a Norski, too."
"Make that Swedish," Sigrid snapped without thinking. She didn't need to open up to him. She would be wise to keep quiet or lie about everything.
Everything. Her life would be a lie from now until she was able to clear herself. Suppose Nick wasn't in St. Louis? She was a fool to have run off so hastily, but she couldn't stay at Desert Slope and she couldn't hang around L.A. where they were certain to be looking for her. Undoubtedly they'd already checked her apartment and Nick's. Probably Gladys had talked to the police, but Sigrid could only hope that the big redhead hadn't told them everything.
She crossed her fingers and prayed, prayed for the first time in weeks . ...
Sigrid had good luck. John Smith delivered her in St. Louis. Along the way he bought her meals and paid for everything else, but she was able to hold him off. He really wasn't such a bad guy.
One thing worried her. He read the papers every time they stopped for more than fifteen minutes. He also made phone calls along the way, to his boss back in L.A., picking up new customer contacts, he explained.
When they arrived in St. Louis Sigrid didn't know what to do. Finally John Smith suggested a small and cheap downtown hotel where she could have a room for a few dollars a night. Sigrid didn't even have that much money but if the hotel would only wait until she checked out then Nick would pay the bill. Everything depended on Nick.
He carried her single suitcase up to the room after she'd checked in. The waspish room clerk had looked her over but, seeing her good clothing and John Smith's Cadillac parked outside, he'd grunted and turned the register around so she could sign. She signed it "Jane Fair".
In the room Sigrid slumped. It wasn't much, hardly an improvement over Desert Slope, which at least had been new. The wallpaper was peeling, the bed squeaked and the toilet dripped. The view looked into a brick wall.
John Smith closed the door and put her case on a chair. As Sigrid sat on the side of the bed he came over to her. "It's my last chance to collect."
She shook her head. "Please! As of now you rate pretty good, Mr. Smith. Don't ruin everything. I don't have anything to give you."
"Like hell!"
He jerked her to her feet with surprising strength. Apparently he'd been holding his passion in check as long as he could. His hands were between her legs, shoving up into her crotch. Her pants were stuffed up against her vagina and his hand cupped her mound.
"You got something to give, all right," he grunted.
Sigrid began to sob. She couldn't start fighting all over again. What the hell, he had driven her two thousand miles and she'd done nothing but sulk and lie to him. She allowed herself to be pushed back on the bed as he struggled with the jacket of her pantsuit and then he had it open. He slid the zipper at her hips and began to jerk at her pant legs.
Her pants were tugged to her knees and he whistled. "Jesus, black panties. Baby, don't tell me you don't know what that twat between your legs is for." He pulled the panties over her hips and buried both hands in her bush. Sigrid cried out softly, not in ecstasy but in pain. He was so rough.
Soon he had his pants down and he was crawling between her legs. Sigrid closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side as he came down. She looked up once to see his long, purple cock suspended over her crotch. It was dripping his milk before he'd even made contact.
Then he was pushing it against her lips, forcing his entry. He rammed hard and again Sigrid cried out. He grunted and his sweat dripped on her cheeks. "Come on, tiger," he muttered. "You're not helping much."
She couldn't. He could have what he could take, but she wsan't going to cooperate. She wasn't....
There was a pounding at the door. "Goddamn," John Smith grunted, rolling from her and sitting up. "I didn't think the bastards would be here this early."
"What?" Sigrid gasped, trying to pull her pants up over her naked cunt.
He pulled his clothes together and went to the door, flinging it open. Two policemen stalked in, their eyes darting from John Smith to Sigrid.
"You bastards are early," John Smith complained.
One cop shrugged. "Sorry to break into your fun, pal. But remember, you called us about Sigrid Johnson. We didn't call you."
Sigrid looked at John Smith, hurt in her eyes. He shrugged in embarrassment. "Sorry, honey, but I couldn't take a chance on getting in trouble. Taking a felon over state lines and all that crap."
20
IT WAS THE SAME OLD STORY FOR SIGRID, BUT IT hadn't gotten any prettier. It was ugly, but she was helpless against them as ever.
It was late when she heard them enter the block and then they were outside her door, two of them, their eyes red with lust, their mouths drooling. She heard their propositions earlier and she'd screamed. "No!" but it hadn't done any good. Jeff and Andy, the night turnkeys in the jail, had come back to collect their pound of flesh.
