Now he was on his side, and she was enveloping the great knob in her mouth. With one hand she softly, lightly went back and forth on the straining length of dick, while the other hand explored and tickled all of the sensitive nerves in his crotch and on his thighs.
His tongue and lips were searching blindly but purposefully over the lips between her legs, into the wet and hot cunt and out again. He got the erect clitoris between his lips, massaged it until she moaned with delight and was ready to explode, then dropped it and tormented the sensitive lips and valleys around it. Time after time he took her to the summit but would not let her leap off into the "thin air of bliss.
When he felt her body quiver uncontrollably and realized she was about to faint, he reversed his body quickly, and in one endless motion sank his great shaft to the hilt and began long, deep strokes without changing the momentum.
She was coming in spasms of wetness that he could feel dripping down his testicles, but he had no intention of letting up. He poured his own liquid fuel to the fire and still kept the rhythmic pumping at a killing pace.
Her face was wet now with her tears, and her head rolled from side to side, but she continued to roll and grind her hips under him. Her chin jutted up into the air, straining every muscle in her body, and she cried under her gasps.
"Oh, God, God, God, I've got to come again, but I can't ... "
Grant raised upon his knees now and gripped her tighter behind the sweating hips.
He pulled her body as a unit into his crotch as the knob of his cock searched for even more unexplored nerves deeply within her.
And then they were both coming again and panting and thrusting their bodies at each other, like weapons....
CHAPTER ONE
Grant Morgan was one of those fortunate people that always look mature and yet a little younger than they really are.
Like a sedan that is brought in the garage each night and cleaned up, the body never betrayed the miles of rough road the eyes had seen.
He was a manufacturer's representative. Or traveling salesman, if you prefer. He was not the typical picture of the hard working salesman, slaving for his employer in the daytime and nursing ulcers in a cheap hotel at night.
Rather, Grant Morgan preferred to make a satisfactory income and still leave enough time for his real interests: women and traveling, in that order.
Traveling as a representative for a lock manufacturer gave him a perfect opportunity to indulge himself. He traveled the eastern states, mostly, from New York to Florida and as far west as Louisville, Indianapolis, Chicago.
His employer constantly reminded him that he could make twice as much money if he "properly applied his full energies" and sold more contracts to the wholesalers and manufacturers.
"What you mean is kiss asses an extra six hours each night trying to con some bigshit peanut machine maker into using Blessitt locks in his machines. And cut my commission in the deal. No thanks! If I'm going to take somebody out for wine and steak on my expense account there's going to be something in it for me!"
"Isn't your expense account adequate, Grant?"
"Adequate is the word you used. I prefer plentiful."
"You're pussy happy, Morgan! I'm giving you an expense account to help you sell locks! To make Blessitt a famous name in locks! Padlocks! Cylinder locks! Safe locks! You seem to prefer to get. us a reputation for running a stud service! Is that what you want? Is that what you ... "
"Are you really giving me my choice, Chet?" Grant turned on his well-known smile.
"Get the hell out of here and go sell some locks, you oversexed cockhound! We both know you're just holding me up for more money so give me a couple of weeks to see what I can do. Meanwhile, there's a coin machine manufacturers group meeting in the Armory in Louisville. Get your ass down there and make some points for us. I don't care who you sleep with down there but please get us some contracts in the daytime!"
When Grant returned to the home office in New York there was something different about him. He was more serious and preoccupied than usual.
Even Chet Blessitt noticed it, but he didn't mention it. He hoped it was a change for the better and told Grant to spend a few days around the office and touring the plant, along with some other salesmen, getting familiar with a new model they were working on.
A few of the people that knew Grant quietly discussed him behind his back and tried to figure out what the change was and what had happened.
Gloria Sullivan, one of the secretaries, drew the welcome task of finding out what it was all about. When Grant came through the office in the middle of the afternoon, she was ready for him.
"Busy, Grant?" she asked.
"Never too busy for my favorite natural redhead! What's up?" and when he said "natural redhead" he gave an obvious look at her midsection that made her blush. It brought memories to both of them.
"I have a nasty headache and I'd like a chance to get out of here for the rest of the afternoon. And you don't look as if you're highly entertained by this place either. So ... "
"What would King Blessitt say? Would it get you in trouble?"
"Piss on King Blessitt! If he doesn't like it ... "
"Down, girl! I get the word. Take a swing through the girls' room and powder your ... uh ... nose and I'll meet you downstairs. You know where my car is parked. Okay?"
It was a beautiful afternoon and Gloria decided that a nice long drive was just the tonic she needed for her "headache" which completely disappeared after they stopped for a drink. They also had a light dinner which Grant put on his expense account. Gloria smiled at him knowingly as he did it.
After they got back in the car he filled the gas tank with the most expensive brand he could find and put it on his expense account charge plate.
This time Gloria completely ignored the act, even though she knew what a fit Blessitt always threw about Grant's use of his company expense account to entertain girl friends and take pleasure drives.
She still hadn't brought up the subject that she started out to explore, namely the new Grant Morgan. She hoped he would say something to give her a clue or at least start on the subject so it wouldn't sound like prying.
Gloria had no idea where they were. Nor did she care, really. It was getting dark and she was enjoying herself tremendously. Just riding through some strange, remote countryside in an open convertible.
They appeared to be going toward a summit of some kind and she could see lights coming on far below as they went through clearings.
When they finally stopped they were almost completely hidden on three sides by trees and banks and the front of the car pointed out over a cliff of some kind. The thought occurred to Gloria that it was like sliding in bed with a lover, the flickering lights below a sheet and the starlit sky a cover. She turned and held her arms out to Grant.
"Kiss me, you fool!"
"Then spread your legs. That's the way you like to be kissed, isn't it?"
Their arms went around each other and their lips met. 'Soon she felt his left hand slide gently down her thigh and under her loose skirt. She did not move for an instant until she felt his fingers probing gently under her pants, tickling the short, curly hairs in the little rise below her navel.
She was beginning to tremble lightly and could no longer hold still. Slowly she pushed herself forward on the seat where her legs could spread. Then his gently probing fingers went under the crotch of her pants and stroked the lips that were opening to his touch.
Still holding the kiss and breathing deeply, she reached over and unbuckled his belt and pants. As the zipper went down she could feel the hard mass of flesh fairly bursting to get out.
She put her hand down into the top of his shorts to take hold of his stud-like rod.
He raised himself up in such a way, without ceasing his gentle play on her organ, that she could push his pants and shorts down toward his knees and give the great, knobbed horn his full freedom.
Each time she did this with Grant she thrilled even more at the size and hardness of his weapon. Her small hand would not reach completely around it, but she held it gently and stroked up and down and then let her fingers trickle farther down to feel the hairs and large round globes hanging below. It made wild dreams run through her feverish mind and caused a dryness in her throat.
Their lips parted just momentarily, and a light groan escaped each of them.
"Kiss it, darling ... kiss it ... please...." It was only a whisper on her lips.
In a movement of more instinct than grace, she removed her pants and lay in the seat. Her legs were spread with her calves dangling over the door of the car, her head in his lap.
"I want to kiss you too ... just for a moment ... I want to taste it ... and tickle it with my tongue, and feel it grow...."
Grant parted the lips with his tongue and then let it probe around her clitoris in a wiggling, ever-moving play. As the juices flowed out to wet the tender nerves, he moved his tongue down each side, just inside the lip ... wiggling, twitching, licking out. When he reached the bottom, his tongue shot out in lashes, going deeply into the hole.
Shaking almost violently now, she ceased her oral majesty on him and started to sit up.
"Don't let me come yet. I want it in me. I want the big, beautiful thing in me when I explode...."
She kissed it gently again before she got up and started nervously taking her clothes off.
"Take your clothes off too. I need it properly and completely!"
"Let's get in the back seat. Okay?" Grant's voice was a whisper too.
She didn't answer. She just climbed into the back seat and lay back on the soft cushion. Her hands were under her head, causing her breasts to rise up to their fullness. Her white skin seemed to almost glow in the half darkness, dotted only by the two slightly dark nipples, a slight dark area at her navel, and the reddish-brown hair between her lifted and spread legs.
When Grant moved in between her legs she took the great horn in her hand and guided it toward the entrance. When the knob touched, she stroked it up and down a few times on her clitoris and then let it enter. He felt her fingers like soft petals on the small of his back, urging him in.
Gently, in and out at first, he played his symphony. Then when it was all the way in, he started the thunderous overture, and now her petal-like fingers became the claws of a tigress. Her throaty groans had become almost nasal cries. Her hips pushed and slashed at him.
"I'm coming ... I'm coming...." she cried over and over.
He had been controlling his own coming for this moment, and now he triggered it, arching his back and driving even deeper.
He came in repeated spurts, sensing that she could feel each release of the hot fluid.
They lay embraced, spent, for a few swirling moments.
Grant produced a bottle of southern bourbon from the glove compartment and some hotel type glasses, wrapped in sterile envelopes, and they each indicated a need for the refresher.
Without even putting their clothes on, they took Grant's pants out to a clear spot by the cliff and sat.
Grant poured each of them a generous drink. His voice finally broke the stillness:
"Well, did we cure your headache?"
"Thank you, Doctor. When can I come for my next appointment?"
They laughed and kissed each other, embracing clumsily in their spent nakedness.
"Grant?" she said, in a more sober mood now.
"Yes?"
"You knew I was faking the headache, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Did you think this is why I did it in the first place?"
"Wasn't it?"
"No."
"I had a feeling there was something else you were getting at, at first. But then as we kept riding, I changed my mind."
"Do you know what I started out looking for?"
"Maybe. You tell me."
"Okay, if you won't come out with it, I'll have to ask."
They were sitting apart now, though close enough together that their voices were soft and intimate.
"Grant, something happened during your trip to Louisville. You've changed. There's something on your mind. I'm not complaining, you understand. In some ways you're the same old Grant we love," and she motioned toward the car and lowered her face slightly. "But the way you used to be, you'd have taken me immediately to my place or yours and had me undressed before we got up the elevator. The girls in the office were getting so used to being felt up by you they were disappointed when you didn't. Now tell Mamma Gloria what's on your mind. Please?"
"I didn't know it showed that much."
"It does, believe me."
"Really, I was glad to get you out this afternoon. I needed to talk to someone. But I didn't know how to bring it up. I wasn't even positive that I wanted to."
"Woman?"
"Yes."
"Pardon my saying so, but how in the hell could you get your mind troubled by a woman, after as many episodes as you've had in a lifetime career of women?"
"That's the funny part about it. I can't explain it. I was beginning to think I'd met and seduced every possible kind, shape, size, or description of female. I loved them all and went back for more. Then I met her. Imagine me flipping my cork over a nineteen-year-old virgin! I can't get her out of my mind, day or night."
"Pregnant?"
"No, far from it. That brings up something else I have to get off my chest. First of all, I dated her the two weeks I was down there and didn't lay her. Although I'm sure I could have. But the reason I didn't is, I suppose, part of what's bothering me. I'll come to that later.
"Second, I can't get anyone pregnant. You may find that hard to believe, but I'll explain it to you. During my hitch in the army I was wounded. Of all places, I took shrapnel in the balls. True, even with the close examination you've given them, you never noticed the scars. But believe me, they're there, under the hair.
"At first the field doctor just laughed about it, and I was the star attraction among the purses at the station. But then infection set in. The doctor gave it to me one day. He explained that there is a little tube from each nut that carries the live sperm out. It's called a vas. It has nothing to do with just coming. When you come, the juice comes from the prostate gland. Only the little sperm cells that get you pregnant come from the balls. At any rate, mine had become infected. He said that if I'd let him perform a vasectomy, it would probably cure it. If we didn't, I might lose the whole works. The only catch to it was that once done, there was no way to undo it. I would never be able to be a father. I would go on having whatever I considered a normal sex life, but the little sperms would just go back into the lymph system and be carried off as waste. I'm not ashamed of it, but I just never felt like spreading it around."
"I'm sorry. But it's not really that important. I'll admit I've had some uneasy moments after some of our 'parties,' and I suppose this explains why it always turned out okay."
"As to why I didn't seduce her, that's not as easy to explain. The funny thing about it is, she offered to. Once when we were just riding alone, and I had put the pressure on her ... as you know I can when I want to ... she actually offered to. She said she never had before, but she knew what it was all about, and if I needed her that much, she would. She even offered to give me a blow job if that is what I needed, although she admitted she didn't even know what she was supposed to do. And the capper of all, she admitted she was so hot in the pants she was about to cry. But when I took her in my arms she began to sob. Something went wrong. I guess it was the first time a virgin ever cried and begged me to do something. I went soft; Me! I went soft!"
"You, my boy, have a case of love. For the first time in your life, the stud has fallen in love with a filly. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"I'm not sure. You may have solved it for me tonight."
"In what way?" she asked.
She raised her face to him in a joking way.
"Simply this. I'd made up my mind that I was going to have one more real fling. I was glad it was you. I knew you could do it if anyone could."
"Thank you, kind sir. I'm flattered but ... "
"I figure that you can get my mind off her, if anyone can. If I get up in the morning and she's still top-most in my mind, I'm going back to Louisville."
"And then what?"
"I may even ask her to marry me."
"Does she know about your wound and operation?"
"No. But I'll tell her. It won't make any difference."
"I'm not so sure. What about the difference in your ages? You're no doddering old man by a long way. But you're a few years and a lot of miles older than she. What will her parents think of that? And what about all this traveling for Blessitt?"
"We'll work something out."
"I hope so, Grant. If this is what you decide to do, I truly hope so, for your sake and hers. She's a very fortunate girl."
"Now, how about finishing your project?"
Grant leaned over and kissed Gloria and tried to lay her back on the grass.
Without unkindness, somehow, she removed herself from his embrace and stood up.
"Sorry, Grant. No more tonight. Ordinarily, I'd just be getting started by now, as you know. But I'm afraid the 'understanding other woman' role doesn't really fit me that well, after all. You see, I had some plans of my own for you. You're the most fabulous piece a girl could ever hope for. And I didn't mind your spreading it around as you were. I'm not a picture of primness myself. But I always hoped that someday you'd get tired of spreading it around, and I had a perfect plan to let you settle down to Mamma Gloria, without your ever knowing what hit you. If it'll make you feel better, I've been in love with you for a long time. And not just for that club of a peter, either, Grant Morgan."
Her voice was nearing the tearful pitch now. But she wouldn't cry. Gloria Sullivan would never let any man see her cry.
"I'm sorry. I don't feel like being laid by you while you're thinking all the while about some little nineteen-year-old virgin that didn't even put out to get what I wanted. Please take me home."
CHAPTER TWO
When Grant opened his eyes and looked at the furniture around him, he wasn't sure he was awake.
Many times he had awakened in unfamiliar surroundings, in bed with a lady of short acquaintance, and it often embarrassed him that he couldn't think of her name. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes hours.
But this morning an almost complete amnesia blocked his mind, not allowing him to admit the truth.
The truth was that the beautiful and nude lady in bed with him was Mrs. Grant Morgan. A few hours before she had been Miss Louise Tollman, nineteen-year-old daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Bernard Welch Tollman. She was rich, lovely, and a virgin.
Now, she was certainly very lovely. But she was no longer rich and positively not a virgin. She was the wife of an unemployed traveling salesman. She had perhaps given up her riches, unknowingly. She had absolutely insisted on giving up her virginity.
Quietly, Grant got out of bed. He stood up, stretched, shook his head, and ran his fingers through his hair, partly to straighten the tangled strands and perhaps moreso to try to turn his brain on and get his senses back.
He saw his cigarettes and lighter on the table beside the bed and realized he desperately needed a smoke.
The naked, beautiful lady continued to sleep the slumber of a contented mind and satisfied body.
The bedroom was the largest he'd ever seen, he thought. It was like an elaborately furnished efficiency apartment. Along with the bed, which was about twice the size of a normal bed, there was a sitting area complete with couch and all the normal living room furniture. The couch was positioned in front of an enormous bow window which overlooked a spectacular view of the Ohio River down below.
In one corner of the room there was a small kitchenette, which appeared to be complete with all the necessities of preparing a quick snack or drinks or whatever a pampered palate wished.
Separate from the main room but joined by an archway, was a spacious and ornate dressing room and bath.
Grant easily found the necessary ingredients for fixing a cup of coffee even in the unfamiliar surroundings. Then he spotted the bottle of expensive bourbon and decided that would be fine to sweeten the coffee. He wanted to sit by the window and let the steaming coffee and whiskey clear his head.
Just as he was about to sit on the couch, it occurred to him that he was still completely naked himself, and somehow it just didn't seem nice to sit naked on such a beautiful piece of furniture. He picked up a nearby towel, spread it on the seat and back of the couch, and sat on that.
Now the events leading up to this morning were coming back to him in clear focus.
He had done just what he'd told Gloria he was thinking about doing. Only he didn't quit Blessitt, he just told them he was going to Louisville to see, a client.
After a few days of not even communicating with the home office, Chet Blessitt himself sent him his notice that he was fired. He also sent a check for the reserve money Grant had coming and, Grant decided, a generous bonus for past services.
Dr. and Mrs. Tollman were on an extended speaking tour in Europe, and Louise was living at home. Dr. Tollman, it appeared, was not an ordinary pill-and-needle doctor. He was a consultant. And since the end of the war he had been in great demand to travel and speak at universities trying to get organized all over again. Also, he had come from a long-established and wealthy Kentucky family and therefore had little interest in making a living.
They had decided to get married right away without waiting for her parents to return. She was sure they would approve, since they had never disapproved of anything she had ever done. She would send them a telegram when it was all over.
They had the wedding and invited a small group of her friends, some of whom Grant already knew. It was not an elaborate wedding in the southern tradition, just a party.
Grant quickly decided there was one thing about Kentucky he was going to like. And that was the liquor. He had never seen so much expensive bourbon in his life. He found that if you had the money and the connections, you could get your own private label made to unbelievable mellowness by some of the distilleries. The brands that he had always considered the utmost in quality and price were here called "cookin' whiskey," not really a class with "drinkin' whiskey." And these people knew how to drink.
During the party Grant and Louise gave the impression they were going away on a honeymoon to some secluded and exclusive place which they did not name. But when the last visitor was gone, Grant saw Louise give the maid an envelope, and she disappeared into the main kitchen.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
"Just a little present for Jennifer. I decided she needed a short vacation to visit her parents in Frankfort. And besides, I wanted you all to myself for a while. This will be our honeymoon cabin. I'll show you what an efficient little housewife you've just married. Okay?"
"And what are you efficient at, little housewife?"
"Come upstairs and I'll show you, Lord and Master!"
Just as Grant's mind was picking up the memories of this first night in bed with his new bride, he heard a stirring in the bed and turned his mind back to the present.
Louise was lying on top of the covers, stretching and yawning. She was on her back with her arms stretching over her head, her legs spread and extending as far as she could stretch them, causing every muscle and curve in her young body to flex like a ballerina. She covered her mouth with her left hand as she yawned, and her right hand went down to her abdomen, and she gently rubbed the love triangle between her legs.
"Oh, that's sore," she said softly, realizing that Grant was watching her.
Grant got up and went over to the bed and sat beside the lovely nude. He was still naked, and the sight of her striking body was beginning to have the obvious effect on him. When he sat, she reached over and took his cock in her hand and squeezed gently.
"A mighty weapon you have there, kind sir! May I borrow it for a few years? I promise to take excellent care of it!"
"I could probably work something out, Ma'am. But first I must find out what you intend to do with it, what kind of care you'll take with it!"
She raised up on her elbows, and, holding it in both hands as if she were climbing a flagpole, she kissed it on the end.
He put his hands under her arms at the shoulders and hoisted her up for a kiss and embrace. They fell back on the bed, still holding the kiss, clinging frantically to each other. She was lying across his chest, and she moved one leg across his lower abdomen so she could feel the erect prick against her thigh.
She kept moving her hips in a nervous, swaying and grinding motion until she was on top of him and it was pressing against the groove between her legs.
Still holding the kiss, he moved one hand down between their bodies and, lifting her hips, he inserted the head into the wet hole.
It was so tight she had to sit there momentarily on top of it, undulating her body in ecstasy but unsure what she was supposed to do.
He gently placed his hand on top of her buttocks and pressed down. At the same time he let one finger play in the valley between her hips, knowing it would cause her more excitement and movement. Down he pressed, and with each squirm of her hips she was impaled a little deeper and a little deeper on the throbbing shaft.
Finally hairs meshed with hairs, and her body took on a new throbbing with its fullness.
As the great knob touched new and tingling areas within her, she responded with a squatting movement or downward thrust to exploit the sensation to the fullest.
She was completely uninhibited now, carried away on a great wave of animal lust.
Grant realized she was traveling now on female instinct rather than experience. She was doing things to herself, rather than feigning excitement as a paid whore would. And this was exciting him more than any whore ever could.
Grant also realized he had a strong urge to urinate and would not easily come on his back. But his rod would stay hard and keep getting bigger, the longer she worked her magic on it.
She broke the kiss just long enough to whisper:
"May I come? I can't hold ... on ... much ... longer...."
And then their lips met again, and she was sobbing softly.
He knew a little of what she was experiencing, and the great love he felt for her at the moment made him forget his own feelings and concentrate on her fulfillment.
He placed both his hands downward on her hips and began his own movement. He pressed his heels into the bed and raised both their bodies into the air, meeting each of her hunches with a mighty thrust of his own, driving every ounce and inch of his cock even deeper and deeper into her.
Her sobbing had now become a mixture of gutteral groans and animal sounds as old as the sex act itself. Then her small body went limp, and tears began to roll down her face.
She couldn't speak. He didn't see a need to.
He let his body back down on the bed, she still on top of him. They lay still, their bodies still connected by meat into meat, for a few moments.
Then she rolled off onto the sheet and turned her face away from him. Her voice was little more than a whisper:
"I'm so ashamed of myself. Can you ever forgive me?"
Grant was truly surprised.
"Forgive you for what?" he asked.
"For the way I acted. Like some female animal in heat. I know it's not very lady-like. I can imagine what you must think of me. We were both feeling our drinks last night and not much happened. But I just couldn't control myself just now. I promise I won't...."
He turned her over then and snuggled her in his arms. He could hardly suppress a laugh.
"Just promise me you won't ever change, my little bitch in heat. That's all I ask. When the days comes that we wake up in bed naked and with a hard-on and you don't get excited by it, then we're in trouble. If you hadn't done what you just did, I'm afraid our marriage would've been off to an awfully bad start."
She sat up now and faced him, still lying on his back.
"But I had always thought a new bride was supposed to be timid. I had pictured how I would act aloof and scared and blushing and the whole works. And what do I do but climb on like a cheap slut and practically rape you. It's just so damn beautiful ... and handsome ... and...."
She reached his still-erect rod and stroked it about four times rapidly and violently and squeezed it with both hands.
"I must admit I don't know just how a new bride's supposed to act," he said, "but knowing you as I have come to know you in this short few weeks, I had hoped you'd act exactly the way you did."
"You can't imagine what torture it is to try to remain a virgin and stay out of trouble, as hot as I get sometimes. I often wonder if I'm normal. But I always thought if I gave in the first time, I'd never be able to control it after that. And now I'm even more convinced.
"It wasn't just a matter of letting my husband 'pop my cherry,' as they say. The pediatrician who took care of my childhood diseases clipped it surgically. He said it was medically sound practice, and Father seemed to agree with him. Did you mind that you missed that part?"