Jeff, the fair one, came in first. He was thirtyish, of medium build and a carbon copy of his pal, Andy, who was the same size, only dark.
They didn't waste time. Sigrid leaped to her feet and backed into the far corner. She screamed but only empty echoes responded from the cold concrete vault. Jeff stalked her and, when she struck out with her arms he seized her wrists, twisting her around and pinning her arms behind her.
"Easy, sis," he grunted in her ear. "No need to mess up that nice outfit." She still wore her pantsuit; at least they hadn't given her another prison uniform.
She kept struggling until the other one, the dark man called Andy, planted himself before her. His hands were rolled into fists and he cocked his right arm. "How do you want it, the easy way or the hard way? We could mess you up good and nobody would blame us. You're a big one-strong, and mean. The L.A. cops know that. They warned us to be careful."
Sigrid let her head hang as his hands unbuttoned her coat. His partner kept a firm grip on her wrists, in case she were planning to try something. Her coat was pulled over her shoulders and then he was opening her blouse. Her breasts leaped into view and Jeff was leaning over her shoulder to look down at her mounds of flesh.
"Looky what we got for ourselves, Andy."
"I noticed already."
A hand went over each breast and fingers massaged her firm white flesh. No!" she gasped. "Like hell."
He worked at her hills until the nipples turned a blood red and stuck out like nails. Grunting his pleasure at her response, Andy leaned down and kissed each breast.
"What about me?" Jeff complained.
"Keep your shirt on."
"Shit, I don't want to keep my shirt on."
They shoved her pants down until they fell in a heap at her feet. Then Andy leaned forward and placed his hands on her cunt, hooking his thumbs inside the lips and spreading it open. Again he grunted his satisfaction.
He shoved forward and, instinctively, Sigrid drew her hips back, but she rammed her buttocks into Jeff's loins. She could feel his penis pressing against her backside and she wondered if he'd already opened his fly to let it all hang out.
Now Andy was sliding his zipper and his cock lashed out like a whip, thudding against her thigh. He tore at her black lace until the panties dropped to her knees. Then he moved in and his cock was threading its way through her pubic hairs, seeking her gates.
He found the target and lurched forward until the head of his pecker was fastened inside her outer lips. His penis was throbbing and she watched a small blue vein along its shank pump furiously. He pushed again and the head went all the way in and he promptly buried half his length inside her.
He was massive and she felt her canal filled to a bursting, but she tried desperately not to respond. He was moving so fast there had been little time to generate any lubrication and he was hurting her. But it was a pain that was filled with promise of sexual fulfillment. God! She didn't want it, but she couldn't turn herself off like a machine.
"I'm making progress!" he blurted to his partner.
From behind her Sigrid felt a stiffened cock against her naked buttocks. So he had been ready. They were both ready to work her over.
"So am I!" came the voice from behind her left ear.
He was sliding his cock along the crack of her buttocks, shoving hard while his partner was pressing from the front. They had Sigrid in a vise and they were turning the screws, mashing her, flattening her body as their cocks stabbed into her. The cock at her rear had found her anus and it was ramming against the protective muscles until they opened the gates and let him in.
He was gurgling and she felt his drool on her shoulder. Her skin humped into gooseflesh, but they didn't notice. Inside her body she could feel her juices warming. She again tried to keep herself turned off, but it was no use.
They were demanding action and there was no way she could prevent her loins from delivering.
The cock slapped all the way into her vagina and at once it began to pump in and out, its rhythm speeding up as each second passed. She closed her eyes again and gritted her teeth, trying to freeze her body, trying to turn it into an iceberg. But no iceberg could survive for long surrounded by such intense heat.
From the rear the other penis, somewhat smaller than the one entering Sigrid from the front door, was shoving its way past her anus. The head worked inside and then traveled up her canal, working directly into her vitals. For a crazy moment she hoped the two cocks would run into one another and explode. She'd give up her life to maim them.
"Admit you love it, baby," Andy hissed into her face, spraying her with fine spit as he worked. "You Southern California sluts are all the same. We know how you live out there, shacking up with any guy who knocks at your door. Free love all over the place, right?"
Sigrid spat directly into his face. Then she snarled, "Oh, yes, we're terrible people. Certainly we're not all gentle folk, real gentlemen like the cops in St. Louis. Wait until I report this to your..."