"Don't be silly. Why would I want to cause you pain and make a bloody mess?"
"I'm glad. I'm learning so much about being a bride. And, oh, what a teacher!"
"Thank you, boys and girls!"
"Do most women get as hot in the seat as I do?"
"I don't know most women. And I certainly don't marry very many of them."
"Silly! I'm serious. I often remember something that happened when I was about fifteen. My father owned a clinic and used his name on it, but he had other doctors that did most of the work. I enjoyed the freedom of the whole place, and I was into everything.
"There was a little supply room next to one of the examination rooms, and the door was the kind with a louvered vent toward the top. I was in the supply room one day when a young man came into the examination room and started opening his pants. I noticed then that he had a vial with him, and apparently he was there for a urinalysis.
I was too timid to walk out in front of him in that condition, so I stayed where I was, watching him through the vent.
"Then, from the other door, one of the nurses came into the room. At first she pretended to be startled, then she assumed the attitude that she had seen plenty of men in this condition, in her professional capacity. But the sight of her excited him, and even though he didn't make a move to get her to do anything, he started getting hard and was unable to urinate.
"She pretended to know a place she could touch him and make it easy to start. Actually, the more she touched him the more excited he became. Then he reached down and put his hand under her skirt and started playing with her. At first she squirmed away from him, but when he pursued her a little more she gave him complete freedom. By then she was massaging him openly. Offing his jack, is that what you say?"
Grant resisted an open laugh and nodded her to keep on with the story and the little games she was playing with his erect cock as she talked.
"So I was becoming so hot in the pants at what I was watching that the first thing I knew I was playing with myself there in the darkness. I was infuriated at the nurse for doing such a thing with a patient, but I was not about to interrupt. I took my panties off and out of the way and proceeded to play with glee. I didn't even know what a climax was, but I soon realized I was on fire inside.
"The nurse was bent over, with her face down at his fly and her back side to me. I couldn't tell what she was doing to him, but I could see his fingers working on her, and I tried to duplicate his actions. She didn't even wear pants, and he had her dress up under her belt.
Then she sat up on the examination table and spread her legs in front of him. It was just the right height for him to put his thing in her hole. He was very excited and red, and she stroked it twice more just before he put it in. Within a few seconds, it seemed, she laid her head back and whispered, 'I'm coming ... I'm coming ... ' and he pulled his thing out just as it shot a large drop of the stuff on her naked stomach.
"He continued doing it with his hand and shooting the stuff on the table and floor. That's when I had my first climax, although it wasn't like the real thing, with just my fingers. But I realized then and there that this was the most terrific thing I'd ever experienced.
"I was shaken for days. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do next. I wanted to do it all the way, but I was terrified of the unknown consequences. I knew about getting pregnant, and I eventually decided I'd rather wait until I knew all about it so I could enjoy it thoroughly. As I grew up a little more, I guess I resolved not to give in "the first time, because I knew I could never control myself then."
"And did the fellow ever get a urine specimen?"
"That's the funny thing. He still couldn't. So you know what? The nurse peed in the bottle for him, and they turned that in. I'll bet the lab had some fits with that one!"
"Did you ever let her know that you watched?"
"At first I was infuriated, as I said. For one thing, I was upset at her for doing it with a patient and right in my father's clinic. But mostly I was distressed by the fact that she obviously enjoyed it and let the man know she enjoyed it. Even seducing him, instead of the other way around.
I didn't know whether to mention it to her or to anyone, for that matter. Also the matter of not wearing panties under her uniform. I was fully convinced she was a helpless nympho who'd soon be on the streets making her living. Then, to top off my confusion, she and I gradually became friends, and I found that she was a truly likable girl. We became very fond of each other.
"I still didn't tell her what I'd seen, but one day I asked her about the practice of not wearing panties under the uniform. She told me it was very common among the nurses and most of the nurses she knew. She said it had something to do with all the body contact with men, and they just felt more comfortable that way. She said that many times she'd gone to another room and masturbated after a man had sneaked a feel under her dress.
"I asked her if it wasn't dangerous to be so free with men and let them know she enjoyed it. And she said it was okay as long as you knew where to draw the line and make them do the chasing. But when she found out I was still a virgin, she stressed what I already felt, that you should try your best to prevent that first time.
"She told me a lot during the time I knew her. She told me about a research program she'd found out about. It's a search for a pill women can take to keep from becoming pregnant. She told me many things about what a woman can do now, but she was very enthusiastic about this pill they're working on.
"Anyway, I guess she was right in what she said about how to handle men. She married one of the bright young doctors and now is a very wealthy young mother of three, in Boston. I'm glad I never told anyone. But you, of course."
She looked very thoughtful for a moment. Then she was talking again:
"Hey! I'm getting hungry. Let's go take a shower, and I'll fix us something to eat. Okay?"
"Sounds fine to me. Where's the men's room?"
"I'll tell you what. You take the big bath across the hall. I'll use my regular powder room where all my stuff is. But don't put any clothes on when you come out. I want us to just lounge around naked all day, and you can show me things. Okay?"
"You're the boss, boss."
"Will you show me what a blow job is? And do one to me?"
"My tongue gets hard at the very suggestion!"
"That's not all that's hard. Hey, that reminds me. Stay right there just a minute!"
She leaped off the bed and opened the drawer of a dresser. She came out with a regular cloth measuring tape used to fit clothes. Unfolding it, she bounced back on the bed on her knees.
"I want to measure it while it's big and hard. I had a girl friend who always bragged about her boy friend's having nine inches. She was quite proud of it. I just want to see."
Grant was speechless, one of the few times in his life. The more she handled his rod, placing the tape on it just the right way, the more excited it became. Just when he thought he was going to explode, she jumped up with the glee of a youngster on Christmas morning, holding the tape in her hands.
"Ten inches! And seven and a half inches around the big knob up on top. I wish she could see that!"
"Really? I'll go call her."
"The measurement, silly. Not it. That's all mine, and I won't share it with anybody!"
Again she bent over and kissed it on the end. Grant decided he'd better get to the shower quickly. He felt quite a day coming up.
CHAPTER THREE
For one week Grant and Louise played the age-old game of love in its basic form. They seldom went out, and no one came in. Most of the time they spent in the huge bedroom, completely naked. Some of the time they spent down in the living room, completely naked. They even spent some time in the swimming pool, naked. The play was the same, they just moved it to different stages for the performance.
Grant showed her the many ways of sex, and by good fortune and experimenting she showed him a few things.
She was completely fascinated by her whole new world and seemed never to tire of it. She liked learning the new phrases such as "eating pussy" and "sucking dick," and each time she was about to come, she would whisper and scream, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" until the coming released her.
They each strived for the fulfillment of the other's passions and thus achieved their own satisfaction and fulfillment to the extreme.
On the eighth day they received a telegram that Dr. and Mrs. Tollman were returning and would arrive at the airport the same day.
The fears Grant had managed to hide under a curtain of lustful activity resurfaced to reality. He had to face them. He decided to play wait-andsee until the showdown came. Then he would improvise answers from just the right mixture of truth and falsehood and possibility to try to talk his way through.
He tried to figure out if Louise was scared, but she didn't give any hint that she was. He also wondered if she would tell her parents she was pregnant in order to clinch the marriage in their minds. He, of course, knew this was impossible. But she didn't. A couple of times she had brought up the possibility of her getting pregnant when he'd come inside her, and each time he tried to formulate a way to explain to her the real truth. But each time the words failed him. He realized he should have told her before the marriage. He decided this was not the proper time and place. He would wait until a better time.
They met Dr. Tollman and Mrs. Tollman at the airport, and a great fuss of kissing and handshaking was made. Louise seemed to be honestly fond of her parents.
A thought occurred to Grant, and he whispered to Louise:
"What about Jenny the maid? Shouldn't we get in touch with her and tell her they're home?"
"Don't worry about it. I already called her. She'll be home when we get there. And don't call her Jenny in front of them. Call her Jennifer."
"Thanks," he whispered.
Sure enough, when they got back to the Tollman house, Jennifer was there to open the door for them. She didn't act as if she'd ever been gone. Grant decided he liked her very much.
To his great relief, the Tollmans soon became real people. Not at all stuffy and self-centered as he had feared. Their lack of knowledge about some of the realities of the world under their feet was soon obvious. But they seemed to make up for it by their good-natured indifference to things that did not concern them and by their great love of Louise and concern for her happiness. It was evident that both of them had been born rich-at least by his standards-and this accounted for their lack of information about the little things that go on around everyone in the process of living and getting by. There was always someone else to do the routine things for them, and the money kept coming in.
Late the first night they were home, Grant and Dr. Tollman were left alone in the "saloon" as Grant called it, enjoying some new bourbon Dr. Tollman had just received.
"Grant," the Doctor said, "I needn't tell you how concerned we are about Louise's happiness. I think that's obvious. Would you be offended if I asked you some questions?"
"Certainly not, sir. I'm sure you have every right to."
"I don't want to sound like the cross-examining father-in-law. I want us to become very good friends, in addition to our relationship. But I would like to know something about your plans. Money, you understand, is not an important consideration to us. You could go on living here with us, if you choose. I'm at least observant enough to know you're not fixed financially to just loaf and travel the rest of your life. And I think I also observe that you're not the kind of man who would want to. I can also tell that you're somewhat older and more experienced than my daughter. I have no objection-to this."
Dr. Tollman had walked across the room to a liquor cabinet, and his back was to Grant for a moment. He seemed genuinely embarrassed by what he was having to do. Then he continued:
"Perhaps I have partially failed in the rearing of Louise. I haven't given her all the fatherly advice and attention a girl needs. I sent her to the best schools and rather gave her some freedom to set her own course. But I still realize she's ignorant of many of the ways of the world. What Pm saying is that I'm glad, I suppose, that she married someone mature enough to lead her. Someone who's willing to work for a living and make it from the bottom up. I never told her this, but I was always afraid she'd marry some rich young tennis bum that would be underfoot all the time, like a puppy. Am I saying this wrong?"
"Certainly not, sir. Please go on."
"Well, as I said, you could move in here with us, if you want to. There's certainly enough room here. And I assure you I will always try to make you feel welcome, as long as you make Louise happy. But, what I'm also trying to say, is that if you choose to make it on your own, I give you my blessings. Perhaps I have more confidence in Louise than in myself. But I think she could make it and be happy in a small house and the wife of a working husband, if this is what you both choose. Now that I've told you my feelings, will you tell me something of yourself?"
"I'm certainly glad you feel the way you do. I must admit I had my fears about this meeting. You see, I had already made up my mind to take Louise out of this house and make it on our own, somehow. I thought you would fight me, but I felt sure eventually we would agree. You've made it much easier than I thought possible.
"As for my plans, I have no job and very little money. I was a traveling salesman, or manufaeturers representative, if you prefer, before we married, and I agreed to quit that line of work because of the traveling involved. But I'm sure there are ways for a man to make a living, if he's reasonably smart and willing to work. And that's what I intend to do.
"With your permission, I'd prefer to continue to live here awhile longer until we get adjusted and I get a regular income. I promise it won't be long, and I certainly will try to not be a 'puppy underfoot.' "
"That sounds fine to me, and I think Louise and her mother will be enthusiastic about the idea. By the way, do you have any idea of the line of industry you want to get into?"
Grant didn't want to sound completely at loose ends in the face of all this generosity. Quickly, he leaped at the first notion that came to mind.
"Plastics. I think there'll be a great demand for plastics in all kinds of industry in the near future. Now that the Korean business is over and the shift will be toward home products rather than military, I think I'd like to get in on what's left of the ground floor."
"Very good thinking. I like that. Now, let me think. Someone mentioned plastics to me the other day. Or was it last year in ... Oh, now I remember. One of the people that takes care of my investments mentioned it to me the other day. River Machine and Tool Company. That's it. I own some stock in the company, and it hasn't declared a dividend in years. I never would let them sell my stock, because I knew the man who founded the company when I was very young and I helped back him. I held onto the stock for sentimental reasons more than anything else. Now they tell me that River is going to do some kind of work with plastic, and they may be back in the money again, if it works out.
"So if you would like, I'm sure I could get you on there. I don't think it would be a good idea to tell them your relationship to me. But I'll tell some people I know that if a Grant Morgan comes in, they are to find a job for him. After you prove your worth to them, they'll be glad they did. Okay?"
"I appreciate your confidence, sir. But it isn't really necessary. I'm sure ... "
"Think nothing of it, Grant. It's the least I can do for my new son-in-law. And please call me something besides 'sir.' Bernard or Dr. Tollman or Doctor or something. Okay?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you very much."
He had done it again, but it would take time to form a new habit. Perhaps the next time they were together.
Actually, Grant had not intended to go parading into any place and just ask for a job. He had expected to do some looking and contacting and perhaps get himself a position as sales manager in some local company. But under the present circumstances he was afraid to do otherwise than what the good doctor had prescribed. At least for a start. Maybe they would stall him and give him a chance to turn it down gracefully.
Later that night Grant and Louise were lounging around in her room before going to bed. He still couldn't make himself think of it as "their" room. It still seemed to be "her" room.
He told Louise what he and her father had discussed and the conclusions they had come to.
She was very happy about the prospects ahead. It sounded like a grand new adventure for her.
"Did you and your mother discuss me?"
"Naturally."
"What did she ask you?"
"If I really loved you and if you were gentle and kind to me."
"Did she think I beat you with a whip?"
"She meant in bed, silly!"
"And what did you tell her?"
"I told her how much I love you and as far as our beddy-bye habits, I just told her enough to let her know I was very, very satisfied. Is that okay?"
"You know anything you say is fine with me. And I'm sorry if I was prying. I didn't mean to be. I just wondered how I fared with my new family. Curiosity, you know."
"I don't blame you. And I can tell you that you fared extremely well with both of them. They like you, but they're actually a little wary of you. They're not accustomed to this sort of thing, and they so want to do the right thing to help us. I think it would hurt Dad's feelings if you didn't at least try what he suggested. Will you?"
"If you think I should. I can always move on to something else later. By the way, what is the significance of the picture on that wall? I've been meaning to ask, but every time we're in this room something distracts me."
"Oh! Those wonderful distractions! You mean the purple cow?"
"Un-huh."
"That was a gift Dad brought home to me one time when I was very small. I've always kept it. There was this poem I learned in school about a purple cow, and I recited it all the time, and he saw the picture and had it framed for me. I'm sure you learned it too. 'I never saw a purple cow and never hope to see one, but I'd rather see one than be one.' Remember that?"
"I'm sorry but this is my first introduction to purple animals."
"There really was a purple horse, you know."
"Louise, you're pulling my leg."
"No kidding. My grandfather used to tell me about it. There was this horse. He was a fine Kentucky horse, lived on a beautiful bluegrass farm. He was a deep, rich black when he was young. Finally, they said he got so black that he actually looked purple at a distance. Then something happened to him. He decided to bread away from the farm and return to the wild state of his ancestors. He was magnificently beautiful, and the legend of the purple horse spread as he was reportedly seen both in the mountains and near the plush farms. Eventually he was hated by ail the rich farmers, because the young female horses found him so attractive they took off with him it every opportunity. He had quite a following of very expensive blue-bloods, all of them female, all of them eager to be his sex-mate. He just seemed to have an aroma or something about him that stirred the passions of the mares."
"I should think the countryside would soon be populated by young purple colts!"
"That's the strange part. For all the hundreds of times he pumped his big rod in the anxious mares, young and old, none of them ever got pregnant. No one ever saw young colts following the pact. Just mares and the great purple horse. When he finally died he hadn't left an heir. Some of the mares died of boredom or broken heart, or call it what you will, and others just returned home with their heads and tails dragging."
By the time she got through telling the story the "distractions" had started again. They were openly fondling each other.
Louise then got on her knees and elbows on the bed.
"Tonight," she said, "I feel like one of the little mares, and you remind me of the big purple horse. Show me how you'd do it."
Grant was more than willing to play the game. He too got up on hands and knees and pranced around her on the bed. He sniffed at her pink opening the way a great horse would and let his tongue play in the groove until it opened farther. Then he put his hands upon her back the way a great stud would put his feet, and brought his weapon up to the hot crevasse. As he worked his hips to rub the knob on her clitoris, she backed toward him, inserting it to the hilt, inch by inch. She even farted as a passionate mare might from taking such a large load.
And Grant realized that, like the great purple horse in the story, he wouldn't make his mare pregnant.
CHAPTER FOUR
Grant got the job at River Machine & Tool. He soon realized that it was one of the truly monumental mistakes of his life.
When he first started at River, the company was tipping on the edge of bankruptcy as a result of the most striking example of mismanagement he had ever seen.
Even though a great deal of the stock in the company, more than half, was owned by Dr. Tollman, it was a family run company with little or no consideration for the stockholders. Each member of the family seemed to have a position in the company rather than a job. Mostly they were the Pence family; however, some were married into the family and had other names. And on top of this, Grant found that Dr. Tollman's attorney and investment adviser, Judge Franklin Leroy Lessing, was also on the payroll of River Machine as some sort of legal adviser, at a ridiculous salary.
All of this greed at the door of the company treasury kept the company in constant financial trouble and did nothing to bolster the business, even in the post-war period of the early fifties in which they now found themselves.
Grant took the job with the dubious title of Assistant Sales Manager. He soon found that this meant he did the inside work while others in the sales department-if you could call it such-took trips at company expense. They didn't sell anything. They just took trips. Such contracts as were made were mostly done by him through the mail or by the customer coming to the office. He often found himself abandoned, except for a few old-maid secretaries and file clerks and the factory workers.
Soon after he took the job he decided to quit and get with a more prosperous company and into a better position, before it was too late. But when he mentioned it to Louise she hesitated at the prospect.
He tried to explain to her his reasons, but she had reasons of her own.
"Grant dear, I wasn't quite ready to tell you this, but I think I'd better. Mother and I looked at a house today. And I wanted so much for us to be able to buy it ourselves, without Daddy's help. And the man we talked to said that if you have a steady job and a down payment, that's all there is to it. And I have some money of my own in some bonds that are mature, even a little more than the man said we needed to pay down. It's kind of small compared to this house, but it can be fixed up so beautifully, and it's in a nice neighborhood.-Mother and I were so thrilled. Can't you stay on a little longer until we get it all straightened out? Please?"
"Well, I suppose I ... "
"Oh! And another thing. It has a room just ideal for a nursery. And Mother asked me when we were going to get busy and give her a grandchild, and I lied a little bit and told her I thought I was already started, and you should have seen her glow! Honestly, I don't know what's protecting us the way we ... "
"Louise, please listen to me. There are some facts of life I have to explain to you."
"Oh, pooh on facts of life. You're just going to tell me we shouldn't go in debt for a house and how your job has no future and all that. I'm not' worried about it. I know you can do it. Even Daddy says you're one of the smartest and most honest men he's ever known. He's so proud of you. All we'd have to do is say one word, and he would give us plenty of money to buy any house we wanted. But I want us to do this. I want it to be our love nest where we start our family and ... "
"Louise, I've got to explain to you...." Louise threw her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with a kiss.
Loosening the kiss just slightly, she whispered:
"Stop talking and fuck me...."
The discussion was over. She used the one argument that always left Grant speechless.
The months that followed stretched into years. Grant became the workhorse of River Machine & Tool Company and also discovered the new experience of being deeply in debt. He found that a new house must be furnished and that his wife and mother-in-law had very expensive tastes in furnishings.
Even though the Tollnians often bought minor but very expensive things for the house, Louise wouldn't hear of letting them buy the real necessities. The only way he could do it was to go deeper and deeper into debt.
Also, Grant found he had social obligations as a member of the Tollman family. These he enjoyed sometimes, but they ran into expenses too. There were formal clothes to buy and expenses involving his membership in the country club, even though Dr. Tollman gave him the membership and paid the annual dues.
He found he could get raises by the simple expedient of threatening to quit the job. This, they realized, would dump the work load back upon some member or members of the "family," and they wanted no part of that. But even when his salary came up to more than the company could afford, there was still never enough to meet all his obligations.
Once he wondered why, even through fear of work, the Pence family agreed to his salary demands. In a seldom-shared moment of confidence with Tilly, one of the elderly secretaries, she let the secret out.
"Mr. Morgan, only Judge Lessing and I know who you really are. And he's the one who really pulls the strings around here. He's the one that decides who gets what and where the money goes."
This puzzled Grant at first. The Judge obviously had no great liking for him. They'd had occasion to meet a few times, both at work and away, and the Judge had always made it clear he didn't like nor approve of Grant, but there was no open or declared hostility. So why was the Judge so generous to him?
Then it began to be clear. The good Judge was taking River for all he could get. He used Dr. Tollman's stock to run the company his own way. When he was talking of selling the stock for Dr. Tollman, he was actually thinking of selling it to himself. And above all, he never wanted open warfare with Grant Morgan, because Grant could go back to the Doctor and tell too much. He might even blow the lid off the whole kettle of snakes.
But Grant still realized the thin footing he had in certain regions, financially and even the position he had put himself in by not telling Louise that he was sterile. So he decided to file the information away for further use, rather than hasty action. Someday, perhaps, he thought, Dr. Tollman may get a burst of generosity and give me all his River stock, even over the wishes of the Judge. Now that, my dear Judge Lessing, would be a fine situation indeed, he thought.
In the meantime, the role of milktoast by day and Don Juan by night had become a routine that he was settling into.
Almost in spite of himself, Grant tried to make the company prosper. He honestly saw a great possibility for such a company if properly run, especially in the casting of plastic products, of which River did some. And the factory workers themselves seemed to turn out good work and do their best. Instinctively he tried to do his best for the company also.
When the young man came into his office that day and asked to talk to someone about plastic, Grant thought he was probably a representative from some small company wanting prices on some new plastic piece to be made by River. The man had the hungry look of the ex-GI and the lean awkward look of a local citizen.
When he laid the piece of plastic on Grant's desk, Grant realized it was not like any other plastic he had seen before. He produced other samples too. Some were hard, some soft and rubbery. All seemed very tough. It was obviously very different from anything River had handled in the past.
"My name's Jerry Harrod. I think I've discovered a new kind of plastic. It appears to be very durable, and it can be produced so cheaply it's unbelievable. The basic ingredient is a waste product from the tobacco factories. They spend a great deal of money each year disposing of it. I think I can turn it into plastic. The other ingredients are also locally abundant and very cheap. I can change the mixture and processing a little and give the plastic certain electrical characteristics. I can make it very hard and brittle or soft and pliable. It resists some chemicals almost as well as glass. What do you think?"
"It sounds good. But why are you bringing it to us? Why not one of the big chemical companies?"
"Did you ever try to sell something to duPont? It's like trying to sell to the Army. Too many years and too much time and money invested in just the selling. I need some money quick to work on something else I have in mind. My wife's opposed to this sort of thing, this monkeying with inventions. She likes the security of working by the hour for a big company. So I have to do this stuff on the sneak without using any of my regular income. She doesn't even know I'm here. I'm willing to sell all I know about this process for twenty-five hundred dollars to someone who's willing to take a chance and make something of it. But it has to be quick and confidential. Cash, no checks. Are you interested?"
"I might be. Do you have the whole process down on paper?"
"Everything I know. Even some of the experiments that failed. So you won't need to try the same thing again."
"What are some of the failures?"
"Casting into shape, for one thing. I don't have the time or the money or the equipment to really experiment with it. But so far I've had very poor results in my attempts to cast the material into usuable devices. It just doesn't respond the way it should sometimes to heat and catalysts. I think, however, that a company like this could work it out, since you're already in the casting business."