"Fuck that noise," snarled Jeff. "One word from you and we cut out your tongue, hear, sugar? Not that anybody would believe a jailbird chippy like you. Christ, one look at your body and any judge would know you've been doing but one thing since you turned sixteen ... maybe fourteen."
Sigrid squirmed and tried to reach the shank of his cock with her imprisoned hands, but he tightened his grip and twisted until the pain made her stop.
The cop at her buttocks was all the way in and now he joined his partner in the pumping. They worked furiously and their grunts of pleasure filled the small cell. Sigrid cried out, for they were hurting her and she feared that things inside her body would be torn.
Then the man fucking her began to come. She felt his final ballooning of pleasure before a thick wad of sperm splattered against the wall of her womb. She felt its wet flush fill her canal and try to force itself into the tight space between his cock and the walls of her vagina.
From the rear she received the second blast an instant later. She wondered for an insane second if her intestines would burst as another wad forced its way up toward her belly.
She screamed and again only echoes answered her cries for help.
Finally the dripping cock inside her vagina was pulled out and it dripped its final sperm down her thigh in a thick, milky mass. The cop behind her was still pumping and he managed a second brief orgasm before he gave up. Spent and gasping, he drew himself from her and, in the same instant, he released her wrists.
Sigrid slumped against the cement corner as they stood before her, their cocks dripping and sagging. They wiped themselves off with handkerchiefs and tucked their pricks back inside their pants. Zippers hissed like rattlesnakes.
They grinned at each other. "All right."
"You know it!"
"Too bad we won't have her for long. I could use a blast like this every night. Christ, I'd even volunteer to work my night off if this sweetheart would service me regular. My wife can't hold a candle to this electric light."
His partner nodded. "Anyhow, we got a shot at her. When's that bird coming into town?"
"First thing in the morning, the sergeant said. By car. Guess they don't want to waste air fare on this slut. She'd be worth it to me, if I were that warden. I'd want her back inside my walls pronto."
They backed away from Sigrid and watched as she crept to her bunk and fell across it, half-stumbling as her pants pinned her ankles together. She heard the clang of the door and their steps fade down the corridor. There was another more distant clang and then silence.
Sigrid tried to cry, but, once again, she'd forgotten how. She had no more tears for herself or anyone else. So they were going to take her back to California. She'd see about that. She had business with one Nick Caletti and she wouldn't give up until it was settled.
Whoever had drawn the assignment to drive her back to California was going to have a fight on his hands. She wasn't going to allow herself to be taken from St. Louis and, in addition, she wasn't going to let another filthy cop rape her at every motel along the way.
Painfully, Sigrid took off the rest of her clothes and staggered to the sink. There she ran the water until it was reasonably hot and she bathed herself, slopping as much water on the concrete floor as she did herself. At least the towel was clean and, eventually, so was Sigrid. She brushed at her wrinkled pantsuit and laid it out on a chair. Her black panties were ruined, but she had others in her case.
She fell into a fitful sleep at last, wondering what the next day would bring. How could she escape? How could she free herself another time to get back at Nick? She had nightmares until they woke her at dawn . ...
She fought every inch of the way, but there were too many of them and, eventually they put her into a restraining jacket. She was placed in a special holding cell, a chain running from her ankle to a ring in the concrete wall, an there she waited for their next move.
It came in the middle of the day when four policemen entered her cell, followed by a man in a dark suit. The me in uniform seemed to defer to the plainclothesman as the pointed out Sigrid.
"There she is, Cannon," a sergeant muttered, hooking his thumb toward Sigrid. "Don't let the fancy clothes fool you. She's an alley cat. Last night a couple of my people tried to feed her and she fought like hell."
"Maybe she's trying to work her way into a psych ward, sarge," another cop said, pushing his cap to the back of his head. "They get better food in the nuthouse."
"Who knows? Who cares? Just get her out of here will you?" the sergeant muttered to the man in the business suit. "We've had enough of her."
The man frowned at Sigrid. "Did you really need t chain her like an animal? By God, that would turn me into a fighter too."
"She started spitting before we brought out the chain mister," the sergeant retorted. "Come on, take her away My guys will help you get her into the car. Front seat o back?"
"Front." The man rubbed his chin. "Keep your jacket and I'll cuff her."
"Shell run you off the road," another cop remarked "We'll see."
They unchained Sigrid and, hauling her to her fee with a policeman on each arm, they marched her out of the cell. At the booking desk she signed a paper and the-handed her her case and a large envelope. The man in the suit opened the envelope and took out her purse. He emptied it on the counter and looked at Sigrid.
"Everything here?" His voice was low and somewhat cold, as though he'd been dealing with women like Sigrid for a long time.
Sigrid curled her lip at him. "These crooks probably stole everything of value."
"Look it over," he snapped. "Tell me if anything's missing."
Sigrid sullenly stared at the pile of personal goods, all her possessions in the world: a too thin wallet, comb, compact, lipstick, handkerchief, keys to an apartment she no longer had . ... She nodded.
"Let's go."
He took her arm and they went outside. It was cold and gray in downtown St. Louis and the streets looked much dirtier and older than in Los Angeles. There was a buff-colored sedan at the curb with a small seal of the State of California on the door.
He opened it and, glancing at her cuffed wrists, he took her elbow. Sigrid pulled away. "I can manage." With an effort and a painful bump of her forehead, she squirmed inside, sitting on her hands as she leaned back against the seat. She looked down at herself, seeing her breasts, straining against the front of her pantsuit jacket. How long would it be before this next cop would have his hands all over her?
Out on the sidewalk the sergeant handed the man from California a clipboard and a pen. The man scribbled on it and handed them back. The sergeant saluted. "Good luck and, remember, be on your guard. She doesn't want to leave St. Louis without seeing her boy friend."
The man nodded. "I wish you could pick up that bastard on a rap that would stick. I suspect he's the real cause of all her problems."
The sergeant guffawed. "After a look at this baby in action, I figure she's the one who taught Nick Caletti how to go bad."
The man got into the driver's seat and, with a final wave, he piloted the car into the downtown traffic. Sigrid sat, silent and tense, until he stopped at the first traffic light. There would be no better chance.
Twisting her body, she gripped the door handle and pulled. The door gave way, swinging out so that Sigrid fell out onto the pavement. She rolled with the impact and felt little pain as her shoulder hit. She managed to keep her head from bouncing and then she was drawing her legs up under her.
As she rose she saw him coming across the seat, groping. As he leaped out she began to run, threading among cars halted at the light. Their drivers honked at the chase, but Sigrid knew she was losing. As she hopped up on the curb a big cop wrapped his arms around her and, an instant later, the driver of her car was at her side.
"She's all right," he snapped at the big cop. "Take your hands off her."
"Say, ain't this that junk broad from California?" the cop wanted to know.
"Just leave her alone. I'm in charge of this prisoner." He took Sigrid's arm and turned her back toward the street. "Now, get going, back into that car, and stop behaving like an animal."
Sigrid blinked at him and then allowed herself to be marched to the car. He shoved her inside and closed the door. This time she heard him lock it from the outside. Then he was behind the wheel, grumbling at the horns of the cars piled up behind them.
As they got under way, Sigrid muttered, "Haven't you heard, I am an animal."
As they rolled toward a highway leading west, he took a quick look at her. "Where's your pride? If you're going to be an animal those cops will treat you like one. They'll maul you, ride you, dig in their spurs. If you're innocent, act like you are. Can't you understand that?"
Sigrid stared at him for several minutes.
21
"BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," SHE EXCLAIMED, spreading her hands. "I've got to get back to St. Louis-any way that I can. I've got to find Nick Caletti and make him talk."
The man called Cannon shook his head as he hunched over the wheel. They were already in western Missouri, heading for California at a mile a minute. "What do you expect him to say? He wouldn't say as much now as he did at the trial, and that was next to nothing."
She blinked. "You know about the trial?"
"I read the transcript after you were sentenced. It seemed unusual that a first offender would be sent to prison, especially with such weak evidence. I figured they sent you up because they were angry about Caletti getting off the hook."
"You're exactly right. I'm innocent, you know."
He shrugged. "I doubt that."
Sigrid told him all about her relationship with Nick, how she didn't know what was in the cases he left in her apartment and how Nick lied to the police. "I wanted to kill him, if it came to that."
"Kill him and they'll put you away for life, maybe worse, if California starts gassing people again." Again he shook his head. "No, you were guilty, but the punishment was too severe. A fine and probation would have been better for you. You could have gone home to Minnesota and straightened yourself out."
Sigrid took another look at the driver. "What's your name?"
"Ed Cannon. I'm a special agent for the state and my orders are to bring you back to California in one piece, so that you can complete your sentence." He glanced at her. "It's going to be longer, you understand."