"What kind of patent or protection do you have on this process?"
"None. As I said, my funds are so limited, and my time, I haven't been able to get any of it protected. That's another reason I can't discuss it with the big chemical companies and give them a chance to cut my throat. I won't even tell you the secret of the process until I see some money. Do you see my position?"
"Yes, more than you realize. But I'd have to know I was buying an original process, not just a copy of someone else's."
"Perhaps we could work something out. But I notice you keep saying T' instead of 'we.' Do I take that to mean you could come up with the money personally and leave this company out of it?"
"That's what I had in mind. Any objections?"
"Frankly, I prefer it that way. I've had some very bad experiences dealing with companies. And as I said, Pm only interested in quick money. I don't give a damn whether this benefits society or destroys it. I learned the hard way that ideas and brainstorms don't amount to anything unless you can convert them to dollar values in your pocket."
"You sound like a very bitter and disappointed young man."
"You have no idea."
"Back to the plastic. How soon do you have to have your money?"
"Immediately. In a lump. Not on monthly payments."
"But nobody carries twenty-five hundred dollars in his pocket. How about two weeks?"
"Sorry. That's too late. By then I'll have burned all the notes, and the process will no longer be for sale."
Harrod started collecting the samples on Grant's desk and putting them back in a container.
Grant's experience in years of selling told him a couple of things about the young man in front of him. First, the man was no salesman. He thought a product's own values would sell it. This was seldom true. Also the man was probably sincere. He didn't appear sophisticated enough to be phony. And, most obvious of all, he was desperate for some quick money of his own that he didn't have to share with a nagging wife.
Grant reached in his wallet and found one hundred dollars that he was supposed to deposit in the bank and make a furniture payment. For a fleeting moment the old Grant Morgan relived and took control of him. The Grant Morgan that took chances and didn't live twenty-four hours each day just to make payments on debts. He took out the money and showed it to Harrod.
"I have one hundred dollars on me. Will you consider that a binder for one week? If one week from today I don't pay you the remainder of nineteen hundred dollars, you keep this and we call it even."
Grant knew it was supposed to be twenty-five hundred dollars instead of two thousand, but it was a typical salesman's trick to make the opposition dicker and offer.
"We were talking about twenty-five hundred dollars, not two thousand. Rememher?"
"Take it or leave it. That's my offer."
Grant was holding the five twenty-dollar bills up in his hand where Harrod could see them. It was obvious Harrod was bursting to reach for them. He did.
"And I get to keep the material and notes until you give me the remainder. Okay?"
"What assurance do I have that you're selling me something that isn't already patented?"
"You can check to see if there is a patent on a process involving these chemical combinations," Harrod said, picking up a pen and piece of note paper from Grant's desk. "I'll write the scientific name for some common products. But I won't tell you the secret of how they're combined. You can easily find out if there's a process using these particular products. I can assure you there is not, however."
"Until one week from today, Mr. Harrod. And by the way, if you should come in here next week and find a man. here with me, just say you're looking for a job, and leave. I don't want this discussed in front of anyone else associated with this company. I'll give you a note how to get in touch with me later in the day if we can't be alone. Agreed?"
"Agreed. One week from today. I kind of like the idea of you fucking the company out of the deal. That is my kind of thinking. Personally I hope you figure a way to steal the money from the company. Like stabbing the General in the ass with his own swagger stick. I always wanted to."
Harrod was gone. And Grant faced grim reality again. He wondered if he had bought something worthless. And mostly he wondered where he was going to get nineteen hundred dollars in one week.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jerry Harrod brought the samples to Grant Morgan on a Wednesday. When he left with Grant's hundred dollars, Grant sat by himself with his office door closed for some time, thinking.
He told the receptionist he didn't wish to be bothered for a while. When she got curious about the recent visitor he told her it was an old friend from New York that had brought him some bad news and he needed some time to think about things.
After about ten minutes he had the switchboard place a call to a number in Washington, D.C. He didn't give her the name of the man he wanted to talk to. In a moment he was back on the line.
"Ed Grinnel, please," he said into the phone.
"Speaking. Who's calling, please?"
"Ed, this is Grant Morgan. I'm living in Louisville now, but perhaps you remember me as working for Blessitt Locks when you were working your way through law school at Florida, and we used to ... "
"Oh, hell, yes, Grant! How could I ever forget the night we rounded up the whores for that bunch of buyers and accidentally got one of the guys wives in the crowd? If you hadn't taken her out and shacked with her yourself that night, we'd have all been out of business!"
"I see you remember my best side, Ed. It just proves that a life of clean living pays off in the end, doesn't it?"
Ed laughed heartily over the phone and some more small talk was exchanged.
"Grant, what are you up to these days? You're not by any chance running a stud business down there and looking for recruits, I hope...."
"It's an idea. But seriously, Ed, I do have a favor to ask. I'll pay for your services, but right now there isn't time for correspondence. I want a quick check on a patent for a plastic making process. I'm going to give you the names of some chemicals, and I'd like to know if there's already protection on such a process or if it's still clear. Can it be done in a couple of days?"
"My boy, you've come to the right man. I'm quite friendly, in ways only you can imagine, with one of the ladies in a good position over there, and I can get it for you tomorrow. Want me to call you back? Oh, yes, before we forget, give me the information that you have that we're supposed to look up."
Grant read the strange sounding words over the phone and made sure they had the spelling correct. Then he gave Ed the address of River Machine.
"Send me a telegram at this address as soon as you find out something. If it's already patented, just say 'Rogers in very bad health' or something to that effect. If we're in the clear and no hitches appear, say 'Rogers has recovered and healthy.' Understand?"
"I understand you're up to something as usual. Sounds like somebody's going to get fucked without getting kissed. Lots of luck and let me know later how it comes out. And forget the charges. You can fix me up with some of that southern fried pussy next time I come through there. Okay?"
"I appreciate this more than I can tell you, Ed. See you later...."
Shortly after he finished the Washington call, Grant dialed his home and Louise answered.
"Louise, what were we supposed to do tonight?"
"Nothing that I remember, dear. Why? What did you want to do?"
"You know what I'd like to do to you! But before that, I was just wondering if we were supposed to go over to Dr. Tollman's. I have something I'd like to discuss with him. Kind of private. And I wanted to know if he was home tonight."
"As a matter-of-fact, I was just talking to Mother today, and she said they'd be just sitting around home tonight. Would you want me to call and tell her we're coming?"
"No, it's nothing real important like that. I'd rather just drop in on them, and if we happen to be left alone I'll talk to him. In fact, let's go out for dinner and then go by there on the way home.
Okay?"
"Sounds fine to me. But if you're hungry, I have something here Pd like you to eat."
"What is it?"
"Well, it's hot and has black curly hair around it and is just dripping with delicious juice. Interested?"
"That, my dear, I'm always interested in!"
"If you could see me right now, I think you'd be even more interested."
"Why? What're you wearing?"
"Absolutely nothing. I've been running around completely naked since I took my bath this morning. And I'm so hot I'm about to pop. I tried doing it with my finger, but since I've gotten used to that big thing of yours it doesn't work anymore. You won't be late tonight, will you?"
"They couldn't hold me here tonight with chains!"
"Good," she said. "You think the neighbors would be shocked if I met you in the front yard and raped you?"
"It's possible."
"Okay, if you want to be stuffy I'll wait until you get in the front door."
She hung up the phone, giggling her little-girl laugh that she still did after all their time of married life.
CHAPTER SIX
It took Grant the better part of an hour to cool Louise's passions when he got home that night. True to her promise, she met him at the front door and sprang on him like a jungle cat, almost tearing at his clothes.
As soon as he was stripped, he merely left the clothes lying in the hall and carried her to a couch.
Without the usual preliminary that she usually enjoyed so much, she pulled him down on top of her and inserted his swelling prick into her body.
She had become so expert at using her body that it didn't take them long for both to reach the first climax. But within a few minutes they were both eager to go at it again.
Grant had noticed that as Louise got more mature, and especially in the last year or so, she was almost insatiable when she really got hot. She would reach her summit and appear to be completely finished, but within a few minutes the fire had started again and again and again. His own desires and abilities kept pace with her, but sometimes he wondered what would happen if he felt ill or tired and was not able to satisfy her.
Each time she felt him drop his hot juices in her, she thrilled at it as if he had injected her with a hyperdermic of some mystical medicine. She tremendously enjoyed performing on his erect dick with her mouth, but of late she usually stopped just before he unloaded his juice. Not because she didn't want it in her mouth, for she admitted she liked it that way, but more because she wanted it in the other end. This she almost insisted upon.
After they had satisfied their body hungers and showered and dressed, they had a quick meal at a small restaurant.
Grant didn't mention that he was down to his last few dollars and was secretly glad they'd not gone to an expensive place.
He seldom discussed money matters with Louise now. It was obvious to him that she didn't comprehend money matters at all, and he saw no point in bringing it up.
He sometimes refused her things that he couldn't afford, but he had learned not to use money as an excuse. He always thought of another reason, and if he couldn't, he managed somehow to get it, anyway.
He made a point of not telling her about the matter of the plastic he had invested his hundred dollars in earlier that day. This was something he dared not discuss with anyone. Some people would tell him it was a foolish gamble with money he didn't have and couldn't afford. Others would get overly enthusiastic and cloud his own plans before he could even formulate them. This was his private secret for the time being.
When they arrived at the Tollmans, the usual greetings and small talk seemed to drag on and on.
Grant wondered if Louise had forgotten his desire to get Dr. Tollman alone for a few minutes. Why hadn't she used some excuse to separate the men from the women?
Then luck smiled.
"Grant, I just got in a new case of bourbon today from a little place down in Nelson county. It's made from a special water that comes out of a cave and takes years and years to prepare. They say it's unbelievable. Care to help me sample some down in the recreation room?"
"Is this for medical science, Doctor? My wife flogs me with a cat-o'-nine-tails for drinking without a good excuse!" Grant said, as he stood up.
The Doctor enjoyed the joke loudly and put his arm around Grant's shoulder as they headed out of the room. Both were large men, Grant a bit taller and some slimmer than the Doctor.
Once in the "saloon" as Grant called it, Dr. Tollman proceeded with opening the bottles, and Grant racked the balls on the billiard table, as was a custom. As they shot rotation pool and drank the delicious liquid, Grant waited for an opportunity to bring up the subject he had come here to discuss.
Finally he decided it could wait no longer.
Keeping himself on the opposite side of the table from Dr. Tollman but avoiding looking each other in the eye, he made his move.
"Dr. Tollman, if I asked you for a rather large favor and asked you to keep it just between the two of us, would it have to interfere in any way with our relationship?"
"Certainly not, Grant. If it's within reason. I think you know me well enough to know what I consider proper and improper."
"It has to do with money. Is that too improper?"
"Oh, hell! If that's all you need, why didn't you say so? I've often thought of slipping you some money now and then without the girls knowing anything about it. But I didn't want to offend you or make you think I had no confidence in you. How much do you need?"
"That's just it. It's not just a couple of dollars 'til payday. I need two thousand dollars, and I don't know how long before I can pay it back. Maybe quite a few months."
"I hadn't exactly intended to pin you down to monthly payments like a loan shark. I don't think two thousand dollars will make me or break me. Just a minute...."
Dr. Tollman went to a drawer behind the bar and pulled it out. It pulled out most of the way and stopped. He did something to it, and it continued to come out farther. There in the back of the drawer was a small safe as neat as anything Grant had ever seen.
"Let me mention that Mrs. Tollman doesn't know about this little gadget, and I'd just as soon she didn't find out, if you know what I mean. This is my little secret hiding place for private things and also some money that I keep for my own indulgence. You do understand?"
"Certainly, Doctor. I didn't even see it."
"Here. Here it is. I put this money in here last week. A fellow paid back some money I loaned him years ago, and I'd forgotten all about it. Three thousand. Why not take all of it? It isn't doing me any good, and even though you haven't told me why you need it, I'm sure you underestimated the amount as one usually does in a situation like this."
"You're far too generous, sir. But I must admit you've hit close to the truth as to my needs. Do you want to know what I need the money for?"
"If you want to tell me. If not, I shan't worry about it. I think you know what you're doing, and I'm sure there are expenses of running a house and furnishing it and starting a family that I'm not even aware of."
"Well, there is a matter of furniture, as you said," Grant said, thinking of the hundred-dollar furniture payment he had spent.
"If you mean what I think you mean, Grant, I couldn't have invested that money wiser, could I?"
"I don't know exactly what you ... "
"You know exactly what I mean, you sly fox. Furniture. Family. Perhaps furniture for a nursery, eh? I thought I detected something different about Louise. You can't fool me, you know. Even though I haven't exactly practiced medicine for years, I still know a thing or two."
The Doctor had become so jubilant over his newly discovered guesses that he had forgotten all about the pool game and was nervously pouring each of them a large glass of the whiskey.
Grant was caught even tighter in the tangled web of deceit. What could he do? What could he say? Could he dash this generous man's hopes with a sudden black truth? Sorry, Doctor, perhaps he should say, I can't get your daughter knocked up now or ever. I can screw her and every other woman into a frenzy, but I can't get you a grandchild. I just need your money to squander on a hairbrained scheme to make money and maintain my manliness in your daughter's eyes so she'll still want me to screw her into a frenzy.
Sure, he could say that and straighten the whole thing out. But he wasn't going to. It had gone too far now. He could see no benefit to anyone from washing the dirty linen at this time.
When they came upstairs they had changed the subject, but it was obviously topmost in both their minds.
Grant was getting slightly tipsy from the large amount of liquor he'd consumed, and Dr. Tollman, who apparently never had any effect from liquor, was light-headed from elation over his suspicions. He looked at Louise very fatherly and kissed her good night as they left.
Louise didn't notice the differences in attitude or else she chose not to comment on it. She never asked Grant what had taken place down in the recreation room. He never told her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Promptly at three o'clock on Thursday afternoon, Grant received a telegram from Washington. It read:
Rogers has recovered amazingly. His young secretary claims credit for amazing new rejuvenating treatment. But if you need further correspondence with him I suggest you let me handle it. Do not wait too long. Treatment may get out of hand and cause setback in current good health.
Ed
Grant had no trouble decoding the message Ed Grinnel was trying to get across. He was saying that at the moment the coast was clear so far as the patent was concerned, but that Grant should let him handle the procedure to get a patent process started before someone else got wind of it and beat him to it.
He decided Ed was right and that he would probably be the best one to handle the matter.
Of course he couldn't say anything until Jerry Harrod showed up with the rest of the material and the final deal was made. If only he'd had sense enough to get a name and address or phone number or some way of getting in touch with Harrod.
Well, he'd just have to wait. If Harrod never came back, he'd give Dr. Tollman the money back and let it go at that. A hundred dollars lost wouldn't really make that much difference, the shape he was in, anyway. He would just wait.
As the time drew nearer he became more anxious, and the time itself seemed to drag even slower.
Then Wednesday morning was upon him. And so were five of the Pences. Why they picked that particular day to come to the office, he couldn't imagine. But he knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of them in a hurry if Harrod should come in. The Pences never did anything in a hurry.
Cautiously and without being too obvious, Grant watched out the window toward the entrance to the plant and offices, hoping Harrod would come from that direction. Perhaps he could head him off early.
He saw an old car pull up across the street, smoking badly. He couldn't quite make out the features of the driver. But he kept an eye on the car, waiting for the driver to get out.
When he did get out and look around, Grant was sure it was Harrod, even at the great distance. There was something about the posture and stance.
He immediately made excuses to the Pences, saying he had to run home a moment, and would be back shortly. Then he headed down the stairs rapidly, determined to meet Harrod before he got into the building.
They met at the entrance. Grant patted his coat where his wallet obviously was in a pocket and told Harrod to follow him to the parking lot. There, they both got into Grant's car and pulled away.
"Well, Jerry, did you bring the notes and samples?"
They were heading away from traffic, into the south end and open streets.
"Yes," Harrod said, "but I'm not too sure I want to go through with it the way we talked about. How much money did you bring?"
"I brought nineteen hundred dollars, exactly what we discussed. Just what changed your mind?"
Grant was heading for a drive-in restaurant on Dixie Highway where they could talk and settle the matter.
"I got to thinking it ought to be worth more than that."
"We made a deal, Mr. Harrod. You accepted the money in good faith, and I produced the remainder in equally good faith. I'm not in a mood to haggle."
By this time they had pulled into the drive-in, and Grant ordered a couple of cokes over the intercom.
"Well, it was worth a try," Harrod said.
He started to rummage through a brown, paper sack containing the plastic samples and some other material. Then he produced some crumpled papers from his inside pocket. These were the notes and formulas, written on yellow, ruled tablet paper.
A girl brought the cokes, and Grant put them on the dash of the car.
Harrod was sorting the plastic bits and chunks on the seat between them. Each had a number on it, either a tag tied on with a string or a piece of tape with the number printed on it. He arranged the papers in some kind of order that only he understood. Then he stopped and took a sip from the coke.
"Before I go into the explanation, Mr. Morgan, I'd like to see some money, just to make sure we both understand our deal. Okay?"
"Sure. I should've thought of it myself."
Grant produced two one-thousand-dollar bills. He held them out to Harrod.
Harrod's eagerness for the money was obvious, as Grant was sure it would be.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan, but I don't have the hundred dollars you gave me. Could we get one of these changed and let me give it to you out of that?"
"Let's just call it even. If this works out, a hundred dollars won't mean anything one way or the other. If it doesn't, at the rate I'm going, it soon won't mean anything, either."
"You sound like you have troubles too. It doesn't sound possible from my point of view, but I guess you never know."
"You're a past master of the understatement, I see. But we've got to get on with this formula. You explain it to me in detail, and I'll make notes on the margin of your papers, if there is something I need to add for my own information."
Harrod then became the master of the situation as he launched into the explanation of the process. His grammar was poor, Grant noticed, but his use of technical terms was amazing. Often Grant had to stop and spell out words Harrod took for granted.
Grant's knowledge of chemistry was very limited, but the explanation was clear enough. Harrod had the common-man natural knack for interpreting technical language into working English. Each of the numbers on the plastic pieces referred to a stage in the production or to the results of an experiment. This made it possible for Grant to visualize the workings as they went on, and he also realized this would greatly expedite the processing of a patent.
In about an hour they were headed back to Grant's office, and the deal was made.
There was only one hitch that Grant was uneasy about. Harrod refused to sign a written release on the material and a receipt for the money. The reason he steadfastly clung to was that he wanted to have no record of the transaction in anyone's hands. He wanted the money kept secret from his wife and the government. His wife, he said, would demand the money and then rack him for not getting more out of the deal. And the government would demand a cut for taxes. He felt the money was his alone, and he had no intention of sharing it with anyone.
Grant finally gave in to his wishes and let it drop, realizing that once he had the patent he wouldn't need Harrod's release. And he also knew that if the whole thing was a fizzle he could never get the money back from Harrod at any rate.
As they neared the parking lot, Harrod mentioned that he had to get back to work as soon as possible.
"Where do you work, by the way?"
"At the tobacco factory over there."
They could see the large smoke stacks towering in the distance.
"Since this material is made from their waste product, why didn't you try to sell them the idea?"
"I tried selling them an idea a couple of times. I found out that any brainstorm I come up with relating to the company while I'm an employee of the company belongs to them. All you get is a pat on the back and maybe a couple of dollars for each worker you can eliminate a need for. I'd rather see the whole thing go down the drain than have them get richer on my creation."
"But you must realize that by working for them by the hour they're making money from your labors."
"That's true. But I have a peculiar philosophy about that. I guess you might say I feel it is acceptable to do a menial job on hourly wages or weekly wages or whatever. But you shouldn't do artistic or creative things on a set wage. Compensation for those things should be for the thing you create or the act you perform, not for the amount of time you spend doing it. You should be doing it for yourself so that, good or bad, it's yours when it's done. Do you follow me?"
"Yes, I suppose I agree with you. Even though I don't practice what you preach. I think you're a very brilliant young man, Jerry. I hope you achieve whatever it is you're trying to achieve. By the way, what is your next project?"
"I'm working on an economical way to separate water into hydrogen and oxygen to be used as fuel. Did you ever see pure hydrogen burn?"
"Not that I know of."
"The amount of heat and power it produces is fantastic. And all it needs is oxygen. Water is an endless supply of both. And when it burns it just turns back into water. See what I mean?"
"I also see what it would do to the oil companies. Damn! They'd string you up by the balls if you ever came up with some cheap, simple way of converting plain water into a potent fuel!"
"If I hit it they'll pay a dear price. Either to use it or to keep it quiet. I don't care which."
"And what would you do if you had all the money you needed?"
"First of all, get my wife off my ass. Then I'd like to study theoretical math and chemistry for the rest of my life, without ever having to punch another time clock."
"Do you have a degree?"
"You must be joking. I dropped out of school in the seventh grade."
"Jerry, I'm glad you're on my side. I don't think I'd ever want you for an enemy."
They shock hands before they got out of the car and said "good-bye" to each other.
As Harrod was starting to walk away, he seemed to have another thought.
"By the way, Mr. Morgan. Did you steal the money from the company as I hoped you would?"
"No, sorry to disappoint you. I have a very rich father-in-law."
"It must be nice."
"Believe me, you wouldn't ... "
Grant never finished the sentence. They both turned and went their separate ways.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grant wasted no time getting in touch with Ed Grinnel in Washington, letting Ed know he had the material and information and getting instructions on starting the patent request.
Then he sent the entire collection of notes and plastic lumps, along with a lengthy explanation of his own, to Ed. It was Ed's job then to make arrangements with a chemist in Washington who was in the business of preparing material for patent applications.
Ed assured Grant that he had ways to protect the information while it was being processed and that it would just be a matter of time now. And money. The chemist would have to be paid. And Grant realized Ed Grinnel would also have to be paid eventually. He hoped he had enough of the money left out of the three thousand to carry the deal through. He couldn't afford a slipup now.
In the weeks following he often talked to Ed on the phone.
He no longer had to be so secretive about the affair, although he still wasn't prepared to have the whole thing out in the open.
He wasn't really sure what he was going to do when the patent was complete. Probably offer it to River Machine at a price. But who at River? The Pences? They were not really in a position to offer him anything. Judge Lessing? Perhaps. But very likely the Judge would insist on some trickery that would only keep the whole project from ever maturing, just so he could keep the control to himself.
How about Dr. Tollman who was, after all, the largest stock holder in the company? But would the Doctor really do anything, or would he just turn it over to Judge Lessing and let it drop there?
Grant realized he was going to have to come to some conclusion or he would be stuck with a very large white elephant, just as Jerry Harrod had been. He had no intention of that. He was determined to make something of this and get himself out of the bottomless pit he had gotten into.
In the meantime, there were other things to take care of.
On Tuesday afternoon he left the office and went home. He and Louise were seeing Dr. and Mrs. Tollman off at the airport. They were going on another tour. This time to Australia.
After the plane had gone out of sight, they went home, and Grant saw no reason to go back to work.
Louise was doing some volunteer work for a pet charity of her mother's, and she too decided to stay home.
She was becoming more and more involved in working for this or that cause, and they spent very little time together, compared to the earlier days of their marriage.
There seemed to be no slackening of their ardor for each other. But some of the newness had worn off, and at least they had reached the point that they could stay alone together without undressing.
In the evening they went out to eat and then came home to settle down for the night. They turned on the television, something they seldom did for neither of them really cared for it.
Each of them was reading and paying very little attention to the program until it was interrupted for a news bulletin.
An airliner, Western Flight 131, after stops at Louisville and St. Louis, had crashed into a mountainside in Colorado, killing everyone aboard.
Dr. and Mrs. Tollman were on Flight 131 headed for San Francisco.
Louise went into a state of shock. For days and weeks she was kept under heavy sedation by a doctor who had been a close friend of Dr. Tollman.
The doctor decided it would be best to move her back into Dr. Tollman's house so Jennifer, the Tollman's maid, could help take care of her.
Grant only went to work when absolutely necessary and spent most of his time with Louise. He and Jennifer nursed her slowly back to near health, mostly by the simple methods of love and kindness and attention.
Grant and Jennifer (He called her Jenny when no one was around) had been good friends from the beginning, and they got to know each other even better during the trying days with Louise. Each built up a respect for the other's devotion and tireless ability. They found they had many things in common in their backgrounds and ambitions.
Grant learned that Jenny was much better educated than he had always expected a maid to be. He also found that she was truly a female underneath the outward appearances. He never really did anything or said anything in a suggestive way to her. But there were instances where it was necessary for them to come into physical contact with each other. She always blushed and reacted in such a way that made it obvious that she was aware that he was a man and she was a woman.
But they never actually discussed the subject.
Finally, when Louise had recovered sufficiently and the matters had been settled with the airline, Judge Lessing called and informed them it was time to turn their attention to the Tollman estate. He even sounded as if he were apologizing for bringing it up, but it was agreed he would come to the Tollman house the following day and bring the will for the reading.
Actually, they hadn't given much thought to the matter of a will, under the recent strain of Louise's illness. But Grant knew it was best to get it settled. He almost looked forward to it.
When Judge Lessing arrived the next day, he wasn't the cool picture of a calculating lawyer that he usually presented. He was nervous, and his face was flushed as if he was extremely embarrassed by his own presence.
He barely spoke to Grant, devoting all his attention and apologies to Louise. He spoke unnecessarily long, Grant thought, about his admiration for and devotion to Dr. and Mrs. Tollman.
Finally he opened his brief and produced the will. Rather than read the will he started explaining it in faltering phrases.
"I don't know whether you were aware of it, Louise, but your father recently made a new will. You see, he ... Well, I'm sure you're aware of how the Doctor and Mrs. Tollman felt about your marriage to Mr. Morgan. That is to say, they highly approved of Morgan's effort to make a living for you and a family and all that. That's why when Dr. Tollman called me about getting a job for Morgan at River Machine, I ... "
Grant interrupted:
"Would you please stick to the will and the facts, Mr. Lessing? You're not here to pass judgement on me or my wife."
"Well, as I was saying, Dr. Tollman wanted you two to have a chance to prove yourself and make a go of it without interference from him. He also was very enthusiastic about having grandchildren. Both of them were, as you know, I'm sure. Well, you see, he ... Or perhaps I should say we ... We drew up this new will which directs that all his property and holdings be left to his grandchildren in trust. In the event there are no grandchildren in a specified period of time it goes to a medical research foundation with which Dr. Tollman has long been associated. Less the cost of administrating the estate, of course. You do understand, I'm sure ... that...."
Now that he had said it, the perspiration was flowing down his forehead.
"And, I assume," Grant said, "that you are named as the one to administer the estate until or if it is properly disposed of. Am I correct?"
"Well, naturally, Dr. Tollman and I have been friends and associates for a long ... "
"I think you better leave now, Judge. Louise and I will be in touch with you soon for working out the final papers. At the moment, however, she's not well enough to concern herself with such things."
"Well, you see, Mr. Morgan, there is the matter of this house too. I'm sure it would be all right for Louise to stay here until she ... "
"Your hat, Judge. I'll see you to the door. Now."
Louise hardly spoke through all of it. She was still not completely over the shock of the recent events.
Grant stopped Judge Lessing in the hall just before they reached the door.
"Let's get one thing straight, Lessing. My wife will stay here as long as she chooses to. She, and she alone, will decide when she wants to leave here. And if she wants to leave here. Do you understand?"
"There's no need to get belligerent, Mr. Morgan. This is all very legal and proper, I assure you. And I have been charged with the responsibility of ... "
"The fact of the matter is, as I see it, that you engineered this neat little take-over at the expense of Dr. Tollman's foolish generosity. You've been conning him for so long, this probably wasn't very hard at all!"
"It is just possible I put the idea in his head and then helped him put it into words. But I'd watch my threats, Mr. Morgan. You still work for me, you know, and I'd hate to ... "
"I'm curious to see what a real lawyer would have to say about this little episode, Lessing."
"I don't think that would be wise, Mr. Morgan. Some people might just get curious as to why you don't go ahead and have children and settle it that way. I'm sure we wouldn't want this whole affair to become messy."
"Just what are you driving at?"
"I think you know as well as I. It just happens I have ways of checking the so-called war records of you ex-heroes. And when you thought you could move in and marry the rich daughter and make off with a fortune, I decided to do a bit of checking. I wasn't disappointed."
"You miserable little son of a bitch, I should break your neck right now. But I think I'll wait. Just remember this. Wherever you go in the next few months, I'm going to be on your ass. I'm going to ride you into the ground. Someday you'll crawl on your knees to me, and I'll kick your goddamn teeth in!"
Grant opened the door with his left hand and with his right he grabbed Lessing's lapels and shirt and pushed him out across the brick porch. He landed, holding his hat, a clutter of papers spilling from the briefcase. Hurriedly he picked up the mess, clutched it to his belly as he ran for the car.
Grant didn't even watch him. He went back to Louise who was sitting in her room looking out at the river far below.
He went to her and put his arm around her shoulder. She reached up and took hold of his hand, still looking out the window. Grant was the first to speak:
"I'm sorry, Louise. You've been through so much lately. And now this. I feel as if I've let your whole world crash down on top of you."
"Grant darling. Please don't blame yourself. You certainly had nothing to do with Mother and Dad's accident. And without you, Pm sure I couldn't have survived the shock of it. I don't think I'd have wanted to.
"As far as the inheritance, maybe Dad was right. Who knows what would happen to change us if we suddenly had all of it to worry about and manage? As to the house, I think I'll be kind of glad to get out of here and back to our own home. This place has too many memories that are best pushed back into their proper place, not lived with every hour of every day. Besides, the house will still be here if we want it, won't it?"
"I have a feeling Lessing will try to move into it himself."
"Surely not! That crude old man with his strange tastes would ruin it!"
"I'll fight him. But I think it'll take a fight."
"The fight may be easier than you think. If my calculations are right, I'm two weeks late this month. So nature may defeat the dear judge after all!"
Grant realized she was skipping a menstrual period simply because of the shock and medication she had been exposed to. But he saw no good sense to handing her another letdown on top of all the other misfortunes she had suffered recently.
Instead, he suggested that she take a nap, and tomorrow, if she felt up to it, they'd begin preparations for moving back home. She offered to start packing immediately, but he wouldn't allow it. He had no intention of letting Judge Lessing push them out like Gypsies who couldn't pay the rent.
She agreed to take the nap if he'd let her sleep on the couch where she was sitting. So Grant got a large comforter and pillow from the closet.
When he got back to the couch she had removed all her clothing and was lying on her side on the couch, her hands under her head for a pillow and her knees pulled up in front of her.
"I want to snuggle up and get warm and take a real good nap and nothing feels better than being naked and wrapped up in a comforter," she said.
"Raise up a little and let me put it under you before you lie down."
She sat up at one end of the couch while he spread the quilt and pillow, then she lay back on it on her back.
He wrapped her up snuggly, with just her face showing, then bent over and kissed her on the lips.
Her hands came out and held his face softly. With her eyes closed, she whispered:
"Kiss my pussy, darling. It's been so long."
He lifted the covers back and her legs were spread in front of him. Gently he bent down and kissed the neat crease between the hairs.
Her soft hands then pulled his face back to hers as his free hand placed the covers back over her weak but beautiful body.
"That's all I wanted. It's been so long and I've been so sick. When we get back home I want to make up for lost time. Will you?"
"Just you lay here and dream about it, and maybe you can dream up a new way we can do it."
"I can't imagine how that would be!"-Grant tucked her in again and stood up. When he walked around behind the couch and looked back at her, she looked as if she'd already gone to sleep, smiling.
Even in her present weakened condition she was an astoundingly beautiful woman. No longer a girl.
A woman that radiated basic, raw sex. Grant was aroused by it, and the growing discomfort at his crotch needed to be satisfied as only she could satisfy.
He turned his mind to more urgent subjects of the moment, however, realizing that this could wait. But some other things had to be done now, while she was asleep.
There was the secret hiding place Dr. Tollman had shown him down behind the bar. He had to get there before anyone else.
He had no idea what he might find there, but whatever it was, he wanted first look at it. Somehow, he might get a clue or something with which to fight Lessing.
He walked into the bar, then went straight to the drawer that he had seen Dr. Tollman get the money from. He pulled it out until it stopped. It looked just like any other drawer. Perhaps he had the wrong one. Then he found what he was looking for. One of the nails holding the wood together was sticking out just a little. He pushed on it and the drawer released, came the rest of the way out. Then his heart sank. There was a combination lock on the safe door.
He started to close the drawer and forget it, when the obvious hit him. This was a Blessitt safe lock, like thousands he had sold when he worked for them. It was one of the economy models that couldn't be reset. The combination was set at the factory and couldn't be changed.
Now if he could just remember the method for decoding the combination from the serial number stamped around the edge of the dial. The salesmen were not supposed to know the method of decoding, but he had discovered it and made a mental note of it years ago.
He took a pencil and paper and copied the number. After a few minutes of calculation he had what he thought was the combination. He tried it and the safe was open before him.
He was surprised to find no money. He was glad, actually, because he didn't really want to be a thief,-he just wanted information and notes. Evidently the three thousand Dr. Tollman had given him was the last money hidden here.
He did find something else, however, that surprised him. Dr. Tollman had written himself a memo of the transaction with Grant. It was on a plain sheet of paper with the date and the words "Grant Morgan, three thousand dollars," and his signature. He had signed it with some flourish, like someone that enjoys signing his signature to things but doesn't often get the chance.
Grant thought this was so much like Dr. Tollman to sign his signature to a sheet of paper and hide it in a safe like a youngster playing a game. This little bit of privacy seemed to mean so much to him.
As he was looking through the rest of the papers, he didn't notice Jenny enter the room from another door leading to the basement portion of the other end of the house.
He looked up just as she said:
"Well, hi there. I didn't know you were down here."
He realized she had seen everything, so he saw no reason to try to hide what he was doing. He stood up and laid the papers on the bar. She approached the bar from the front and pulled out one of the stools.
She was wearing a wrap-around bath robe and her hair was obviously wet, wrapped in a small towel.
The way the robe was wrapped, he could tell she was wearing no bra, and he made a quick mental summation of what else she was or wasn't wearing.
When she climbed upon the stool sidesaddle, she wasn't especially protective of the legs that showed in the front opening of the robe. She made no outward display of them. She just let it happen naturally as she might if she were alone.
"Could I borrow a cigarette, Grant? I left all my stuff in the shower down there," and she pointed to the door through which she had entered. "I spilled some cleaning fluid all down my front, and I decided I'd better get it off quickly."
"You certainly should," Grant said.
He'd never seen Jenny smoke before, and he was mildly amused to find this out. He also wondered what would happen if he offered her a drink.
He got two glasses and chose a bottle of the Doctor's finest bourbon.
"Want anything in it?" he asked, not asking her if she wanted a drink.
"It would be a sin to dillute such delicious stuff. And that's not one of my particular sins. Thank you."
She sipped the expensive bourbon with the air of a lady of the world. They could've been a rich young couple on a yacht in a Monaco harbor for all the world to see.
"Jenny, did you know about Dr. Tollman's little hiding place down here?"
"Yes. He showed me once. Not many people knew about it. But I'm not surprised he showed you. How did you get the safe open? Surely he didn't give you the combination."
"No. I used to sell locks just like this. I might have even sold this one. And I remembered how to open them."
"Did you find anything? Or would you rather I minded my own business?"
"No, I don't care if you know. Perhaps now is the time to discuss it. Do you know about the will and Judge Lessing?"
"Yes, I heard. I felt I was entitled to a little eavesdropping, since my future is at stake also. And I didn't like what I heard. Have any ideas?"
"Not yet. What do you know about Judge Lessing? Do you think I'd stand a chance fighting him?"
"Not really. He's cunning and he's crooked. The 'Judge' bit is a farce. He was once appointed to a short fill-in term as a magistrate of some sort, and since then he's carried the title for prestige. But he does have ambitions for political office. What he needs now is social prestige and money. For that reason, I feel sure he'll expect to move in here. And the Doctor's money will never quite make it to that medical research project. He'll give them a few dollars at a time to keep up a front, but you can feel sure the entire estate will eventually be sold through middle men to Lessing."
"Jenny, what strange power did he have over Dr. Tollman?"
"It was no magical power. It was just that he was a nibbler. And Dr. Tollman was gullible. Dr. Tollman was generous to a fault. I could get anything I wanted out of him. And so could almost anyone. And Lessing is just greedy and cunning enough to take advantage of the situation."
"I suppose you're right. You see this?" He showed Jenny the paper noting the three thousand dollars. "I asked him for two thousand dollars down here one night, and he insisted I take three.
And this is the record of it. It's not even an IOU. It has his signature, not mine."
"That's Dr. Tollman, all right. I know what you mean."
"I only wish I had asked him for more, now. I wouldn't have been hurting him. I always intended to ask him to sell me his stock in River Machine & Tool. But I never had anything to offer in return. Now I wish I had just come right out and asked him to give it to me."
"There may be a way yet," Jenny said.
Her glass was empty and so was his. This time she refilled them.
"What do you mean?"
She took a sip from the glass, enjoyed the taste slowly. She avoided looking him in the eye.
"I happen to know the original River stock certificates are in this house. He let Lessing run the company, but he never actually turned the certificates over to him. See if they're in the safe there."
Grant dug back into the safe and found a tattered brown envelope. Sure enough, it contained the yellowed stock certificates.
"So we've got them. Mere possession of these papers doesn't mean a thing. There has to be a transaction. He would have to transfer them to me. I'm sure Lessing wouldn't sell them to me at any price, even if I had the money, which I don't."
"But you've got a piece of paper there with Dr. Tollman's signature on it and a date and an amount of money in his own handwriting. No one could question that, could they?"
"No, but ... "
"Just suppose that paper read: 'Sold to Grant Morgan for three thousand dollars and other considerations, all my holding in River Machine & Tool Company.' Dated and signed. Witnessed and notarized. Then what would we have?"
"I see what you mean. Lessing just might have to let us get away with it."
Grant was staring at the paper, visualizing in his mind how the wording could be typed in and how it would look. Then another thought hit him.
"But how would I get it witnessed and notarized?"
"My father's a Notary Public back home. He'll take care of the whole thing. It would be perfectly legal when he got through with it. And I'm sure I could get him to do it."
Grant was now out from behind the bar, pacing up and down, looking at. the paper, nervously. Jenny was still sitting on the stool facing the bar.
He suddenly had an impulse to turn her around and talk to her more and get closer to her.
In his preoccupation with the paper, he hadn't noticed that she had let the robe fall to the sides, and she was sitting with her naked front to the bar.
When he put his hand on her shoulder and turned her around, she sat on the stool, facing him, completely naked except for the loose sleeves of the robe.
They both stood still for a moment as if a bell had sounded in the distance. She made no attempt to cover her body as he took it in, wide-eyed.
She was taller and a little heavier than Louise but equally beautiful. Her long, dark hair contrasted shockingly with her white skin. The almost-too-large breasts were tipped with brown buds that looked as if they had been made and put there by a sculptor. The black hair from the triangle between her long legs trailed off in a thin line up across her navel, over the slight mound of her stomach. Her waist trimmed in but not to the unhealthy look of some women. It looked as if her hips were made to fit a man's hands.
"Grant, am I that ugly and unattractive?"
"You're a fabulous woman. I just ... "
Grant couldn't help but stare, and the more he stared the more aroused he became. His cock was now straining against his pants.
Jenny stood up, pushed her body against him, and put her arms around his neck. They kissed feverishly, mouths open, tongues darting and searching.
He felt one hand leave his neck and go down to his belt buckle. Then his belt and fly were open, and his pants dropped to the floor. Then his shorts. And her hand was guiding the great rod to its destination, rubbing the knob on various tender spots as it moved.
She backed onto the stool and pulled him with her with very little effort. Her legs were now around him, spreading the opening and urging him into it. Their bodies moved in instinctive unison and he was surprised at the amount of movement she got, even propped on the stool as she was.
Slowly she leaned back, and his face came down to the huge breasts. He removed one of his hands from behind her hip and cupped the breast, bringing it into his mouth. He stuffed as much as he could into his mouth and sucked savagely, still pumping his might into her.
She was now leaning back in the middle but with her pelvis hunched forward to him. She had lowered her hands down to his naked hips and was pulling him into her deeper and deeper, even though with each hunch the hairs of her cunt and his pubic hair were rubbing and had become wet with her juices.
Just when he thought he could hold his heavy load no longer, she clawed his hips with her fingernails and said:
"I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming ... "
With an extra deep plunge, he started spurting his milky fluid into her.
They slowed to a gradual stop and each lay over the bar, panting. It was he that finally poured drinks and lit their cigarettes. She spoke:
"Well, if you were wondering what's in this little stock deal for me, now you know. Did you mind too much?"
"I'd be a damned liar if I didn't admit I enjoyed it. I was just a little surprised, that's all. How long have you been thinking about it?"
"Since shortly after you came here. I soon realized what you had to offer a woman. Then I happened into the room one day when you and Louise were...." She seemed embarrassed momentarily, then she went on, "Anyway, I saw enough to let me know for sure. I backed out of the room quietly, and you never knew I was there. But I've been thinking about it ever since. I knew I'd have to seduce you if I ever got it, and I decided today it was now or never. I still think it was worth it."
"Do you get very much sex?"
"A little. But not nearly enough for a woman of my needs. Not the kind I want. Oh, there's always some old fogey trying to get a feel. But that's not what I need. You've got what I need. Not many men have."
She reached over and caressed his semi-soft cock and then held it snugly in her hand. It soon revived and strained under her grip.
Grant was still leaning on his elbow on the bar, turned slightly facing Jenny who was on the stool next to him.
She let the bath robe fall off her arms and fall to the floor. Then she was back to him, unbuttoning his shirt.
"May I?" she asked.
"Why not?" he said, as if to himself. "In a short time I've caused my wife to be disinherited of her rightful fortune. I've become a safe cracker and conspired to commit forgery and theft by deception. And then I committed adultery with my wife's maid and trusted friend."
He was talking as if to no one and without looking at Jenny. But his body was obviously aware of what she was doing.
"Well, Grant, does that make me the dirty little whore and conspirator?"
"No, perhaps you're the only honest one among us. You know what you want and go after it. No holds barred and no strings attached. I've busted my ass for the past few years and tried to pretend I was something that I wasn't and maybe never could be. I suppose you also know I'm sterile and can't get Louise pregnant."
"I figured it out."
"I should've known you would. And I don't give a damn, really. I don't give a damn for anything from now on. As of this day, it's Grant Morgan against anybody or anything that gets in my way. I take what I can get and what I want. There are some people in this town I want to step on. And I don't intend to be very careful how I step."
She was standing up beside him now, her large, firm breasts separated by his right shoulder. His right hand fondled her, and her hands played over his body, inch by inch.
"I hope I'm not one of those you want to step on, Grant."
"No, I have other plans for you, Jenny. Let me give you a sample."
He picked her up and carried her to a large, circular rug in the middle of the room. It had deep, rich green pile and foam padding under it.
When he laid her on her back she held him tightly around the neck for an extended kiss, then her hands began to explore his body again.
He moved his kisses down her neck to the valley between her breasts, and her hands gently coaxed his body around so that she faced up under his chest. As his tongue trailed a wiggling, maddening path over her nipples and down to her navel, she too sucked deeply on his nipple and then inserted her tongue into his navel.
Now he was on his side, and she was enveloping the great knob in her mouth. With one hand she softly, lightly went back and forth on the straining length of dick, while the other hand explored and tickled all of the sensitive nerves in his crotch and on his thighs.
His tongue and lips were searching blindly but purposefully over the lips between her legs, into the wet and hot cunt and out again. He got the erect clitoris between his lips, massaged it until she moaned with delight and was ready to explode, then dropped it and tormented the sensitive lips and valleys around it. Time after time he took her to the summit but would not let her leap off into the thin air of bliss.
When he felt her body quiver uncontrollably and realized she was about to faint, he reversed his body quickly, and in one endless motion sank his great shaft to the hilt and began long, deep strokes without changing the momentum.
She was coming in spasms of wetness that he could feel dripping down his testicles, but he had no intention of letting up. He poured his own liquid fuel to the fire and still kept the rhythmic pumping at a killing pace.
Her face was wet now with her tears, and her head rolled from side to side, but she continued to roll and grind her hips under him. Her chin jutted up into the air, straining every muscle in her body, and she cried under her gasps.
"Oh, God, God, God, Pve got to come again, but I can't ... "
Grant raised upon his knees now and gripped her tighter behind the sweating hips. He pulled her body as a unit into his crotch as the knob of his cock searched for even more unexplored nerves deeply within her. And then they were both coming again and panting and thrusting their bodies at each other, like weapons.
And then they lay exhausted on the rug for a long moment, hugging one another, moving a finger now and then but not really moving at all.
When their breathing had settled to near normal and their bodies came alive again, they slowly untangled arms and legs. Grant rolled onto his back, and Jenny got up on her feet, weaving dizzily. She poured two large drinks and lit two cigarettes, brought them back to the rug. Neither had spoken yet. When each had taken a long drink and a draw from the cigarettes, Jenny spoke:
"Grant?"
"Yes?"
"When you take over River Machine or whatever it is you're going to do, will you give me a job so I can stay around?"
"If that's what you want. I can't promise much now, but...."
"I don't want much. I just want to be near you sometimes. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine anything like what you just gave me.
And I don't want to lose it. I'm not asking you to love me or romance me or give me any special favors. Just do that to me once in awhile, and I'll do anything to anyone that you want me to."
She finished her drink and put the glass to the bar. Then she picked up her robe and the piece of paper with Dr. Tollman's signature on it. She waved the paper to him to show she was taking it and went back through the door to the basement shower.
CHAPTER NINE
Jenny took a short vacation with her parents in Frankfort immediately after helping Grant and Louise move back to their own home. And it was agreed that she would live with them for a while after she came back, in order to get a job and get her affairs straightened out.
Now, suddenly, she was more or less their equal, no longer a maid. It was apparent they couldn't afford a maid, and actually she was not interested in being one. She had liked being a maid for the Tollmans because of the high income she received and bonuses and living in the large, comfortable house. But now that was all behind her, and she certainly had no desire to work for Judge Lessing in any capacity.
When she returned the following week, she had the paper showing the River stock sale properly filled out, notarized, and witnessed. It looked very official and proper.
Grant decided to confront Lessing with the matter before starting on the new plastic process. He figured Lessing wouldn't be as hard to handle if he thought the company was near bankruptcy. If he knew about the plastic and the possible fortune it represented, it would be next to impossible to deal with him.