"Sure, because I broke out. I'll do it again."
"Probably not. You've blown your word to them and they'll put you in a tougher place that will make Desert Slope seem like a health spa."
He was a bit taller than Sigrid, just under six feet, medium weight, brown hair and eyes with a very frosty look that told her he was a pro at his job. She wondered how long it would be before the proposition came. It would come, all right. None of them had passed up the chance so far.
"But you think I'm guilty?"
He nodded. "Every con says he's innocent. I can't take your word for it. Sure, I read the transcript, but I think the evidence was fair. Only the punishment was too tough."
Sigrid sniffed. "You cops are all alike. Screw you, mister!"
He half-smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. "That'll have to wait until after lunch. I'm hungry, aren't you?" He eased his foot from the accelerator.
She shook her head.
"You sure? I know those jailhouse breakfasts."
"I'm not accepting any food from you, buster-or from anybody else in California." She knew she was behaving like a foolish child, but it was all Sigrid had left.
He pulled off the expressway into a Stuckey's roadside restaurant. "Come on," he said, opening his door.
"I said no and I meant it."
He shrugged. "You can't make me mad, Miss Johnson. I'll have to lock you in the car."
"I don't give a damn."
He got out and slammed his door. The lock clicked and he turned away without a final glance at her. Inside the car she could smell ham and fried potatoes faintly and her mouth watered. To hell with them. She would die and let them face the scandal of explaining what happened to their precious prisoner. The man with her wasn't a bad cop, but he'd get his cock into her in time. He'd collect before turning her in. She rolled his name around on her tongue. Ed Cannon. Edward Cannon . ...
He returned with something wrapped in a napkin, thrusting it at her. "What's that?" she blurted.
"Ham sandwich ... for you."
"Shove it."
He narrowed his eyes. "You keep that up and somebody's going to put you over his knee and smack some manners back into that hide of yours. Your background gave you good marks in the citizenship department."
"Your prison system knocked them out of me," she snapped. "I'm not apologizing for a thing...."
"Because you're innocent, I know."
"You bet your ass, cop...." She slumped in the seat for the rest of the afternoon.
They were in the middle of Kansas when it turned dark and he pulled off at Salina, coasting along motel row until he found a modest but clean looking place.
Sigrid was still puzzled. He hadn't touched her since she tried to break away. Not once had he brushed his hand across her thigh or dug his thumb into a breast. He'd kept his distance, commanding her to head for the ladies' room when they stopped for gas, and suggesting that she eat something. The ham sandwich lay in the hack of the car untouched.
As he pulled into the motel she looked around. It didn't seem to be an ordinary place. It was very small and each unit was brightly lighted. He pointed. "Special place. Approved for women prisoners in towns where there's no jail to keep them overnight. Salina's filled right now, so we stay here. If I knew you'd behave we could stay in a regular place."
"Sharing the same bed, I presume." She deliberately avoided swearing; his lecture had hit home and, deep inside, she'd been ashamed.
He shook his head. "No, thanks. I've got enough problems without playing with the merchandise."
Sigrid smirked. "Don't tell me I'm with a fairy cop."
"I won't answer that," he growled, stepping from the car. He locked his door and disappeared into an office. He returned a moment later, opening her door. "Get out!" He unlocked her cuffs.
She got out and he pointed at a cafe across the street. "Last chance for a meal until morning."
Her stomach was growling in protest, but she shook her head. "Okay, Miss Johnson, let's head for number seven."
Ah, here it comes, she mused. He'd just go into number seven with her-to stand guard, of course-and then he'd rape her ... just like the others.
He did go into the room with her, closing the door before looking around. She followed him as he pointed out the special features. "Not many people know about these dual purpose places. They're subtle. See? Heavy mesh over each window. No way to cut your way out. I'll lock the door from the outside and please notice it's a metal door. Don't bother to try to escape. The state will only get a bill for what you damage, if you do, and the state's sore enough at you already, Miss Johnson."
She stared as he went to the door. He turned one last time. "No food?"
"No food," she murmured.
He went out and the lock shot home. She went to the door and turned the knob and the inside lock. A second lock-outside-was doing the job. She inspected the windows. They really were breakout proof, each set in metal frames. There was no place to hide outside the unit, either. The security was a lot better than Desert Slope.