Grant didn't want to lock horns in an open fight to the death with Lessing just yet. He wanted to take him little by little until he got him down to size, then plunge the knife deeply and swiftly and twist it a little.
On Monday morning he put out a call for Judge Lessing, asking him to come to the office. He knew none of the Pences showed up on Monday morning, and he wanted the Judge alone at first, to get the stock transfer over and done with, then settle with the Pence family.
When Lessing came in, he obviously expected Grant to want a raise or some such favor, and the Judge was in a mood to be begged. He was all smiles and generosity to the lower class, which, in the mood he appeared to be enjoying, included every living human except himself.
Grant didn't waste time with small talk. He put the paper down on his desk in front of Lessing and at the same time moved the River Machine stock certificates on his desk to show that he had them.
Lessing turned pale and didn't say anything as he read the paper. He turned it over, read it again, and was obviously examining the signature.
"It doesn't mean a thing, Morgan. Stock has to be transferred legally. This is obviously your idea of some last-minute bit of fraud. I can guarantee you it won't work. As a matter-of-fact, you're fired. Your services are no longer needed here."
"Are you ready to listen, Lessing?"
"Judge Lessing, if you please!"
"Is there any doubt about the signature?"
"No, but ... It's so foolish ... Three thousand dollars for controlling interest in a company this size! Who would believe?...."
"It says three thousand dollars and other considerations. I gave him the money just as a token. The other considerations include his esteem for me, his son-in-law. And besides, this company's stock is not sold on the open market by the stock exchanges so he had a right to set any price for it he chose. Am I correct so far, Lessing?"
"I'll fight you in court, Morgan. You'll never get away with it. I don't know how you did it, but I'm sure Dr. Tollman would've told me if he did a thing like this."
"I don't think you'll fight me, Lessing. I know too much. And I've got nothing to lose by using it. You have."
Grant walked around in front of his desk next to Lessing. He stood almost a foot taller, and, as he looked down at Lessing, he had a sudden urge. His right hand whipped up and out, and he backhanded the Judge across the face, knocking him across a chair. His voice still calm, he walked back across the room and looked casually out the window. He realized from the Judge's cowering reaction that he was gaining the upper hand.
"You'll handle the transfer of the stock to my name as quickly as possible, Judge Lessing! I don't even feel in the mood to hire another lawyer to do it."
He didn't look around, but he could feel that Lessing was still sitting in the chair where he had fallen.
"I happen to know you have political ambitions. And I'm in a position to shoot you down or let you fly. At the moment, I haven't made up my mind which I'm going to do. But while I'm making up my mind, I'm sure I'd be impressed if you did this friendly little favor for me. After all, River Machine is just a drop in the ocean compared to the loot you're getting away with. And the company's almost bankrupt, anyway, thanks to you and the Pence family."
Secretly, Grant wondered what dark secret or secrets Lessing harbored, that he was so fearful of. Apparently he thought Grant knew more than he did. Plus the fact of his fanatical fear of physical violence. But he still had to put up some showing of a front.
"What makes you think you have any power to help or hinder me, Morgan?"
"I think you know what I'm talking about, Lessing. But just keep this in mind as well. If you give me this transfer, it'll be something for me to cling to and work with. Something to tie me down. I may even go broke, who knows? But ... "
Grant hesitated, started a cigarette, and walked back to face Lessing.
"But if I don't get this, I'll be completely loose. I'll have nothing. Which means I'd be free to do as I please with nothing to lose. Now just supposing that I, in a moment of mental anguish over what you've done to me because of my sterile balls, decided to cut your balls out and mail them to the newspaper. I can't imagine anyone wanting to vote for a man who's had his balls cut out and spread all over the front page of a newspaper."
Lessing stood up and stared, wide-eyed. Fear gripped his features and he was very pale.
"No, Morgan! Even you wouldn't ... "
"But how can you be sure?"
Before he finished the sentence Grant raised his knee to the Judge's groin almost lifting him off the floor. He fell back in the chair, this time doubled up in pain, cursing and holding his genitals. Morgan was afraid he would puke on the floor, but he enjoyed the scene.
When Lessing had had sufficient, time to recover, Grant kicked his hat and briefcase, which had fallen to the floor, over to where the Judge was still sitting with his head hung.
"How long will it take?" he asked Lessing.
"A day or two, perhaps. I'll notify you when everything's in order and you can have the papers picked up."
"I think it would be better if you brought them to me. I want you to be here when I have my conference with the Pence family. I don't want any misunderstandings."
"Very well, if you insist. Frankly, it will be good to be through with you, Morgan. I ... "
"Who knows? Even this may not be the end of our close ... uh ... friendship, my dear Judge. But for the time being, as you say, it will be good!"
They were at his office door, and Grant made a display of ushering Lessing into the outer office.
As he walked out, obviously favoring his sore groin, Grant gave him an overly cheerful and courteous good-bye.
Tilly, the old-maid secretary, put a piece of gum in her mouth to stifle a smirk and giggle. Grant decided she must know a great deal about dear Judge Lessing. He would keep her when he took over.
The following day, sooner than expected, Judge Lessing showed up in the outer office with the papers he had promised.
This time he had five of the members of the Pence family with him, including Eric Pence who considered himself president of the company.
Grant wondered if it was because the Judge was afraid to meet him alone or because he wanted to get the whole matter out in the open and shift the blame to Grant instead of himself. He wondered how much Lessing had told the Pences. They went into Grant's office and closed the door.
"Did you bring the papers I requested, Judge?"
"It is all in order."
Grant took the papers and examined them to his own satisfaction. Then he began:
"I don't know how much Judge Lessing has told you men, but I'll spell it out. I have recently acquired all of Dr. Tollman's interest in River Machine, which as you know, is more than fifty percent of the entire company. This means, of course, that I'm now in control of the company.
"For a long time, too long, in fact, this company's been in the hands of lazy, incompetent management. Everyone has wanted to take without giving. The company has survived through no fault of yours but has not prospered and gone ahead as the founder intended. I personally think there's a great potential here, and I intend to de-velope it.
"However, as of midnight tonight I'm president and chairman of the board of this company, and the services of the other previous officers of the company are no longer needed. You're still free to come and go as stockholders, minor stockholders, I might add. But your relationship to the company is merely in the capacity of whatever voting stock you may have in your name. You'll have no offices here and no salary or power whatever.
"I may decide to buy some of your stock from you later, one of you at a time as you need to sell it. But not at the moment."
Grant paused to let the message sink in.
"I can assure you there'll be no stock dividends for quite some time, because I have some plans for expansion, and we'll need all the capital we can get. I may decide to hire some of you for working jobs, if you're willing to work, since you should be familiar with some of the company functions. But you must understand you're working for me. And I mean working! Any of you who may be interested should contact me within a week and apply for the job you think you can handle. Any questions?"
"When do you want our offices cleared out?" Eric Pence finally asked.
"I suggest you take your personal things with you when you leave today. I've taken the liberty of freezing all money, both cash and checking. I'll have to approve any checks written in the future, just in case anyone get's a brilliant idea. Just as soon as you've cleared everything out that you want, I have plans to rearrange the office area and make it more workable and efficient. Tilly Hardesty and I will start on it in the morning. "
Grant was anxious to get the meeting over with and to avoid lengthy discussions and arguments. He felt sure there were many arguments brewing in the minds in the room, but he hoped to dump the whole matter on Judge Lessing and let them all argue with him.
He felt the best way to maintain his advantage of the moment was to end the meeting with an air of finality. Opening his office door, he was pleased to see that all of the men filed out of the room, grumbling among themselves but not to him, and headed for their individual offices.
While the door was open, he asked Tilly to come in. Then he closed the door behind her.
"Tilly, are you aware of what's just taken place here?"
"Not completely. But I'm under the impression that you've come into Dr. Tollman's stock and are now the head of River Machine. Is there more to it than that?"
"A little. But that about covers it. Do you owe any allegiance to Judge Lessing that would prevent you from staying on and working for me?"
"Certainly not. I've known him for many years, but I certainly don't owe him anything. As a matter-of-fact, I think I'd like to stay around and see what happens to River Machine, with you running it. I must say, however, I'm surprised the Judge ever let go of the stock."
"I think he was somewhat surprised too. I'll tell you about it sometime. But I have some big plans. And I have a feeling you know more about this business than anyone else. I'd like to promote you to office manager and have you take over the running of all this paper work, a lot of which I have been doing myself, as you know. Are you interested? Oh, there will be a raise in it, of course."
"I'm very flattered, Mr. Morgan. Of course I'm interested. And grateful for the opportunity. Again, though...." She seemed to have something on her mind but at a loss of the right words.
"What is it, Tilly? You should speak frankly now, if there's something wrong. Later may be too late."
"Frankly, Mr. Morgan, it's just that my impression of you has been that, well, I thought you'd want young, attractive girls. I'm aware that I'm just a homely old maid. Why me?"
"You mean I have a reputation as a cock hound?"
"I might not use such colorful language, but it is an openly discussed fact that all the little female bodies tingle when you go through the office. From the way they talk, I just assumed you had been ... shall we say 'entertaining' some of them?"
"Sorry to disappoint you, Tilly. But, no, I have not been entertaining any of them. However, it might be an idea worth thinking about. Seriously, though, let me say a few things about why I chose you. You may be an old maid; you may be a virgin; you may be a street whore. That's your own business. But you know your job, and I've noticed, you work hard. In the next few years there's going to be more hard work around here than you can imagine. I have a patent on a new kind of plastic that's very cheap to produce and very good material when finished. We're going to expand many times over our present size and make raw plastic, in addition to finished plastic products. I want the kind of people here that can keep up the pace.
"I'm giving you freedom to hire an office force of your own choosing and set up office procedures to go along with whatever we need. I want to set up a personnel department to hire new workers and get the most out of the ones we have.
"As to the women, or men, for that matter, that you hire to help you here in the office, I only specify that they're producers. And by that I mean I don't want to turn them down just because they're good looking or like to indulge in sex.
"And that brings up the last thing. You're going to find out things about me that'll shock you. You'll witness certain actions on my part that you don't approve of. All I'm asking is to ignore it, let me worry about my own actions and mistakes. I intend to get very rich in the shortest time possible. I'm going to cut corners and some people are going to get hurt. You won't be one of them, if I can prevent it. If I have to ruin somebody to get my way, they'll be ruined. If I have to lay somebody's wife across my desk and screw her, she'll get laid. As a matter-of-fact, I might even ... "
Without finishing the sentence and to get her off guard, he put his left arm around Tilly, kissed her fully on the lips, passionately, and fondled her momentarily under her dress with his right hand. After the initial start and flinching, she didn't resist. Just as he expected and hoped...." I might just decide to lay you across my desk."
She blushed profusely and picked up her pencil and pad.
"Are you with me, Tilly?"
"I'm with you, Mr. Morgan. You're the boss, as far as I'm concerned from now on, with no questions asked. This might turn out to be quite an adventure after all!"
And she looked him straight in the eye as she went out the door.
Grant smiled to himself and thought: Well, there's one employee that'll work her ass into an early grave for me. It's a start.
CHAPTER TEN
The same day that Jenny Perry got back from her visit with her family, Ed Grinnel arrived in Louisville.
Ed explained that he had decided he needed a short vacation from the Washington rat race, so he would bring the patent papers to Grant in person. Grant had a feeling Ed was more curious than anything else and wanted to know what was going on. Grant had told him quite a bit, but there were still some things they couldn't discuss over the phone as they could in person. Grant also knew Ed was anticipating some female companionship.
Grant had an idea. He called Jenny and asked her to come to his office at River Machine. He didn't tell her why. But he knew what she would think and so much the better.
When she arrived it was obvious he had guessed right. The way she handled her body and left openings for Grant to start his seduction made it obvious what she wanted and expected. But Grant had other ideas at the moment.
"Jenny, are you still willing to go to work here?"
"I'm counting on it. What do you want me to do?" An obvious statement rather than a question.
"Believe it or not, the job I have in mind is that of traveling salesman. But before I explain that, I have another job for you.
"Ed Grinnel, who's the Washington attorney who arranged the patent papers on the new plastic process for me, is in town. The patent is now completed enough that we can go to work on it, setting up the machinery to start processing. But I need money, and I need brains, and I need pull in the right places. I need Ed Grinnel. But I don't have enough money to buy him as a full-time worker. I might persuade him with a partnership, but I'm too greedy for that. I don't want to split with anybody.
"But I think you have something that would persuade him to stay. I'm going to set up a dinner date for the four of us tonight. Ed's a very nice looking young fellow, and I think you'll really like him. But I want you to prove to me just how female you can be. I'm going to introduce you as a female executive of this company, rather than as Louise's former maid. What you tell him later, I don't care. What you do with him, I don't care. Except for one thing. I want you to get him so shook for you that you can con him into staying on here and working for me on my terms. Then the second part of the plan starts.
"You remember I mentioned I wanted you to be a traveling salesman. Pardon me, saleswoman. Well, for the time being you're going to be Vice-President and Sales Director. Possibly even permanently. I want to spend about a week with you here, telling you what you need to know and whom to contact. Then you're going to take a trip for me. To Washington, Atlanta, Birmingham, and some other towns where there are large government installations that are in a position to buy in large quantities. I need some government contracts so I can get a special loan from the government at a good rate and with some special terms on pay-back.
"I've seen it done before, and I know what you can do. You can act, and that's what it takes. You've rubbed elbows with the very rich and the very ambitious. You can be a noble rich lady or a passionate whore. You're going to use your talent and your body to get us started. Whether you ever get your pants off or not, is your business. I don't care how you do it. I just want it done. You're going to sell contracts on material when we don't even have the machinery to make it. Then Ed's going to get us the money to buy the machines to make the goods you've sold. Agreed?"
"I don't know, Grant. Do you really think I could do it?"
"I'm sure you can do it. I'll teach you all you need to know about signing a contract and making a business deal. How to handle your body as part of the deal is something Mother Nature teaches every female. And I think you must've had a graduate course."
"If I'm so sexy, why aren't you doing something about it right now?"
Grant walked over to where she was sitting on the corner of his desk. He kissed her and trailed his fingers up under her skirt and inside her lacy panties, lightly tickling the groove there. Her hand immediately began to explore his swelling prick, caressing it from outside his pants. Then he backed away.
"I want you to save your hots for Ed Grinnel tonight. You and I'll have our chances later."
"Promise?"
"I promise that when we get rolling, I'll give you all you can stand. But for now it's strictly business. Okay?"
"With a bonus like that to look forward to, I'll guarantee you I'll work night and day on it. We can do it."
During the dinner date that night Grant kept an eye casually tuned in on Ed and Jenny.
At first Louise had a hard time adjusting to the role of socializing in public with her former maid. But as time went on, Jenny's manner of conducting herself and her startling good looks seemed to have an effect on Louise, and they adjusted beautifully to their new relationship. They were near enough the same age, and they had always been closer than merely employee-employer. So the adjustment wasn't really very hard.
Ed tried repeatedly to bring up the plastic business, but Grant wouldn't discuss it. Finally, when they were alone for a moment, he told Ed he couldn't discuss it in front of Louise and asked Ed to come by the office the following morning so they could go over the whole plan. He didn't dare tell Ed what the "whole plan" really meant nor how Ed was involved in it. Instead, Ed was going to ask to be let in, if Grant had his way.
As he watched, it became obvious that Jenny was getting through to Ed the way they had intended.
After leaving the first place where they had dinner, they stopped by a new place that had a band that played especially soft, romantic music for dancing. Grant and Louise danced and left Ed and Jenny alone. Later, when he and Louise were sitting at their table and Ed and Jenny were dancing, Grant could spot Jenny's little subtle movements that were intended to set Ed on fire without making it obvious to anyone else in the room what was happening.
Then Ed danced once with Louise. Jenny took the opportunity to whisper a question to Grant.
"He wants me to go to his motel with him tonight. Should I? Or would you rather I go back with you and Louise?"
"Stay with us tonight. I don't want Louise to get any idea of what's going on, and I don't want Ed to get it yet. I want him to know that it's there and know that it's available, but he can't get it just yet."
"You're the boss, boss."
Ed was in Grant's office by nine-thirty the next morning, with something obviously on his mind. He would make a very poor poker player, Grant decided.
Grant told him the whole story from the marriage to Louise and his going to work at River until his taking the stock from Judge Lessing. However, he left out the information about his being sterile and improvised explanations of his motives and actions in some places. He also left out the part about his episodes with Jenny.
He did, however, tell what Jenny's job was at River. But he didn't make it clear how he intended to get the government loan, letting it appear that he might attempt to handle it himself.
"I'm in no hurry to get back to my office. A few weeks wouldn't hurt a thing. Grant, would you think I was nosing in if I offered to help out on the part about getting the loan? That's right up my alley, and I know some people in the right places that could...."
"I appreciate your help, Ed. But I owe you too much already. As I told you, I'm just getting started, and I couldn't begin to afford to pay you what you're worth. Jenny and I will manage somehow. She's a very industrious girl."
"Well, that's kind of what I was thinking. I know how hard she'll be working and all that. But I'd kind of like to work with her. I'm sure I could help her cut some corners, and it would be a shame if she went to all that trouble and got those contracts and then you couldn't get the loan and couldn't produce what she'd sold. Jenny and I kind of understand each other and I ... "
He's hooked, Grant thought.
"But what about your law practice in Washington, Ed? It can't run itself with you here."
"The fact is, and I shouldn't tell you this when I'm jockeying with you for a position, but I'm considering leaving Washington for good, anyway. My partner was an older fellow who has a son just out of law school and wanting to get started.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Almost as if one of the gods had been waiting in the wings for Grant Morgan to request a miracle, everything started falling into place.
Jenny got the contracts and Ed got the loans, just as Grant had planned it.
With the new money and enthusiasm, Grant started collecting workers and brains and talents. At first he had to bribe and force and blackmail.
We've been discussing the possibility of my selling out to him. We'd leave my name on the door for some time, but Junior would get all the business Daddy couldn't handle. Then gradually they'd be sole partners. And I'd continue to draw an income from them over the phase-out period and get myself going somewhere else."
"I'm sure this town could use another lawyer, and this business could use a legal adviser. But it's still a matter of my not being able to afford you."
"Let me make you an offer. Give me a well-padded expense account to cover my necessary traveling and other activities for a few week's trial period. At the end of that time we'll decide what I'm worth. If it works out, I'll earn my keep and then some. If it doesn't, I'll go my way and start a law practice. Maybe here. I don't know. Deal?"
"Deal." And they shook hands, a very strange way to handle a contract between a lawyer and a businessman. But it seemed to fit the uncertainty of the moment. or get them anyway he could. Then as the word started spreading that something big was in the brew at River Machine, he had men (and women) begging him for an opportunity to get in on the action. Some were people who had turned his offers down, earlier. The second time around Grant was in a better bargaining position.
If they had talent or ability that he could use to his advantage, he hired them. But on his own terms and always with a loophole that he could use later if he needed to.
As the brains began to work for the common cause, River Machine became Grant Morgan and Grant Morgan became River Machine. No matter how hard he seemed to drive his workers, he always managed to outwork each of them.
Huge and complex buildings took shape around the old buildings. Machines were brought in to make the plastic and then shape it into usable products and supplies. Sheets, rods, tubing, extrusions. Everything from toothpaste tube caps to complex semiconductors.
Grant had Ed Grinnel form another corporation, calling it Ed Grinnel Enterprises. Grant owned all of the stock in it and ran it without question, but he didn't want his name involved. It's purpose was to buy stock in other companies so he could sell to them or buy from them on his own terms.
They even bought the entire company sometimes and made it's facilities a part of River Machine.
As they bought into other companies in other towns, it became more and more necessary for Grant to travel, and he saw less and less of Ed and Jenny and Louise.
Louise was becoming interested in pet charities and causes. Another new one almost daily.
They had moved into a new house in a fashionable neighborhood that was a dream of comfort and electronic gadgetry. She could entertain with ease and everything was done for her.
She obviously realized that money was much more plentiful than ever before since her marriage to Grant. But she never seemed to be interested in where it was coming from. She took no interest in River Machine, apparently assuming that Grant had worked hard and been promoted to a better-paying position in the company.
Grant continued to satisfy her sexual needs even on top of his other man-killing work, so she never questioned his coming or going or the long hours that he was on the job. Sometimes she went with him on a trip if he was going to a city that held some special interest for her, but she never took part in the business activities there, choosing instead to entertain herself at shows and special events.
Louise had long since given up on getting pregnant, assuming it was some malfunction on her part. She had, she reasoned, often enough felt his hot sperm penetrate her inner body in it's deepest and most sensitive cells. So she had no doubt about his capabilities.
Ed Grinnel often became a problem to Grant. When he had worked and traveled and gouged and coerced until he was at the breaking point, he would threaten to quit. But Grant would always find a way to keep him on.
Ed had developed his passion for Jenny into an aching, tormenting love. It consumed him most when he was tired and wanted to slow down and rest. And the really tormenting part of it was his knowledge of her lack of love for him.
At first he thought that if he could just have her body and give her his, it would bring them together and they would at least become lovers, if nothing more. But even on those occasions when he did get Jenny to sleep with him, he realized he was not satisfying her. And this, of course, left him unsatisfied.
Even though he spent his body and aroused her tremendous passion, it was obvious something was incomplete. Finally she let it slip. That once she had been made love to by Grant Morgan, no other man could ever fully satisfy her.
Grant found out about this triangle of which he was a part and used it to his advantage. He manipulated them in such a way that they were never in the same city together for very long. He wanted to use Jenny for the bait to keep Ed in line but never letting him get enough to really satisfy his hunger or cure him of the taste for it.
And he didn't dare let Jenny get off the hook and fall for Ed, as she might if they had enough time together.
Once Jenny came to him after an especially long and grueling trip for River Machine. She too wanted out. He could see the obvious signs of fatigue and exhaustion. Her eyes twitched at the corners, and when Grant took her in his arms and looked deeply into her eyes they were dilated and seemed to have a funny stare he hadn't seen before. When he held her tightly and kissed her, he could feel slight body convulsions that she was probably not even aware of.
"Jenny, how would you like a vacation in Bermuda? Or anywhere, for that matter. Just lie in the sun and relax. Get you a young stud and let him put some life back into you. Or a different stud each night and one each day. How about that?"
"I don't want a young stud, Grant. I want you.
Can't you get away and go with me?"
"Not now, Jenny. Please. I just can't. Pll foot the bill. Take as long as you need. I'll even send somebody with you, if you want. Anybody but Ed Grinnel. He's going to Canada for me. Isn't there someone?"
"No one could do it but you, Grant. If you won't go with me, I don't think I'll ever come back."
She was showing tears now, and Grant realized she would soon break down completely. He had to do something. He needed her. Of course he had a complete sales force, but Jenny was his ace in the hole for special jobs that needed her particular talents. No one could ever replace her in his scheme.
"I'll tell you what, Jenny. You go down for a couple of weeks and get rested up. Contact a doctor there and get him to give you some pills or something, if you need it. Anything. It's all on me. Then in the meantime I'll be arranging things so I can get away for a few days, and I'll come down and stay with you until we have to come back. How does that sound?"
She was sobbing softly on his shoulder, but he knew she'd do it.
He kept his promise because he was afraid not to. It was a mechanical thing he was doing now, using his prowess as a stud to work people.
And when they got back to Louisville after his weekend with her in Bermuda, she was a new person and ready to go out again for River Machine and Grant Morgan.
He did his job well and got what he wanted.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The man was unclean and unshaven. He wore tattered clothes, and his shoes were run-down and unpolished. He insisted on seeing Grant Morgan but would not tell his reason.
The secretary refused at first, giving the usual excuse that Mr. Morgan was not in today. But when the man stated that he had seen Morgan come into the building, he did it in such a way that made her sense there was something important involved here.
She had been hired because of her ability to take care of just such situations and sort out what was routine and unimportant and what was important enough to merit immediate attention by Mr. Morgan. She often did this without full knowledge of what was really taking place, either before or after the incident.
She decided Mr. Morgan would want to see this one. She let him in.
At first Grant didn't recognize him. It had been a long time. Then it all came back into focus. It was Jerry Harrod. The man who had invented the plastic process that had played such a large part in making Grant what he was.
"It's been a long time, Mr. Harrod. It's good to see you again."
"You may not think so a few minutes from now, Morgan."
Grant didn't like the attitude. He realized Harrod was being obstinate to give himself courage to come to the point.
"Tell me what's on your mind, Mr. Harrod, and get it over with. My time is valuable now, as you can see."
"I'll tell you exactly what's on my mind, Morgan. One million dollars. I made you what you are-a millionaire. No, I don't expect you to hand me a million dollars. All I want is my fair cut. I figure about a hundred thousand would do it. It won't break you, and it would fix me for the rest of my life. I think I deserve it."
"I paid you for services rendered, Harrod. We had an agreement, and I met my share of it. With that attitude I'm not giving you one damn cent. If you had come in here properly and asked me, I'd have been glad to hire you in research. But don't demand anything from me! Now get out!"
Harrod brought his right hand out of his coat pocket and in it he held a small revolver, the kind so many GI's brought back from overseas.
"Perhaps you misunderstand me, Morgan. I didn't come here to beg this time. I've been reading about you in the papers and magazines and how you've become the great tycoon. And you did it on my work and brains. Do you deny it?"
"I'm not denying anything. Although I don't feel I have to justify anything to you, I will tell you this much. I'm worth a hell of a lot more than a million dollars. And there was a hell of a lot more to making it than just your scratched notes and lumps of junk. It was long hours and taking chances and selling my soul for cash that did it. You didn't have the guts and I did. Now get the hell out of here!"
Grant didn't like the way Harrod was waving the gun. From the strange look in his face and the nervousness, anything could happen. He put both hands on the desk where Harrod could see them and stood up. The desk was separating them, and Grant knew he had to get closer if he was going to disarm Harrod.
He continued talking and walked around to where Harrod was now standing. As he walked up to face Harrod, he kept his hands out, a little lower than his belt, but he turned his palms up. He stopped a few feet from Harrod and stared down at him.
"I hope you filed the sights off that gun, Harrod."
"What do you mean?...."
"It won't hurt as bad when I take it away from you and shove it up your ass!"
Harrod made the mistake of pushing the gun forward toward Grant's midsection while still looking at his face.
Grant's left hand was in a perfect position under the gun. He grabbed the gun and Harrod's right hand in his grip pressing flesh against steel as hard as he could and keeping the gun pointed away from him. His right fist caught Harrod in the temple in the same motion. He repeated another pile driver in the same spot, before Harrod realized what had happened.
Harrod's limp body flew backward in the floor and Grant stood holding the gun.
He sat back on top of his desk and carefully unloaded the gun, dropped the cartriges in his coat pocket, then he pitched the empty pistol at Harrod's prostrate body, hitting him in the stomach with a thump.
This caused Harrod to stir, raise up, and shake his head. He picked up the gun, unsure of what to do with it.
"Put it in your pocket, Harrod. You might need it to blow your damn brains out sometime."
"It won't even fire, in case you're interested."
Harrod wouldn't look up now; he kept his eyes on the floor like a dog that has been caught and whipped.
"Just what the hell did you expect to get, Harrod? Do you think I keep a hundred thousand dollars lying around in a drawer?"
"No, not really. I thought I could get you to sign a contract dated at the time of our first deal and then pay me in a few days to drop it. I guess I never did really think I could get away with it, but what did I have to lose? Everything's gone."
"What about that thing you were working on to break water down to oxygen and hydrogen for fuel? Couldn't you do it?"
"Oh, I did it, all right. Any high school boy that's had chemistry can do it. But the problem was to do it cheap. You have to produce more power with the fuel than it took to break it down. And I had it figured out on paper. There were some chemicals and equipment I had to get to prove it. Then one night my wife discovered my papers and notes and burned the whole mess."
Harrod looked pitifully small and hunch-backed as he stood in the middle of the floor, his hands in his coat pockets. He still looked down at the floor.
Grant let him continue.
"With one stinking little match she wiped out all those years. All the chemicals I had mixed to be added to the water. Notes and computations that couldn't possibly be carried in anybody's head. All gone."
They stood perfectly still for a while. Finally Grant spoke:
"Now what? Think you can come up with the same thing again?"
"I'm not sure I want to. I thought if I could get enough money to get rid of her and provide for the kids, I might go away somewhere and start over. I remember some of it. But Pve been having these damn headaches lately. I seem to black out for short periods. They say I act normal, but I can't remember what happened during that time. It's the damn headache...."
Harrod's face showed the pain and confusion, but he didn't put his hand to his head, not even where Grant had hit him.
"Are you going to turn me in or not?"
"No, Harrod, I'm only concerned with taking care of myself. I don't give a damn if you're a homicidal maniac or what the hell's wrong with you. I'm not in business to help the cops. But I will make you an offer. You go home or wherever you want to go and get back to work on that fuel deal. You come up with something workable, and I'll give you enough money to let you live in luxury in Australia or South America or wherever you want to go."
Grant took out his wallet, picked out a hundred-dollar bill, and stuffed it in Harrod's coat pocket.
"When you have something to sell that I can make money with, come back to see me. But one thing, Harrod."
Harrod was now going out the door, stooped, barely dragging his feet.
"Just one stipulation, Harrod. Don't ever come back again and try what you just tried. Next time I'll solve your problems permanently."
Back to business as usual, Grant soon forgot about the meeting with Jerry Harrod. His life now was one of such speed and caotic actions that he often forgot small incidents.
But he was reminded a few days later when he noticed a small story in the newspaper about a body being fished out of the Ohio River by the men at the hydroelectric plant on the falls in Louisville's west end. This confirmed, the newspaper said, a report someone had made of seeing an object drop or jump from the bridge at Second Street a few days before. The body was identified as a Jerry Harrod who had been reported missing by his wife.
A search of his pockets produced no money or wallet or identification, just some scraps of paper containing illegible writing which at first was thought to be some chemical formula. But when checked with the police consulting chemist, he stated the chemical combinations couldn't possibly be achieved by any means known to him. It was probably just something to do with a crossword puzzle, he said.
When his wife identified the body she said she had his wallet at home but she could give no explanation of why he would consider suicide.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tilly Hardesty had taken her promotion to Office Manager quite seriously. In no time at all she was transformed from a meek follower to an executive, giving orders, formulating plans, hiring, firing, interviewing, setting up accounting procedures to produce whatever kind of figures and results Grant wanted.
Eventually Grant had her name listed on the corporate papers as Vice President, along with Ed Grinnel and Jenny Perry.
Each had a truly executive job to do, but of course none of them had actual executive power. That was retained by Grant Morgan, without question. Ed did most of the traveling and dealing in large money deals, especially with the government. He also handled questionable legal matters.
Jenny was the head, more or less, of the sales force. After the company got into full swing and involved larger and more complicated sales contracts, she seldom handled the actual signing of a contract. But it was her ability to set up the right people and make the right connections beforehand that made her valuable.
But the one thing they all had in common that made things work was a common characteristic that Grant demanded: ruthlessness. No holds barred. Grant Morgan and River Machine, at all costs. Never questioning.
Tilly was responsible for interior problems. It was her job to know who was doing what at all times. She had an intimate knowledge of every person in a responsible position in the company and many of the mere plant workers. She knew production capabilities and costs. She made it her business to weed out small but important and overlooked statistics on each branch company they owned or considered buying. She was a human computer that made Grant's activities possible.
It made Grant proud to realize that here again his judgement had been right in picking her. It also further confirmed his inner feeling that almost any person could perform near miracles i: put in the right position at the right time and had a driving force to push him or her into doing it.
Actually, Tilly had changed in other ways too. Even in physical appearance. Grant noted all of it but never mentioned it to her.
Now that she could well afford it, she wore expensive, tasteful clothes from the skin out. She went to the best beauty and body salons and had obviously been properly coached on using makeup and cosmetics to the best advantage.
When she came in one day to bring Grant a report on another company he was thinking of buying, she looked especially tired.
"Sit down in a nice comfortable chair and just tell me about it, Tilly. I'd rather hear the facts from you than read a damn report."
She sat, leaned back and poured out the facts with her own interpretations and added bits of information that she felt sure of but couldn't put on paper. This was exactly the kind of report he wanted.
Before they finished discussing the new prospective purchase, Grant opened a cabinet near his desk and it became a bar, complete with glasses, ice, mixers, and the best Kentucky bourbon his money and influence could buy.
It was something he had never done with Tilly before, but he decided to give it a try. He offered her a drink.
Somewhat to his surprise, she accepted it without hesitation. They sipped the delicious bourbon a quiet moment and let it relax their bodies. Then she spoke:
"Where is it all going to end, Mr. Morgan?"
"Where is what going to end? And why the hell can't you call me Grant after all these years?"
"You're the boss and I'm your employee ... Grant. If you insist. And I mean when or where are we ... I mean you ... going to stop expanding and taking over and forcing companies out of business and all that? Don't you ever get tired? Have you become a perpetual motion machine now?"
"Frankly, I thought I was just getting started. What if Ford or Morgan or Rockefeller had decided they'd had enough?"
The use of those names told her what she wanted to know. And what she had feared from the beginning.
"But, Grant, what good is it? If you can never complete something and be satisfied with it, then you'll always be a failure. There'll always be something else to challenge, and you're a failure until you defeat it. Don't you see?"
"I see. I've thought of the same thing myself. But it's too late. It's a passion now. I'm in too deep. There'll never be an end, I'm afraid. Have you ever had a passion that consumed you, Tilly?"
"You might be surprised. But we're not talking about me. We're talking about ... "
"No, let's talk about you for a change. I've often wondered about you. I've never seen you out with a man or even talking to one except strictly business. Has there ever been a man?"
"Yes. But it's a very dull story. You wouldn't be interested."
"Please. And pour yourself another drink. It'll do you good."
"Very well, if you insist. Yes, there was a man, if you could call him that. It was a long time ago. I was very young, and at the time he seemed much older and more mature to me. Even then, I realized I was a plain and ugly girl. My parents never allowed me to dress the way I wanted or wear the proper makeup. They made it obvious I was just ugly and it was useless to try to do anything about it. I never had dates with boys my age. At the time, I assumed it was because I was so ugly. But now that I think back about it, I feel it was partly because I had such an inferiority complex I wouldn't dare get near a boy, and when they teased me or paid attention to me I assumed they were making fun of me."
As Tilly talked and sipped the soothing liquor, she let her whole body relax. She laid her head back and talked to the ceiling. Her arms were on the broad armrests, and she let her legs fall apart. Grant noticed for the first time, perhaps, that she really was a female, after all.
She continued talking:
"When I was a teen-ager, nearing my twenties and obviously on my way to becoming an old maid, I met a man who at last took an interest in me. He wasn't handsome nor rich nor anything that a girl dreams of. But he was a man, and he made me feel like a woman.
"I soon suspected that he was more interested in my body than anything else. And in a way that suited me fine. I was in love with him enough to marry him without question, and by then I needed someone to arouse my physical passions. After a date with him, Pd go home and go to bed, and I couldn't sleep a wink for the excitement. I think you know what I mean. Sometimes I'd even try playing with myself to soothe it, but even that didn't work.
"This went on for quite some time. He'd arouse me to the point of explosion, but he'd never go ahead and do something about it. Heaven knows, I didn't resist him. At first I did, of course. But later I got so bold I'd deliberately expose my legs to him to get a petting session started. I even went without underpants on and let him know it. I told him a story about a girl friend of mine. She often told me how she and her boy friend performed oral sex on each other. And when I told him, I made it obvious that I wasn't opposed to it. But still he'd just get to a point and stop.
"Then we got serious about getting married. We set a date and began making some of the necessary preparations. One night, shortly before the marriage was to take place, I got overly excited and couldn't control myself. I made up my mind that since we were getting married, anyway, why wait. I had to get some satisfaction.
"We were in a car, petting heavily. I had my panties off and my bra and just had my arms through my blouse and my skirt around my waist, in case we were caught and had to move in a hurry. He was playing with my bottom and kissing my breasts, and I was becoming feverish. While he was occupied, I sneaked my hand down and opened his belt and zipper. Before he could stop me, I reached in to take hold of his thing and put it in me. To my shock and dismay, all he had was a little button of a thing. It was about as big as my little finger and perfectly limp. The part hanging below was hairy, but it was just two little soft blobs in loose skin.
"Suddenly, it was as if an alarm went off. We both lost interest in what we were doing. Without saying anything, I put my clothes on, he straightened his, and he drove me home. I started a few times to tell him what a despicable thing he had tried to do to me, to marry me before I found out. But I never did. I assumed he knew now how I felt, and I suppose I also felt he had received punishment enough without my help. We never talked to each other again, and I never got interested in a man again. I don't know what happened to him."
They both sat quietly for a moment. Tilly looked as if she'd almost gone to sleep. Grant took the bottle over to her chair, refilled her glass on the armrest, and bent down on his knees on the floor beside her. With one hand he soothed her forehead and kissed her on the lips, hard. With the other hand he moved up between her legs and began to fondle her cunt. When he broke the kiss slightly, she said:
"Please don't feel sorry for me. You don't have to 'service' me like a cow in heat."
With the hand that had been caressing her brow, he reached down, opened his belt and pants and pushed everything down to the floor.
"Does that feel like Pm just doing you a favor? Or because I need you?"
He felt her tender hand exploring his crotch and abdomen and then out to the swelling knob on the end of his cock.
She groaned something under her breath and put her free hand behind his head, crushing his lips against hers. At the same time she scooted farther down in the chair, freeing her arm and hand that was feeling him and also giving him a better opening to her wet crotch.
He began to feel a cool wetness on his extended rod. Then as her hand came and went on it, stroking and tipping the tender nerves, it turned to a stinging burn. When he could stand it no longer he broke from her and leaned back to see what was happening.
She had put her glass of bourbon down on the floor by her hand, and she was dousing him with the liquor and dabbing it on with her fingers. The alcohol was setting him afire, but it lost none of its hardness and seemed to be getting even longer.
He started to say something, but before he could, she rolled out of the chair and was down on her knees beside him.
"I need another drink. May I?" she said, putting the bright-red knob in her mouth, 'drinking' the liquor clinging in droplets on the big shaft. Inch by inch she went around it and over it with her tongue and lips. Kissing, licking, tickling, sucking, soothing the sting and turning it into a tormenting itch that made his skin crawl, and his body twitch.
He quickly removed her underpants and moved her skirt up to her waist, leaving her bottom half exposed. She was on her knees beside him, and he was pleasantly shocked at the smoothness and shape of her legs and abdomen and hips.
As he put his hand up to her wet hole again and started to finger her, she hunched back and forth as if masturbating herself on his working fingers.
"Now!" was all she said, and in one fluid motion she moved on top of him and started the big knob into the tight hole. And both their bodies gyrated in unison, swallowing him up into her, a little more with each push and grind, until their crotches met.
They were sailing now like ships tossed in a storm, each aware that the other was out there, touching and moving away, but too rapt in steering a course to aid the other. There was a clearing in the storm, and they broke into the sunlight side by side, still rocking violently while sailing on a sea of glass. They were both coming. Juice was meeting juice to calm the stormy sea. But they had tasted the thrill of the tempest. Neither wanted to trim sail and sit still in the big sea.
Grant rolled over on top this time, continuing the stroke and pushing her hips into the soft carpeting of the office floor. As the lurches gained in length and speed again, their four hands grasped and pulled at each other. Pulling, scratching, gripping to make their bodies one.
"Now!" she said again, and Grant slowed to long, sweeping heaves, driving all his might into her body with each stroke and dropping a glob of hot cum into her with each push. And both their bodies were spent.
He relaxed on top of her until he regained his breathing. Then he got up and lay back in his chair, resting.
She continued to lie on the floor, her legs still spread, exposing her lower body completely.
He pulled her up to a sitting position and refilled her glass and his own.
"You know," she said, "I always thought Pd be so ashamed I'd want to run and hide if it ever happened. But I don't feel that way at all. And here we are in your office with all the lights on. Is that the way I'm supposed to feel?"
"I don't know. We just did what we should've done a long time ago."
She was standing now, putting her clothes back in order, again becoming the trim, impeccable female executive that she always appeared to be.
"I just wonder how different my life would be now if I'd met a man with something like that a long time ago." And when she said "that" she pointed to his hanging, almost-limp cock.
Grant took one last swallow from his glass and started toward the small bathroom adjoining his office.
Tilly picked up her papers and started out the door. With the doorknob in one hand, she turned to him, again the prim assistant.
"I'll be in my office if you need further consultation on this purchase, Mr. Morgan."
"I'll let you know."
"Any time. You are the boss."
Grant Morgan smiled to himself.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Judge Franklin Leroy Lessing had been pushed to the back of Grant's mind for some time now.
He hadn't forgotten about the Judge. He was merely waiting for the proper time to ease off slightly on making his fortune and devote some time to getting even with Lessing.
Not really. Not just get even. That wouldn't be enough. Rather, he intended, when he set about it, to destroy Judge Lessing. And he knew he would need time and money and leverage to do the job properly.
Just as Grant had predicted he would, Judge Lessing wasted no time in moving into the Doctor Tollman mansion. He leased it to himself and simply took it over.
Also he continued to use Dr. Tollman's investments to his own advantage. By controlling such large blocks of stock he naturally had great influence over the running of a number of companies, both large and small.
He used this influence, as well as the outrageous fee he charged for managing the Tollman estate, to make investments of his own and even to take over the management of other investors. There were always old people, mostly widows and retired professional men, who allowed him to take over and manage their investments, unaware of his methods and practices.
So, as Grant watched and waited, Judge Franklin Lessing made quite a name and fortune for himself.
Finally, one morning when Grant was sitting in his office reading the newspaper and waiting for Ed Grinnel to arrive in town, it suddenly came to him that he must strike now.
There on the front page of the newspaper was a picture of Lessing and an article stating that he was being considered as the leading candidate for Governor in the upcoming election.
With the primaries on the horizon, the out-party was looking for a man to run in the fall. And, since the party in power was, at this time, in high disfavor, it was almost certain that he would win if selected in the primary election.
And so the party had decided on Judge Franklin Lessing, a wealthy lawyer and investment counselor and former judge.
The article went on and on, describing him as a pillar of integrity and progressiveness. He was a warm friend to both the rich and poverty stricken. He had answers to every question that plagued the commonwealth.
It was obvious to Grant that Lessing had even hired a public relations man to dig out the good deeds and cover up the bad. He was creating an image. Producing a salable piece of merchandise. And at the rate he was going, the public would buy it without a hitch.
Grant folded the paper and leaned back in his chair to think. He had been kicking an idea around in his head for some time but had never really taken time to settle down and work out the details.
Now was the time to start it in motion.
He picked up his phone book and turned to motels in the yellow pages. He ran his finger down the column, looking for the name he was trying to recall. When he found it he copied the name and address on a piece of paper.
Just as he was putting the phone book away, Ed came into the office.
There was the usual exchange of small talk about the trip Ed had been on, but Grant's mind was obviously not on the findings Ed had brought back.
"You don't look well, Grant. You're letting yourself get upset a lot lately. Have you thought about talking to a doctor?"
"Fuck the doctors. I know what they'd tell me, and I can't afford their kind of treatment. I've got things to do. Then I'll see what they say. Right now I've got a job for you."
"Grant! Hell! I just got in at the airport and came over here in a taxi! Can't it wait a little while?"
"There'll be time to rest soon. Then we'll all take a rest. But this can't wait too long. Go home and take a shower and a nap and a couple of your damn pills. Then you can do this after lunch."
Grant handed Ed the paper with the name of the motel on it.
"This is a motel out on Dixie Highway. I want you to buy it for me. But I don't want my name involved. And I want to make a contract with the present owner that he's to stay on as manager. Make any kind of deal with him you have to, but make it."
"Grant, what in the hell do you want with a motel? And besides, you own a motel in Miami. Had you forgotten?"
"I have my own reasons. Just let me talk, will you? As I was saying, I want him to stay on as permanent manager. I don't care whether the place makes money or loses. And there are some small alterations I want made, right away.
"Rooms 12A and 12B are never to be rented until I tell him to. You can tell him a Mr. Grant-land will call him on the phone and tell him it is okay to rent them. Otherwise they're always reserved. I'll make you a sketch of what I want done. I was in this motel one night with a customer's wife, and I must admit my mind was a bit distracted, but I got the idea while I was there and tried to make a mental note of what I'm going to show you."
Grant sketched off a picture of two motel rooms separated by a wall but connected by a common bath facility. There were two doors to the bath, one leading to Room 12A, one leading to 12B. It was probably built that way so that, Grant figured, a large family or party could take both rooms and use the common bath. Or the rooms could be rented separately, each party using the bath by locking the door leading to the other room. It was not an uncommon situation in small motels of this sort.
"Now, Ed, I want an opening, a small hole about a foot square, cut in this wall separating the two rooms. Then I want a two-way mirror, the kind you can see clearly through from the back, fastened over each side of the hole. So that from either room all you see is a mirror on the wall, fastened with screws that can be taken out with a Phillips screwdriver only. Now, any questions?"
"Why, Grant, I never knew you were a Peeping Tom. If I'd known, I'd have let you watch me and those two redheads in Atlanta. You'd really...."
"Go to hell. What I'm shooting for is a hell of a lot more than just a peep show. The less you know about it the better off you'll be. It may get nasty before it ends, and I wouldn't want you to get your prissy fucking hands dirty. Now get the hell out of here. Go get something to eat and take a shower. Get you somebody to give you a piece of ass. That'll make you sleep better. But get this deal started before tonight! I don't know when I'll need it, but I want it to be ready!"
They cursed each other openly, but underneath they had a deep respect and need for one another.
Ed needed Grant to keep pushing him; to goad him into doing things that he knew was wrong but that got results. Things his own conscience would never allow him to do on his own, but when he was ordered to do it for the sake of Grant Morgan and River Machine, his conscience didn't bother him.
And Grant needed Ed because he could do things. He got things done. Grant seldom allowed himself the luxury of liking any person or trusting anyone. But he had to admit to himself that he probably liked and trusted Ed Grinnel.
And he knew at the moment when Ed left, barely dragging his tired body, that the job would be done exactly as he wanted, and he could go on about the other business of the day without wondering if it would be done.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Frankly, the only thing that would cure what's wrong with me is a big hard dick and about a week in bed."
The girl was sitting at a desk, talking into the phone. She was leaning on one elbow and holding her head with her hand, staring down at the papers on top of the desk.
She seemed to be oblivious to the world around her and didn't notice Grant walking behind her as she made the statement to her girl friend on the other end of the wire. Grant pretended not to hear, but he made a mental note of the girl's name on the small bakelite tag on her desk.