Sigrid prepared for bed at once. That was the only way she could forget how hungry she was. She took a long, hot shower and crawled between crisp clean sheets in the nude. As she turned out the light she mused about Edward Cannon. Slowly, she pumped her thighs ... and again she thought about Ed Cannon.
For a few erotic moments before she drifted off to sleep she hoped he wasn't a queer....
She awoke early and alert, her mind as busy as her still growling stomach. As she packed she slipped the heavy glass ash tray inside her pantsuit jacket. A similar object had worked for her before.
She was just dressed and peering out into the early light when a tapping sounded at the door. She let him in and he looked around. "Good for you. Thanks for not breaking up the place. I would have gotten my fanny chewed by the captain in Sacramento."
Instead of being sarcastic, Sigrid hung her head. "I wouldn't want that to happen," she breathed.
He cocked his eye at her. "Don't give me any of that. You hate my guts."
She shook her head, still slumped as though thoroughly cowed. "No, you've been fair to me. And you told me to act like a lady. I'm determined to do that from now on.
"Are you starving?" he muttered, his voice gruff as though such sweet words offended him.
She smiled. "Only for a day-old ham sandwich."
"You sure?"
She nodded as he picked up her case and took her out to the car. He handed her the sandwich and locked her inside as he went across the street for breakfast. When he returned he brought a carton of coffee and a couple of glazed doughnuts, which he shared with her.
"I've got to hold myself back to keep from eating like a pig," she muttered when the food was half gone. As they finished he prepared to start the engine. "One more thing."
He got out the handcuffs and she held out her wrists. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she exclaimed. "You're the boss. I have a terrible track record. Can't be trusted. That's what it says on the scratch sheet."
The morning passed quickly and, for Sigrid, there was guilt about her plans, but she resolved to carry them through. When they'd had lunch, seated in an intimate booth and he still hadn't touched her, she had to ask him the question. Why?
He looked at her with his frosty eyes, but they weren't really cold, just touch and ... perhaps ... gentle at the same time. "I manage all right without taking advantage of women wearing handcuffs," he said at last. His voice sounded thick and she knew he didn't find her unattractive.
"You're a rare bird. Why so cautious?"
He waved at the waitress and paid their check as Sigrid rose and stretched. She caught him looking at her breasts as they pressed hard against her jacket. As they went outside he continued.
"I have some experience with women, Miss Johnson. I was married until a couple of years ago. She ran off with a sailor and, right then, I decided that I'd keep my sex on a higher plane. Anything to forget about Lola."
"Maybe you're still in love with her, huh?"
He frowned as he opened the car door. "No. I've thought about that. No, but it's still a painful memory, a blow to the ego to lose one's wife to a sailor ... just like in the cheap movies. I had thought she was made of better stuff and that I'd had more to offer. But she didn't seem to think so." He closed the door and went around the car, getting in the other side. He was still pensive. "Anyhow, I don't need Lola's kind any more."
Sigrid grimaced. "Thanks a whole lot."
He smiled. "I didn't mean you. I just keep my pleasure separate from work, that's all. It proves that in twenty-eight years I've learned something."
He got out the handcuffs and showed them to her. "Do we really need these any more?"
Sigrid shook her head hard so her honey hair almost slapped him in the nose. "Not as far as I'm concerned."
He stuck them back in his pocket and started the car. Everything was working beautifully, but Sigrid wondered why she wasn't feeling better about her scheme. Damn it! If only Ed Cannon were a person like those cops in St. Louis, or that worm P. Ralph Baumgartner, or Warren Maples ... or Henry Fink. Working her trap would be much easier.
They sped across the Great Plains, heading for Denver and, far to the west, they could see the Front Range that signaled the start of the Rockies. The time and place seemed about right and she was ready when they turned into a remote gas station just off the interstate. It was the perfect spot, off by itself, except for a cafe on one side of the station. Even the rest rooms were in the right place, on the side opposite the cafe.
As Cannon watched the attendant fill the tank she went around the corner. At the door of the rest room she turned the knob to the ladies' side and it opened. Pulling a scarf from her pocket, she wrapped it around the glass ash tray and swung her weapon experimentally. Then she closed the door.
Carrying the scarf and tray casually behind her back, Sigrid returned to the front, hurrying so that the attendant was still checking the oil. "The door's stuck," Sigrid said to Cannon. "Come help me."
"I'll get it, miss," the attendant said. He was a young blonde man whose eyes ran up and down Sigrid's frame.