She was one of the girls in the secretarial and clerical pool.
He went on into his office and pushed the intercom button to his private secretary.
"Please send in Miss Lewis. I have a rather extensive project I want some information on, so I'll be tying her up for a while. See that she's given all the time she needs in the next few weeks while I'm using her."
In a few minutes the girl came in, escorted by Grant's private secretary.
"This is Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Morgan. Is there anything else?"
"No, thank you, Joyce. See that we're not disturbed until we get these plans straight in both our minds. Let Tilly Hardesty take my calls for a while, and I'll let you know if we need some files."
The girl sat where Grant motioned and took out a pencil and pad. Grant noticed that she was not obviously overwhelmed and embarrassed by being ushered into the office of the president, and this pleased him. It fitted nicely into what he had in mind. He spoke first:
"Did she say Mrs. Lewis?"
"Yes. Mrs. Randy Lewis. Or Beatrice Lewis. They call me Bea, normally."
"Bea. I'll call you that, if you don't mind. We'll be working quite close together for a while, if this project works out. Okay?"
"Fine with me. May I ask what-the project is about? Or am I jumping the gun?"
"We'll come to that. First, I'd like to know more about you. Personally, I mean. I'm sure you're a good worker or Tilly wouldn't have hired you and kept you on. But I need to know more than that. For instance, you say you're Mrs. Lewis but you don't wear rings. Divorced?"
"Not really. I guess you could say separated. My husband's a clod. He caught syphilis while he was in the Army, and I found out about it. We haven't cohabited-if that's the proper word-, since. I don't know where he is, and I don't care. I use the Mrs. to explain why I have a son at home. It saves a lot of explanations. I make a living for us, but it doesn't leave much time for anything else.
"Any steady boy friends or other commitments that tie you down?"
"No. As I said, I have very little time for a social life."
"But you're not opposed to sex, I take it."
"I'm not a whore, if that's what you mean."
"That's not at all what I mean. I'm simply asking if you're frigid and hate all men and all that. Or, under the proper conditions, you would welcome the attentions of a man."
"If I liked the man and there were no strings attached, yes. I've had my fill of love and romance and having babies. But if you're asking, do I ever get hot pants, yes. Why shouldn't I?"
"I was hoping you'd say that. Another thing: are you timid or inhibited?"
"I don't think so."
"Very well. Prove it. Stand up and pull your skirt up so I can see how your legs look."
She hesitated a moment. Not blushing. But as if she wanted to know more about what he was up to.
"Don't be afraid, Bea. Pm not a sex fiend. I'm not going to attack you. In fact, whether you even get a piece is entirely up to you. But I can tell you this much, if we can carry this out, I'll make it well worth your while. Financially or however you wish. I'll discuss compensation later. But I must know if you have what it takes."
She seemed still a bit wary, but willing to play along now. With a more determined look on her face, she stood up and raised her skirt directly in front of him. When she had it all the way up, he gasped lightly under his breath.
Topping off her firm and perfectly shaped thighs was a bare, fully exposed mound of brownish curly hair with a slight crease showing in the middle.
She wore no panties, just a garter belt holding her hose neatly in place. She held the pose in front of him, making no effort to obstruct his view.
"Well, Mr. Morgan, do I pass the test?"
"Even better than I'd hoped for. Why not go all the way? Prove to me you're willing to stand stark naked in front of a man you barely know. I can assure you we'll not be disturbed."
This time she complied without the hesitation of before. Piece by piece, as if she were undressing in her own bedroom, she took her clothes off until she was down to the skirt. As each new area was uncovered, Grant realized more and more what a delightful female form he had picked and what a shame it was for such a luscious body to go without proper male attention so long at a time.
She pulled the skirt off over her head in typical female fashion. Grant had never understood why they did it this way, but this time he was glad, for it gave him a startling view of her trim body from top to bottom as she stretched her arms upward and pulled the skirt away from her hair.
She stood facing him then, her legs slightly spread, looking him fully in the face. Her fingers were nervous as she fumbled with the snap fastener on her hose belt, but her face betrayed no timidness nor fear.
"You can leave it on. I like it that way," Grant said. "Now walk around the room and let me look at you. I'll be staring right at your pussy and ass and tits and everything as you walk. Let me see if you can do it."
At first it was easy. She walked just naturally. Then as she became more and more aware that he was staring at her, she became uncomfortable.
Her nipples became erect and tense. The urge between her legs became more pronounced, and she had to keep her legs together and take shorter steps. Once she had to stop and press her hand between her legs to soothe some of the twitching there.
"Now come here. Lay back across the desk, lengthwise, facing me."
She complied, hurriedly now.
"I'm burning up with you looking at me that way. I wondered when you were going to do it."
"Not just yet, Bea. Unzip my pants and take it out."
He stood directly in front of the nude body on the desk. She opened his pants all the way, then pushed his pants and shorts down to his feet. She groaned deeply and spread her legs farther when she saw the mighty tool.
"Now put it in your mouth. Show me what you can do."
"Oh, Grant, play with me or lick me or do something. I can't stand this much longer. I'll suck it, but please do something to me!"
As she worked on the big rod with her hands and mouth, he gently played with her, trailing his fingers around the hot, open slit but not masturbating her, not relieving her.
Soon he realized he was about ready to explode himself, and he moved away from her, went around to the end of the desk to her legs and inserted the big knob between the wet lips.
At first she raised up on both elbows as it started in. Then as it got deeper and deeper she raised to a hunched, sitting position and locked him in an embrace of arms and legs.
Her violent pushing and twitching knocked some papers from the desk to the floor, but they didn't stop.
It was only a short, explosive moment, it seemed, until she let her hands go, lay back on the desk, murmuring:
"I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm coming!"
He shot his builtup fluid into her in long, powerful strokes. Then they both stopped for a moment. He started to back away, and she tried to pull him back in with her legs.
"Please, Grant, don't stop now. I need more than just once to catch me up. It's been so long. And you're so good ... "
"That's enough for now, Bea. We've got to talk some more. Go in the little bathroom there and wash your face in cold water. Then we'll talk for a while."
Slowly, grudgingly, she did as she was told.
Grant put his clothing back in order and sat. She came back still naked and sat in a chair facing him. The cold water hadn't thoroughly cooled her passion, it was obvious.
"Now, Bea, are you interested in this project so far?"
"It does have certain nice fringe benefits. Tell me more."
"There's a certain man. You'll recognize the man's name when I tell you. But not just yet. I want to make sure you'll go all the way through with it before I tell you who it is.
"He's a very despicable, unattractive man. I'm asking you to seduce him. Get him to take you to a motel. Make him think you're going to give him a blow job and make him want to eat your pussy. Then I take over. Can you do it?"
"And what's in it for me, Grant? Will you finish the job you started? And keep doing it when I need it?"
"I'll make you a deal. You pull this off the way I want it, and I'll give you five thousand dollars. How does that sound?"
"It sounds like I'm a paid whore. Well, I suppose if I'm going to be one, I might as well make it worth my while. I'll do it if you'll make it ten thousand dollars and a trip to Miami, just me and you for two weeks. I'll get my sister to keep my son, and we'll live it up."
"I can't get away from here and from my wife for two weeks. That's impossible."
"That's my offer."
"Okay. How about this? I'll give you five thousand and a two-week vacation with pay. Then after a week or so, I'll come down with you. If I can't catch you up on your sex life in the remaining time, then we come on back and I'll give you another five thousand. Either you beg me to stop and let you come home or I give you the full ten thousand dollars. Deal?"
"It's a deal. And you know what? I kind of hope you can make me turn down the extra five thousand. I've never had five thousand dollars worth of screwing in one week. It sounds interesting. Now, can I have just one more quickie?"
"Sorry. No more free samples. It'll give you something to think about while you're working on Judge Lessing."
Her facial expression showed surprise at the name.
"You really play big when you play, don't you?"
"Now you know. Does it make any difference?"
"No. I'm assuming, of course, you'll help arrange our meeting so I'll get a chance to get him going. We don't travel in the same social circles, you know."
"I'll take care of all of that. I'll arrange a new name for you and everything, and when the time comes I'll even make the motel reservations."
"Do you want me to go on working here, in the meantime? Or how do we arrange it?"
"We'll have to play it by ear at first. I have a feeling you'll have to do most of the preliminary set up in the daytime. But I want the final episode played at night-a very dark night. In the meantime, report for work as usual, and when I have something cooking I'll take you with me for as long as necessary. Here's five hundred dollars in advance. In case you need some special clothes or something."
"You're the boss. I'll do my best. I'd like to ask one more question, however. What's it going to prove? What I mean is, what's so unusual about a politician having a girl friend? I'm sure they all do. So you hire a detective and catch us in a motel room. With a little pull and a little money, he could get out of it smelling like a rose."
"There's a little more to it than that. You're not just simply going to be caught shacking in a motel room. Once you get him in position, your part is finished, then I take over. And believe me, he won't buy his way out of this one."
She was fully dressed now, except for underpants. And Grant's mind was fully aware that she was missing this one item, even though he couldn't actually see under her skirt.
She picked up her note pad and pencils and started back to the outer office.
"Let me know when I can be of further assistance, Mr. Morgan."
And she was gone.
Grant's mind lingered on the nude body that had been walking around in the office a few minutes before.
Then reality hit him again. He had to get back to work. There were more plans to be made. And preparations.
He pushed the intercom button marked "Tilly Hardesty" and asked her to come to his office.
Tilly came in, sat in the large chair by his desk. Grant was standing by the window, looking at the factory and buildings down below.
As small talk ensued, Tilly noticed his partial erection bulging his pants. She couldn't keep her eyes off it, and she carelessly exposed her thighs in open invitation to him. But Grant's mind was on the girl who had just left, and not on Tilly.
"Tilly, didn't you tell me once that we had a man working here that was tried and convicted on a morals charge? Something about being caught having a nudie party with a bunch of queers?"
"Yes. He still works here. In the factory. His name is Lovejoy-Jack Lovejoy. He seems to be a very good worker, and I don't think any of his fellow workers know about his past. I try hard to keep these things off the record."
"And didn't you also tell me it was one of the few cases to come before Judge Lessing when he was filling in as Magistrate?"
"That's right. Some people said Judge Lessing made too much of a spectacle of the case and allowed the photographers to take pictures of the defendants during the trial, even before there was a conviction. I have my own opinion as to why he did it, but, anyway, the damage was done, and when it was over none of them could've gotten a job anywhere. Judge Lessing put on a big show of bighearted savior and gave Jack a job here. I have my own opinion there too, but I suppose Jack had to take whatever he could get."
"I want you to promote Lovejoy. Give him a raise. I don't care how you do it. Then after he's been promoted a few days, I want to see him here in my office. I want to talk to him about something. "
"Please, Grant. Don't do this to him. Jack's a nice guy. He may be queer-I don't know and I don't care-but he has paid his debt. He's worked hard and loyally for River Machine. Promote him, yes; but I won't take part in whatever you have in mind after that. I know it's something you're doing to get even with Judge Lessing. And that is your problem. I won't let you drag Jack Lovejoy into it."
Grant walked over in front of Tilly and stopped.
While neither of them spoke, he opened his belt and zipper and let his pants and shorts fall to the floor.
Before he completed pushing the clothing down, his big rod was hard and it pointed directly at Tilly's face, only a few inches away.
Still not speaking a word, he let her know what he wanted by putting one hand behind her head and pointing it into her mouth.
She was beside herself with excitement at seeing the hard mass of male flesh, so she didn't hesitate to put it in her mouth and begin to jack him off with her hands. Massaging, feeling, caressing every inch and every hanging ornament.
Too late she realized he was coming in her mouth. She pulled it out and tried to point it down between her legs, but the hot globs of creamy liquid hit her chin and down her neck between her breasts.
Quickly she raised to a standing position and tried to insert him in her hot slit, but it was too late; he was going soft.
"Please, Grant! Put it in me! Do something! I've got to have it! Please put it in me!"
But Grant was satisfied completely. He stepped back and started pulling his pants and shorts up.
Tilly laid her head over on his desk and sobbed violently.
"Why did you do this to me, Grant? You know what memories it brings back. Why did you do it? You can keep it hard as long as you want to. I know you can. Why?"
Grant continued straightening his clothes as he stood over her.
"I don't feel like another piece right now. I just finished screwing Bea Lewis. And I want this to be a lesson to you. The next time I tell you to do something, don't question my motives or my methods. Now get your ass out there and do exactly what I said. Promote that queer bastard and then send him in to see me in a few days. And don't tell him anything about what to expect. I'll do the telling from now on."
The discussion was over.
Tilly did what she was told.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jack Lovejoy received the news of his promotion from the assembly line to Production Expediter gladly and without any hint of suspicion.
He had, after all, been with River Machine a long time and had a good record of attendance, and it seemed to him that he was a very logical choice for the job of studying ways to speed up production in his section.
He had often had ideas of his own on this very subject but had hesitated to make them known.
The incident with Judge Lessing when he was very young had destroyed his self-confidence, and nothing had ever happened to him to regain it. Therefore, he led a very colorless, insignificant life. Mostly by his own choosing.
He preferred to live in the shadows and out of the spotlight. Dreaming his own dreams. Unhampered by grim reality as much as possible. He never socialized with his fellow workers, although he was not disliked by them. But when he left the plant he liked to go into the world of his own creation, completely apart from the world of necessity. He didn't consider himself an active homosexual. Passive, possibly. But not even that, really.
But he personally thought his sexual needs were abnormal. He would never discuss this with another person. Perhaps an almost total stranger, one he would never see again, but certainly not with any friend. Because he felt that his sexual urges were so strong and persistent that perhaps he bordered on what might be considered insanity. And he would never want this known.
Jack masturbated a lot. Alone at night when the fantastic urges came upon him he let his mind wander through wild, orgiastic dreams while he sought physical release by the only method available to him.
He also enjoyed a female body whenever possible. But this was much more seldom than he would've chosen. He was neither attractive nor unattractive enough to interest women that way. And he didn't earn enough money to be able to wine and dine them and thus seduce them.
So he usually chose a paid whore, either at his room or hers. And he seldom "dated" the same woman twice. For one thing, he didn't want to start a friendship with anyone. Also, the women always complained of his insatiable sexual drive. When they were exhausted, he was still excited and wanting more. Not one woman in all his life had ever been able to completely satisfy him and make him want to lie back and sleep.
Sometimes, if the situation presented itself, he took his sex with men. He never deliberately tried to seduce young men, and he never "married" another man. That is, live with the same man as a couple, as is often common practice among confirmed homosexuals.
With Jack, it was a matter of urgency and need. He usually preferred having the affair with a stranger he met in a bar or some such place and would probably never see again. He always made it clear that both must be active participants. He wasn't interested in someone wanting a quickie blow job for his own amusement.
He had no fights with his conscience after an episode of fellatio with a man. To Jack it was just another means of quenching his insatiable sexual urges.
When he was ushered into Grant Morgan's office and introduced by the secretary, he hoped it meant his years of service to River Machine had been noticed and he was going to be praised by the Big Man himself. He was determined to shed some of his shyness and show Mr. Morgan he was very capable and interested in the new job.
"Well, Jack, how are you doing on your new job?"
"It's an excellent opportunity, sir, to prove some ideas I've had for a long time about speeding up certain processes. I appreciate it very much."
Grant allowed the small talk to continue, pretending to listen to Jack's ideas and suggestions while he was actually sizing him up and watching his actions and mannerisms.
To do the job Grant had in mind, the man had to be short and slightly built and fair complex-ioned. Jack Lovejoy suited these qualifications nicely.
It would also help if the man had a few lady-like mannerisms and an effiminate way of walking. Jack also came close enough in these categories.
Finally, it would help if the man had the proper mental attitude to do the job without too much force. Grant was ready to find out if Jack passed this test as well.
"Jack, how would you like to transfer to South America? For as long as you like and at a nice salary. I recently bought a plant in Rio, and I need someone with ideas like yours to go down there and build a fire under some of those lazy bastards and get some lines moving. Your job would be just to move to different jobs in the place and figure out ways to speed things up. How does that sound?"
"It sounds marvelous. But I don't speak Portugese. Wouldn't I need to?"
"You'll learn it. But they all speak enough English that you wouldn't have any trouble while you're learning."
"Mr. Morgan, how can I ever thank you for such an opportunity?"
"I was about to get to that. There is something you must do for me first."
"Oh?" Jack looked a bit startled. But he thought he knew what Grant wanted and the prospect of blowing this big man wasn't entirely objectionable to him.
"I understand you were convicted a long time ago of committing a homosexual act with a group of men. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"Are you still queer?"
"No, sir."
"Let me put it this way: Do you ever indulge in sex acts with men or boys, or whatever you want to call it?"
Jack didn't answer. He continued to stare at the floor. He was afraid that if he admitted the truth it would eliminate his chances of going to Brazil. And yet, if Grant wanted a blow job himself, he would be glad to do it in return for what he was getting. Finally he spoke:
"May I ask why you're asking me these things, Mr. Morgan?"
"Because the job I want you to do for me involves exactly that. You were picked because I knew you had done it before, and I assumed you would do it again. Also because of your size and actions. Now, will you or won't you?"
"Is it for you or someone else?"
"Hell, no, it's not for me. You queer bastards don't appeal to me in the least. I want you to help me get a miserable, rotten old son of a bitch in a compromising position and let me take some pictures of you and him sucking each other. Your face and everything about you, and him, everything will show in the picture. That's why I'm offering to send you to South America."
"Is the other man gay also?"
"I don't think he knows what he is. But, no, I don't think he ever sucked a dick before. We're going to use a girl to get him shook and then pull a switch on him in the darkness. You'll have to keep him excited long enough for us to get the pictures. We'll be shooting with infrared bulbs and film so he won't be able to see it at all. I want at least one picture with you on top and your dick touching his mouth. After that I don't give a damn what happens."
"I'm sorry. I can't do it. I've thought about it and about the chances of going to South America. But I couldn't do this to an innocent man. I know how I've suffered all these years for what they did to me. I'm sorry."
Jack got up and turned slowly toward the door, waiting to see if he was fired.
"Very well. If your mind's made up. But you'll regret it. I won't fire you. I'll put you back on that line where you came from, and I'll see to it that every man and woman in this company knows you're queer. Let's see how you like living with that."
"But, Mr. Morgan. Please. Think what I'd be doing to this innocent man. How could I ever live with myself? I'm not very proud of myself, as you probably know. But this would be worse than anything I've ever done."
"Innocent man, eh. Is that all that's bothering you? What if I told you the man is your old friend Judge Lessing?"
Grant didn't want to give out this information, but it was a last-ditch move.
Lovejoy was visibly shaken by the mention of the name. He turned around, his face red now. His body had become rigid. His small, delicate fists were clinched.
"Are you telling me the truth? Will you swear to me that he's the one?"
"You have my word on it. Does that change your mind?"
"I'll do anything you say to get even with that miserable creep. The mere thought of having a sex act with him turns my stomach. But I'll do it with pleasure. You'll get some pictures like you can't even imagine. I'm just sorry I can't be around when you show them around. I'll even sign a statement that he forced me into it and that we've been having these affairs for years, if you want me to."
"That won't be necessary. But I do want you to be recognizable in the pictures. So there can be no questions that it's a real person who has had dealings with him before. Then we'll let everyone draw his own conclusions. I'll say I shipped you to South America to break up the affair, if anyone asks."
"Mr. Morgan, may I ask why you're doing this? I never realized you had a reason to hate him too."
"No, you may not ask. I have my reasons. Let it go at that."
"Very well. If you say so. When do I do it? The pictures, I mean."
"I'll let you know. Go on working on your new job. In the meantime, I'll be getting your papers in order to move to Brazil as soon as I'm ready. You may be asked to sign some papers or take some shots. For the next few weeks don't make any plans for your nights. Be available constantly. I'll let you know where to go and when."
"You won't be disappointed, Mr. Morgan."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The days seemed to drag eternally for Grant Morgan. He was anxious to get on with his little "party" for Judge Lessing.
Each day when he looked at the papers, he saw new signs of Lessing's publicity agents at work, swinging the public pressure in behind him. And with each article Grant could see that they were doing a good job of selling their piece of merchandise. At the rate things were going he would be swept into the Governor's office and acclaimed a great savior of mankind.
Nothing would stop him after the rush had snowballed too far.
Grant was waiting to hear from Bea to let him know when the time was right.
His heart pounded with a newfound thump of eagerness when his secretary announced that Bea Lewis wished to see him.
He invited her in and wasted no time with preliminary small talk. He wanted to know what had developed.
The way she sat, with her legs exposed, she made it obvious she wanted to play. But he was in no mood, and besides, he felt a bit dizzy and nauseous for a moment.
"How far have you progressed with him? Is he ready yet?" Grant asked.
"Well, I'll start at the beginning. As you know, you arranged to have me standing with the armload of packages where he would come around the corner and bump me. I took a nice tumble and bumped my knee and hip and twisted my ankle.
"As you know, we were both alone. So he insisted on driving me home. On the way I managed to show him enough naked body to shake him good. I started with my ankle and knee to see what he would do. Before I got out of the car, I was showing him my bruised hip, which, by the way, I had bruised with dark mascara.
"I even agreed to let him pull my bikini panties down in back so he could see the bruise. Then he wanted to kiss it and make it well. I finally agreed, and I knew he'd try to feel in front a little while he was doing it. I let him get just a little feel before I pulled his hand away. But you should've seen him when his lips touched my bare skin. I thought he was going to come unglued at the joints.
"I got away from him by telling him I lived with my mother and that I had to get into the house. But I made it obvious to him that he'd given me a bad case of hot pants. A few days later I ran into him again. By accident, of course. And he wanted to know all about how my bruises were coming along, and he just insisted that he take me home again to make up for the nasty spill he had given me the first time we met. I, of course, reluctantly agreed.
"This time we took a longer way home and eventually ended up playing with each other. Just before I got out of the car, I bent over and kissed the head of his thing and asked him to kiss my navel the way he had kissed my bruised hip. I gave him a real line about how it shook me for hours. I pretended I had to jump out of the car and run into the house, to control myself.
"Of course, I've been giving him a phony name all the time, and I pretended not to know who he was. He doesn't talk about his political ambitions to me; I suppose he doesn't want to give me any ideas about spilling the beans on him.
"I did take one precaution, however. I gave him the number of the new outside-line phone you had installed on my desk. And when I talk to him, I make up a good line about where I work and all that."
"Has he called you much?"
"At first, I thought he'd lost the number, and I was about to 'accidentally' meet him again. Then yesterday he called me. I don't know whether he had lost his nerve or what. But whatever it was, he's on me with hot breath now, wanting me to meet him again. I tell him I want to, but I'm afraid I'll get caught doing something 'because I'm sure I can't control myself when I'm around you' I told him."
"So you think he's ready now, Bea?"
"It's now or never. He's supposed to call me back this afternoon. I want to get instructions from you before I talk to him."
"Fine. I'm ready for him. Here's the address and room number you're to take him to." He gave her the paper with the name and address and room number. "Tell him you have this girl friend that was using this room and you know for sure it is safe. She left with her boy friend, and the room is still paid up, and you made a deal with her to use it for a short while tonight. It'll make him think you're really going to a lot of trouble to get in his pants and also that you're very much afraid of being caught. That, of course, is the last thing he would want too, so if you go to so much trouble to set it up safely, he'll not be afraid to go along.