"Keep on with what you're doing," Cannon told him. "I'll let her in. We've got to get moving." It was getting late.
Sigrid followed him around the side, seeing that he really didn't seem to be in a hurry. He stretched and looked at the sky. "Going to be a cold night. You can tell because the first star is blue. That's what they say on the plains."
Sigrid bit her lips because he was annoying her terribly. She had to finish it at once or it would be too late. "Come on-the door," she blurted.
"All right," he said. "Why didn't you say it was an emergency?"
He went to the door as she stepped behind him. His hand turned the knob and the door pushed in easily. He half turned, muttering, "I don't see what..."
Sigrid swung the scarf with its leaden weight, closing her eyes an instant before it hit him on top of the head. He staggered against the side of the building, clutching his head. "Hey, what the hell . ... ! "
He sat down, still shaking his head, trying to focus on her. There was nothing to do but hit him again, and she did. In the same spot, splitting the skin so that a trail of blood rolled over his forehead and along the side of his nose. Ed Cannon never felt it. He was out cold.
She dragged him into the women's rest room and there she tore up the scarf and gagged him. She also handcuffed his wrists to a metal bar under the sink. As she finished she stood, lines of worry across her forehead. He was still motionless, so she felt of his wrist. His pulse was fluttering but strong enough. She wiped the blood from his nose with her wrist and rinsed her hand. Almost reluctantly, she left him.
Outside the attendant was waiting by the car. Sigrid tossed him a dazzling smile, hooking her thumb back toward the rest rooms. "That cheap crumb won't even run next door for a couple of sandwiches." She dug in her purse and pulled out a dollar, presenting it with another winsome smile. "Ham on rye?"
"Why not?" he blurted, snatching the dollar and hurrying around the corner, out of sight.
Sigrid waited five seconds and then she got into the car and turned the key. Thank God it started and she moved out of the station, along the interstate ramp and out to the highway. She pointed the car east, toward St. Louis.
Success hadn't given her the lift she'd wanted, and she brooded behind the wheel. Perhaps she was being a fool about hoping to make Nick Caletti say something to clear her. Worms like him never broke their own dirty code of silence.
Angrily, she shook off thoughts of Edward Cannon lying unconscious and bleeding in the rest room. A lousy place to wake up-if he woke up at all . ...
A chill of fear and dismay ripped through Sigrid's body and she gripped the wheel harder.
22
IT WAS PERHAPS FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE SHE WHIPPED the wheel around, crashed through the divider and U-turned on Interstate 70, fifty miles east of Denver.
She ripped the car along the concrete at eighty miles an hour until she came to the ramp and careened into it, almost going through the guard rail. She screeched to a halt before the station and the young man popped out of the shelter, his face wide open in surprise.
He stared. "Hey, back so soon? I got your ham on rye. What happened to your friend?"
"Get out of my way," Sigrid blurted, shoving him aside as she raced toward the rest room.
She broke in just as Cannon was struggling to sit up. He was shaking his head, his eyes still unfocused, and the blood was dry on his nose. A few drops had splattered his collar. She knelt by his side, touching his cheek with tender fingers.
"Are you all right?"
He made a face. "My head! ... Unfortunately for you, lady, I remember everything."
"I don't care about that." she cried, digging in his pockets until she found the key. She opened his cuffs and freed her victim, propping him against the wall. The boy appeared behind her. "Jesus Christ!"
"Shut up and bring your first-aid kit," Sigrid cried. "Can't you see he's hurt?"
Her heart was thumping heavily as she touched him again . ...
She was still driving and he was at her side, the back of his head resting against the seat. From time to time he opened his eyes as they talked. "I still don't understand why you came back."
She shrugged. "I was afraid you'd die. I didn't want a murder rap on my hands."
"The kid would have found me pretty fast ... or a woman on her way to the can."
"All right," she snapped, all her attention seemingly on the highway as they entered the outskirts of Denver. "So I'm soft in the head. So you didn't kick me in the teeth like all the others. That deserves a change of heart, doesn't it?" She glanced toward his head; the bandages were stark in the darkness. "Speaking of heads..."
"Forget it. I'll be all right. But you're in a lot of trouble, especially since you came back for me. I'll have to tell them, you know."
She lifted her chin. "That's up to you. Tell them what you please. I'm through running."
They pulled into a downtown motel, just a few blocks from the state capitol, and it was beginning to snow lightly. She looked at the sky as the porter picked up their luggage and escorted them to the elevator. "You were right."
"Sure. Lots of snow by morning. Plenty, you'll see." They were silent in the elevator, but the porter kept looking at Cannon's head. "You gonna need something special, mister?" he said at last. "For the head, I mean."
The elevator stopped at four and they got out. Cannon smiled at their sliding door. "A bottle of Scotch and two glasses should fix everything." He handed the man a twenty.
"Mister, that'll pay for a couple of hot chicken dinners, too. Suppose I bring 'em up along with the Scotch?"
"Suppose you do," Sigrid blurted. "Suddenly I'm starving...."
She watched him lick his fingers clean as she sat back from the small table. She felt awfully good. "How's your head?" she murmured.
"I keep telling you, it's all right."
Sigrid got up and went around the table, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry. Why did I want to hurt what I love?"
He pulled her down in his lap and at once they kissed, their lips mashing, her arms tightly around his neck. He was breathing heavily in seconds and so was she as she pulled her face away.
"You're what I want, Ed ... what I need...."
"I know that," he muttered into her golden hair as his hand went inside her jacket. She helped him open her blouse and then slide the zipper at her hips. He exposed her middle and they looked down into her center of pleasure. He ran his hands through the golden nest as though he were sifting rare coins through his fingers.
Then the glorious night really started.
They removed all their clothes and went to bed, where she tenderly pulled down the coverlet. She stretched out, hands linked over her head. And he lay upon her. His hands explored every hill and hollow, as her soft moans kept him informed of the effectiveness of his caresses.
"Yes, yes!" she cried. He was unlocking her as no man ever had. Not Nick, none of the others. This man's touch was instant magic.
Her hands were busy, too, reaching for his penis and stroking it as though it were her very own baby. For that night it was her baby and she lavished every tender care on it. It was like a hot stone as she thrust it between her legs, imploring him to hurry.
"There's no need to hurry," he muttered into her hair, and he taught Sigrid the real beauty of sex. No rushing, no rough handling, no frantic urge to climax before the other partner. It was all so ... natural, They pumped in a slow rhythm, not worrying, letting nature do its magic. Soon they wore at their peaks and then their flow came together. It was the supreme orgasm of Sigrid's young-but experienced-life. She came again and again . ...
During the night they awoke in each other's arms. She again stroked his penis, fondling his balls as though they were jewels. Soon he was ready again and again they made love. Even the word "fuck," as it formed in Sigrid's mind, sounded beautiful.
When it was over and he was sleeping, tears ran down Sigrid's cheeks. In the morning they would be on their way, she to prison, he to his own world. She'd found the right man far too late . ... Damn ittoo late!
It was snowing heavily when they awoke and, as he went to the phone to talk to his office in California, the porter appeared at the door. Sigrid held her robe closely about her body as he handed her a tray heaped with toast, breakfast rolls and a pot of fresh coffee.
Sigrid's smile of thanks was forced, even as he gave her a bit of good news. The news was a reprieve, nothing more.
"Sigrid!" Ed shouted as he dropped the phone to its cradle. "It's happened. Lightning has struck!" He rushed to her and whooped again, almost crushing her in his arms.
"You're crazy," she exclaimed, "What is it?"
"Just listen. Nick Caletti showed up back in L.A. He surprised his girl friend and her lover in the apartment and went out of his head. The other guy got away, but Nick shot the girl and then turned the gun on himself after the cops trapped him in the back alley."
Sigrid buried her face in her hands. "How awful! Poor Gladys!..."
"Not really. She's going to recover and so is Nick. He chickened and shot himself in the side but, when he thought he was going to cash in, he blurted the truth for the first time in his miserable life. He said his girl friend was innocent of any crime and that you were, too. He told the full story of how he framed you, leaving you to take the rap, with that case hidden in your apartment. He named names and they picked up some other people who backed his story."
Sigrid's mind was racing.
"I figure that clears you, except for the jailbreak," Ed continued, his eyes dancing. "The court should be able to dismiss that quickly enough when we get home."
Home! The word sounded beautiful to Sigrid, and then she smiled a pixy smile. "Guess what the porter told me? We're snowed in, maybe for three or four days-at least."
Ed grinned and then he looked at the steaming tray of food. "You want to eat now or later?"
She crooked her finger at him. "Later, of course."