"Here's something else you'll need. A key to Room 12A. I suggest you and Jack Lovejoy go over there after you talk to Lessing and work out your plan, so there will be no slipups. Tonight Jack will be in Room 12B. I have a photographer on standby waiting for my call. He'll be shooting from 12B through the mirror, with infrared equipment.
"You and Jack and the photographer can have a ball if you want to, after you get rid of Lessing. I don't give a damn what you do. But I want you to call me as soon as it's over and let me know if it went off okay. I'll be at the country club in company with a lot of friends, so my whereabouts can be well accounted for.
"Any questions now? You'll be on your own as soon as you finish talking to Lessing. And by the way, call the phone company and have that phone taken out tomorrow morning."
"No questions at the moment. I think I can handle everything. There's one thing I wish you would handle, however."
She remained seated and raised her dress up to her navel, showing him she had nothing on under it. Then she held out both arms in invitation to him. But Grant Morgan wasn't interested at the moment. He had another passion burning him now.
"There'll be plenty of time later, Bea. Just a little later. When I get that son of a bitch nailed to the cross the way I want him, our deal still stands. I give you all the screwing you can take or I give you an extra five thousand dollars. I haven't forgotten."
"Neither have I, Grant. And it's tearing at me day and night. I need it now even more than I did that first time in here."
"Get back to your desk now and wait for his call. Pve got to call the motel and the photographer and Jack Lovejoy. I'll be waiting to hear from you tonight."
In Room 12B, Jack Lovejoy and a photographer named Bill Martz waited for Judge Lessing and Bea Lewis.
Martz had taken the mirror off the opening, and they could see almost clearly the interior of Room 12A with just a small light on. But even a dim light would be too much for what they had in mind.
Martz decided to try his equipment before the others arrived.
"Jack, I want you to go in there through the bathroom, turn off all lights, check the drapes to make sure they're completely closed, then go over and sit down on that couch at the far wall. Then get up and come back in here."
Lovejoy did exactly as he was told.
Martz followed his every move in the total darkness through his infrared scope, simply a modification of the sniper scope used by riflemen during the war for night fighting. Then when Jack sat on the couch, he triggered an infrared flashbulb and a camera linked to the scope took his picture on special film sensitive only to the infrared light.
Jack sat on the couch just a moment, then got up and came back through the bathroom into Room 12B.
"Did you see any flash at the mirror while you were sitting on the couch?"
"No. Should I have?"
"I was sure you wouldn't. But I wanted to test it."
In another moment they heard the lock being opened in 12A, and they both watched through the opening as light from the hall spilled into the dark room and the two figures entered.
The door closed and the room was totally dark again. Then a small light came on, and they could clearly see the couple. They stood in the middle of the floor and kissed passionately.
Lessing let his hand slide down to Bea's hip where it remained for a while, patting and massaging. Then he started inching her skirt up so he could feel her naked hips.
She squirmed as if in eager anticipation and started undressing him. As she took his clothes off, she pitched the pieces around the room at various places.
When she was down to his shorts, he stopped her and tried to persuade her toward the bed. But the bed was out of the view from the two-way mirror, so she took him to the couch, directly across from the mirror.
She stood him in front of the couch. Then she started moving her hands lightly down his body from the shoulders, over his flabby breasts and sagging stomach and hooked her thumbs under the top elastic of his shorts and started pushing them down.
She was stooping in front of him as she pushed downward slowly, and when his cock flipped out at the top of his shorts, she closed her mouth around it and held it that way while slipping the shorts off over his feet.
He was trembling now, and his face was becoming red.
Then she set him on the couch and indicated it was his turn to undress her.
He was so nervous he couldn't control his hands, and she had to open buttons and snaps and zippers for him. But she let him pull each piece of clothing off, knowing how much it thrilled him and pushed his passions to a higher and higher pitch.
He remained sitting until she stood completely naked in front of him. Her navel was directly in front of his face, and he seemed hypnotized by the sight of so much nude feminine flesh.
She put her hand lightly behind his head, pulling him forward until he nuzzled his face in her softness. Then she felt his tongue trailing a wet, tickling path down over her stomach and through the hairs of her cunt.
She decided it was time to lay him back on the couch and get him in the position they wanted.
He was putty in her tender hands as she posed him on his back on the length of the couch.
While massaging his penis, keeping it as nearly erect as he could get it but not letting him ejaculate, she whispered in his ear:
"Lay here just like this till I run to the bathroom a second. I've got to do something to keep you from getting me pregnant with that big thing. I'll suck it really good when I get back. Don't move, darling ... "
When she got in the bathroom, she turned the lights on fully, partly so he could see her and partly to dim his vision when the light was off.
She saw Jack Lovejoy standing in the little room, stripped completely and ready to take her place. He was out of Lessing's sight behind the wall.
She stood directly in the door and went through a series of body movements for Lessing's benefit and pretended to take a birth control pill. She splashed water from the sink on her open vagina and pretended to wash it in full view of his bulging eyes.
Then she smiled at him and turned the lights out. She had turned the small table lamp off on the way to the bathroom, and now the room was in total darkness, except the small amount of light coming from outside through the draped windows.
From his position on the couch, Lessing saw exactly what he wanted to see.
A slight, pale figure emerged from the bathroom, came across the room to him, and crouched on the floor beside him.
He felt a warm mouth envelop his excited rod and two delicate, experienced hands fondled his most sensitive parts.
Bea crept silently to where the photographer was standing by the mirrored opening. As her still-nude body brushed him, the awareness of the situation seemed to amplify itself in her mind, the fact that she was standing completely naked beside a total stranger who had just witnessed her in the act of stripping and seducing another man.
The photographer gave her the extra scope and silently pointed it in the right direction.
As she looked into it, she could see only short flickers of red light. But when she had focused her eyes properly, with each flicker of light, she could plainly see what was taking place in the next room. And she realized that she saw only the images when the special infrared light flashed to take a picture.
Jack was still down on his knees beside the couch, working with his hands and his mouth and tongue on the flabby, writhing body of Judge Lessing.
Lessing was obviously enjoying himself tremendously. It was probably the first blow job he'd ever had after dreaming about it for a lifetime.
In one picture, a snarling grin would be distorting his face. And the next he might be looking directly toward the camera with a blank, ecstatic stare on his face. His hands first flung back over his head, and then gripping the sides of his body or the couch he was lying on.
Once, he could stand it no longer, and he reached down to fondle the person giving him such pleasure. He wanted to come, and he thought this contact would hurry the release.
But when his hands found the hips the legs were closed tightly together, and all he could feel were cheeks and thighs. And as he fondled and tickled what was available to him, he noticed the hips were hunching rhythmically in time with the hand motion on his rod. This pleased him tremendously to know that his body was thrilling the other body so much. But after a few minutes of trying to get his hand between the legs, he gave up and put his hands back over his head as if reaching for the release button so he could come.
Jack Lovejoy knew his job well. He knew just how to bring the old man to a climax and yet work him into an almost insane frenzy before he allowed him to release. And now he felt the quivering, shaking in the Judge's legs and stomach, and he knew the moment was near.
While Lessing was pressing both hands on top of his own head and gritting his teeth, Jack changed his position and got on the couch above the Judge's head. In the darkness, his erect prick was pointing down directly above Lessing's face.
All in the same instant, Lessing realized that he was coming and being sucked dry and also that a body was above his face. He reached up with his hands and pulled it down to meet his tongue. But to his shock and surprise it was not an open, wet pussy that met his mouth. He realized too late that a hot, slippery knob had been put in his mouth and was hunching in and out, the hairy balls touching his nose each time it went in.
Some deep instinct in him told him to jump. To lunge. To get away from this thing sticking in his mouth. But an even stronger instinct paralyzed his body, because he was coming and couldn't stop. The mouth working on him wouldn't let him stop. It was an expert mouth that had done this many times before, and it went with hands that knew how to shock and squeeze and terrify a man into near unconsciousness.
And then it was over.
Jack released his hold on the Judge and stood up.
Lessing tried to jump up from the couch, but he found the ordeal had been too much for him. He was dizzy and felt only a numb separation from his own body. He tried rolling off the couch onto the floor but collapsed backward again.
Jack immediately turned the table lamp on. He couldn't resist one last twist of the knife, now that he had it solidly in Judge Lessing's flabby body.
"We meet again, Judge Lessing. The last time you were on the high bench looking down at me. I was at your mercy. You showed me your brand of mercy then. I'll show you mine now."
Jack still had a hard on, and he did the first thing his impulses told him. He stood over the sickening form of Judge Lessing and jacked off a few inches above the cringing face.
The drops of Jack's hot cum on his face seemed to bring the mind and body of Lessing back to life, and he mustered his last ounce of strength to roll off the couch onto his hands and knees.
He crawled around the floor searching for his pieces of clothing, muttering over and over:
"My God! My God! My God! Help me, God ... "
Jack turned around and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The second day after the episode in the motel, Judge Franklin Leroy Lessing received a brown envelope by special messenger.
He took it directly to his private study before he opened it. He was afraid he knew what it contained, and his worst fears were soon confirmed.
It had a typewritten note clipped to the pictures:
Judge Lessing:
The attached photos recently came to my attention. My first reaction was to turn them over-along with the negatives-to the newspapers. However, in view of your promising political career, I decided to give you an opportunity to explain the situation first. Then we'll decide what action to take. This afternoon in my office I shall give you this opportunity.
Grant Morgan Lessing's first impulse was to call the police and report it as an attempt at blackmail and extortion.
But the idea had certain obvious drawbacks. The most certain one being that if the matter got into the hands of the police it would then get into the newspapers and other news media. This he certainly didn't want.
He was almost certain now that Grant Morgan had rigged the whole affair from the beginning. He had tried to call Bea on the private number she had given him and found it disconnected, with no record of to whom or what company it had been assigned.
Actually he had done little or no investigation of the incident. For one thing, he thought it might have been just a prank on the part of Jack Lovejoy, and if he let it drop it might go no farther. It had never occurred to him that it was possible to take pictures in the total darkness. But here were the pictures, and it was impossible to deny it.
As he paced the floor and looked repeatedly at the clock, he tried to devise some way out. He realized it would not only mean the end of his political ambitions, but it would also finish him off in the investment "counseling" business as well. To say nothing of what it would do to his wife. And what she would do to him.
And thinking of his wife, he must destroy the pictures before she or someone else found them, by accident.
He opened the screen on the fireplace and struck a match to one of the pictures. Then as it was burning, he fed the others in, one by one, making sure each was completely destroyed. The last piece was the note from Morgan. He thought about it a moment, and then put that in the fire too.
As the note was burning, a thought came to him. If Morgan had truly set out to destroy him, he would've sent the pictures to various newspapermen and reporters first and let the splash do the job. He wouldn't have warned him first.
So he must be wanting something. Grant Morgan's greedy. I always knew he was. That's why I had him cut out of the will. The will! That's it! That's what he wants. It's still blackmail, anyway you look at it. But it would be worth it. I'm a dead man if he won't agree. So I'll go to him and try to bargain with him.
At exactly three o'clock Judge Lessing was sitting in Grant Morgan's office.
Grant gave his secretary orders that he wasn't to be disturbed until further notice.
"And so, Judge," Grant stressed the word, "we meet again. I've looked forward to this particular meeting for some time. Won't you have a drink?"
"I'm not here for sociable drinking, Morgan. Get on with it. What is it you want?"
"I've got what I want. I've got your ass in a sling, and I'm calling the shots. Nothing can undo what you did to me. That's done, and it's too late now. But it's not too late for me to watch you squirm and beg."
"Maybe it's not too late, Grant. What if I said you can still have Dr. Tollman's estate? It's worth a great deal more now than it was then, even. And the house. The whole estate."
"No deal."
"Grant, listen to me. I'm an old man. I have a wife and two married daughters. Think what this'll do to me. I'll be ruined. A whole career lost and wasted. A chance to be governor. What will you gain by denying me what's rightfully mine?"
"You're breaking my heart."
"Grant, please!" Lessing was sweating now, leaning forward in his chair, his face was getting redder. "Grant, for the love of God! I was just looking out for what I felt was rightfully mine. I had handled Dr. Tollman's money for years. And I knew when he died I'd lose it all. Everything I had built up. I wrote the will just as an idea to talk to him about. I thought he would read it and turn it down and maybe still go along with part of it. I never even expected him to okay the whole thing. But you know how he was. He just signed things without even reading them, sometimes. The stupid ass. So when I showed it to him that day, he just signed it. Like that. He thought it said the whole estate went to the medical school if you and Louise both died without heirs."
Lessing stopped and wiped the perspiration off his head, and continued:
"I was going to straighten it out with him later, but there wasn't time. He was killed before I got around to it. There was no turning back then. I had the whole estate in my grasp, and I couldn't turn it down."
He sat quietly, looking down at the floor. Neither of them spoke.
Grant wasn't even looking at him. He was looking out the window, lost in his thoughts.
Lessing finally broke the silence:
"As it turned out, you haven't done badly for yourself. You're a multimillionaire, I'm sure. And you did it all by yourself. You don't owe anything to Louise or her family or anyone."
Lessing was afraid to stop talking. He wished Grant would say something.
"How about this, Grant? I'll make a statement that I found another will signed by Dr. Tollman later than the one I showed you. It leaves everything to you personally. Or however you want it to read. You work it out with your tax lawyer. However you want it. All of it. All I ask is the negatives and all the prints.
"Think of it, Grant. The whole Tollman estate for just a few dirty pictures. Grant, please. Say something. I'm admitting the whole affair. I'm begging you to spare me this humiliation. I'll do anything you say. If I'm elected governor, I'll give you an appointment. Whatever you want. You name it. But please give me the pictures and let this drop...."
Grant picked up a piece of plain paper and a pen and pushed it across the desk to Lessing. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder bulging with contents and sealed.
"Start writing a statement to me that indicates you have made a mistake and the entire Tollman estate is mine. If what you write satisfies me, I'll give you this envelope containing the pictures and negatives. Choose your words carefully, Lessing. You know the wording to take family fortunes away from people. Let's see if you know how to give them back."
Lessing was so nervous he dropped the pen on the floor twice before he could get the document started.
But once he got going, the words seemed to flow through his mind to his fingers, and he soon had the better part of the page filled with legal terminology.
He handed it back to Grant.
Grant read the paper without picking it up from the desk.
When he'd had time to read about halfway down, Lessing leaned over and pointed to a certain phrase with the pen.
"You notice that, Grant? I put that in on purpose. That brings up a little-known Kentucky law that'll allow you to get the whole thing practically tax free. Not many people know about that technicality. But I've used it before. And I'll personally run this through for you, if you want me to. I know how it's probated under that law, and I'll do it for you."
He talked on and on, nervously, wanting to reach for the envelope but afraid to. He wished with all his heart that Grant would pick it up and hand it to him.
Finally he did. He didn't say anything. He just picked it up and handed it to Lessing.
Lessing's finger quickly ran down the glued seam and opened the envelope. He flicked through the pictures quickly, assuring himself that he had bought what he wanted, and yet embarrassed at seeing himself in the photos.
"You won't be sorry, Mr. Morgan. I guarantee you that-my personal guarantee. And I'll take care of starting the new will probation the instant I leave here. I'll rush it through as fast as possible. My personal guarantee."
He was backing toward the door, still perspiring, still shaking.
Grant still didn't speak when Lessing went through the door and shut it behind him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Get Ed Grinnel on the phone and tell him to go to my house. I'm going on home shortly, and I'll meet him there. I have something important to discuss with him."
It was Grant talking to his secretary.
It had been a few days since the meeting with Judge Lessing, but Grant had already received notice that the new will had been rushed through, and he was now the sole possessor of the estate of the late Dr. Tollman.
He had intended to have Ed meet him at the office this afternoon to tell him and make plans for the newly acquired wealth. But a sharp pain had started in his chest just before lunch, and by the time he gave the order to his secretary he had become nauseous from the pain and had decided to go home for the rest of the day.
He tried to relax on the way home in the back seat of his car while his driver sped along. But it was no use. The pain kept coming and going. He was obviously ill, but he wouldn't let the driver know what was wrong.
When he got home he decided to go to his den and relax on the couch for a while before talking to Ed. But Ed was already there, waiting for him. Over the years Ed Grinnel had learned never to keep the boss waiting. Rather he should be early and do the waiting himself.
"Ed, why don't you go for a swim or something for a few minutes? I'd like to lie down and rest before we start on this project. It's going to be one of the biggest we've ever tackled. Pll tell you all about it after I rest a little."
"When're you going to a doctor and get some medicine for that ticker of yours, Grant? You and I both know damn well that's what it is."
"If I wanted medical advice I'd ask for it. Now get the hell out and let me rest. It's just a bad cold. I'll be fine in a few minutes. Have you seen Louise?"
"Yes. She was out back a few minutes ago. I'll send her in."
"No, don't bother. I just didn't see her when I came in, and I wondered where the hell she was. I never see her anymore."
"I think she was going to call your office about something. She'd probably want to know you're home."
And then she walked into the room.
"Is this a goddamn convention? I came home to get some rest."
Ed took the hint and left. But Louise stayed. She obviously had something on her mind.
"Grant, have you been listening to the news on the radio?"
"No, I don't give a damn if World War III has just started. I'm going back to the office so I can have some peace and quiet."
The pain was getting sharper and more frequent now.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Granny. It's just that I thought you'd want to know, since your name was involved."
"My name? What? ... "
"Judge Franklin Lessing, you remember him, don't you? Used to work for Father or something. Well, he committed suicide a few minutes ago. And they mentioned that the last thing he worked on was settling an estate of some kind or something for you. They said they'd been unable to contact you for a comment. Do you know what they were talking about?"
"Yes, I know what they were talking about. You silly ass, it was your father's estate that I got. Not that you'd take enough interest in my work to care one way or the other. Did they give any idea or hint as to why he did it?"
"They said a reporter or detective or someone was around earlier today asking him some questions about some pictures or something in an envelope. His wife didn't know what the interview was all about. But, anyway, she found him dead sometime later. He didn't leave a note, but it was obvious he did it himself, because the bottle of poison or pills or something was still near his hand when they found him. Do you have any idea what it was all about?"
"Yes, I know exactly what it was about. Do you think your aristocratic little mind could handle some reality for a change?"
"I don't appreciate your attitude, Grant. But I would like to know what you're talking about."
"Very well, I'll tell you what I'm talking about." The pain in Grant's chest seemed to ease a bit when he sat and leaned his head back. "I'll tell you a thing or two about reality, my little aristocrat. I had some pictures taken of the late and lamented Judge Lessing sucking a dick and being sucked by a man who was the victim of Lessing's justice once, years ago. I threatened to expose him and send the pictures to the papers and to the opposition party. He agreed to give me the entire Tollman estate if I wouldn't expose him.
"He admitted, by the way, that he screwed us out of the estate by defrauding Dr. Tollman and tricking him into signing a new will without reading it. At any rate, I saved a couple of sets of prints when I gave him the negatives. And when I was sure the estate deal was in the bag, I sent one copy to a reporter and one to a private detective that makes a living digging out the shit in people's closets and selling it to the highest bidder. I knew he'd know what to do with that package of jewels."
"Grant, what a despicable thing to do! Didn't it occur to you that he might commit suicide?"
"I counted on it. I just wanted his ass to fry a little first. Looks like I won all the way around."
"Another thing: my father's estate was mine. How can you say he gave it to you?"
"What the hell do you care, Miss Aristocrat? You haven't cared a damn for what I've had to do all these years to keep the money flowing. You talked poor and spent rich. Well, by God, I made you a wealthy woman, in spite of yourself!"
"You made me wealthy? I was quite well off before I ever heard of you, remember? And you'll never be wealthy. You're just poor white trash with a lot of money. There's a difference you wouldn't understand!"
"Louise!"
"I'll say one more thing, and then I'm going out to the pool and I'll leave you alone. I never wanted to be rich. I married you because I loved you and wanted plenty of sex the way only you could dish it out. I didn't care if you went to work carrying a lunch box and wearing overalls. I just wanted to be with you. And I wanted babies. For some reason I couldn't produce any. So I felt I had failed. I gave you freedom to come and go as you pleased and do the things you wanted to do. Even when I suspected you were screwing other women.
Sometimes I wondered which was the bigger passion with you, getting rich or getting illicit pussy. But I want to add one thing. In all these years I have never had an affair with another man. I'm still a virgin except for you."
"Any woman who has nothing better to brag about than the fact she's never been fucked by an outside lover is pitifully lacking."
"Very well, Mister Morgan! You are quite rich now, as you pointed out. Suppose you try fucking your piles of money for a change. Good-bye!"
"Louise!"
As Louise closed the door behind her, Grant attempted to leap from the couch and follow her. It was a mistake.
The hardest pain of all suddenly tore at his chest.
He felt as if he'd suddenly been hit with a large hammer, and his left side was alternately numb and scalding with inward aching.
The realization came to him then.
This was the real thing. He would die in a few minutes of a heart attack, if he couldn't get help.
But he couldn't move. What could he do? He must remain as calm as possible. Another sudden move might do it completely. He must remain calm and think.
"The intercom. That's it. Louise said she was going to the pool. She'll go to the dressing room by the pool. If I can just ease my right hand over to the intercom and push the button for the dressing room and then the talk button and maybe I can make her hear me."
The room was spinning. The effort of merely moving his arm seemed tremendous, as if he were pulling against springs.
Just as he got the hand on the intercom control, he was exhausted and he slammed down hard to push the two necessary buttons. Then he lay back to regain his strength.
When he managed to focus his eyes again on the control, he realized he had selected the dressing room sure enough. But he had pushed the "listen" button instead of "talk," and he knew he couldn't move again.
Breathing was becoming much harder. He felt he had to close his eyes a minute and rest. Rest.
When he heard the voice from the speaker it gave him a little start.
It was Louise's voice. But it was just coming from the intercom:
"Ed, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in here. I'll wait outside until you get dressed, and we'll both go for a swim."
"I have a better idea. We can both get dressed at the same time."
"Ed, what're you doing?"
"Surely, you've seen naked men before."
"Yes ... but ... Ed ... you'll break the zipper and ruin my skirt ... Ed ... What if Grant came in and caught us undressing like this?"
"Don't worry about Grant. Just hold on to this while I unsnap your bra ... "
"Oh, Ed, it's so big and hard. I had no idea you had so ... Oh ... that feels so good. It makes my nipples stand way out, even the one you're not sucking on. You don't think they're too big? ... Sometimes I ... No, Ed, please leave my panties on ... please ... if you take them off, I know I'll give in to you, and I don't want to. I mean I want it, but I can't ... Please ... I'll suck you off or anything ... but please don't make me go all the ... Ed...."
"Afraid you'll get pregnant?"
"No, I can't get pregnant, I'd like to feel that big thing shoot off in me ... But, Ed,.. Grant ... Oh ... yes ... there. Deeper! More, Ed ... "
Grant's eyes were closed now. He couldn't open them even if he had wanted to. His mind was still clear and he could hear the speaker. He was suspended in darkness with occasional flashes of light each time another pain tore through his chest.
Somewhere, high on a Kentucky hillside overlooking a fertile valley, a giant of a horse reared high and pawed at the open space with his front hooves. He threw his head up and opened his mouth to whinney the shriek of a thousand wailing women. Grant smiled to himself as the glint of the sun shone a deep purple hue to his jet blackness...." Ed ... don't stop ... I'm coming ... God ... Fuck me, Ed ... I'm coming ... "