Morton M. Hunt, in his book. Her Infinite Variety, decries the fact that so many authors depict their adultress heroines as young, in the bloom of their femininity ... which is not, statistically, the usual case. At age thirty, when the male drive is beginning to diminish, the female sex responsiveness first comes to full bloom. There is a distinct loss of maidenly inhibition, and the woman may need more gratification than can be found in her husband's arms. Nova Dickson was such a woman ... unable to secure satisfaction through the attentions of her incomplete husband, she sought gratification lustfully, brazenly, elsewhere. Her own, private trail of degradation led her through more filth than she had ever imagined existed ... filth from which she was powerless to extricate herself ... yes, led her through physical torture and extreme anguish, indeed, almost into the jaws of violent death ... Nova had sold herself to the Devil, to the underworld, unwillingly, unwittingly ... was there any hope of return from her snowballing, runaway, trap of lust?
CHAPTER ONE
The man's name was Brady Kendall. He was perhaps 34 or 35, a handsome, aggressive specimen, his hair sandy, his complexion somewhat choleric. A traveling salesman, he wasn't the kind of man Nova would have chosen for a permanent lover (he was too noisy, he rattled on about nothing at all), but for tonight, for her so urgent need, he'd do very nicely She'd picked him up (rather, let him think he'd picked her up) at Casey's Old Ranchero, a glittering desert-oasis-spa on Tucson's southernmost perimeter, worlds apart from the Salto Valley residential area where she lived. Nursing a vodka highball, she'd noted the man's entrance almost immediately, she'd been glad she'd waited and rebuffed the two previous pickup attempts by lesser men.
For, when one seeks a bull-Why settle for anything less? And Brady Kendall was just that. Tall, ruggedly built, a basic, handy man, he was just the brute to take care of her, to help extinguish certain inner fires. Fires that had smoldered through these past days, had, only this afternoon, broken into full flame, had consumed her, left her weak and helpless. And thus, tonight-
A mere instrument. A purgative outlet. A tool-Nova had wrapped Kendall around her finger within minutes; she never for a second gave him the slightest doubt that he'd score before this night was out. It had been Nova, in fact-as eleven o'clock had come and gone, and her precious allotment of time had run short-who had finally pried Brady from the bar stool, had hinted that he take her to his motel room.
Which was where they were at this moment, Nova sitting in restless, fevered anticipation in a chair near the blonde-toned secretary-desk, Brady busily building them another drink (vodka again-Nova had insisted), humming cocksurely under his breath, his smile very arrogant, very ugly indeed.
Normally such a man would have turned Nova's stomach. But when she appraised him, saw him as so much beef on the hoof, she forgot her distaste, let the shuddering need wash over her anew. From somewhere she remembered the very caustic criterion: All things being equal-
And Brady Kendall was a tall man.
Now he turned, brought the supercharged drink to her, grinned smugly down at her. "Here, baby," he said. "To us. To fun." His eyes slid to the bed, and his leer grew more venal. "To bedroom pyrotechnics."
Despite her inner warnings Nova gulped her drink avidly, drank courage. She grimaced at its potency. "Did you put anything in this drink besides vodka?"
"Sure, doll. There's mix, like you said." He winked. "And all those ice cubes."
"So I noticed."
"C'mon, Nova," he urged, "this's a party. We don't want any prudes around here." The hungry leer again. "Especially when it gets to countdown time."
"I told you, Brady, if I drink too much I'm not much woman." Her voice slurred. "And for you, baby, I want to be lots of woman."
He came to her quickly, knelt beside her chair, gathered her into his arms. Again he attempted kissing her. And again, Nova twisted her head, avoided the kiss, let his lips slide harmlessly on her cheek.
"Aww, baby," he groused. "What's the matter with you? Just a kiss, a little love. I'm crazy about you. You make my old percolator boil something awful."
"Let's skip the kisses, huh? Let's get to important things." She squirmed, felt her stomach tighten, felt her legs clench when the man's big paw began riling her breasts. "Yes, like that, baby...."
Kendall groaned. "Wow, you are one down-to-earth hunk of female, aren't you? I've always dreamed of meeting a woman like you. And now that I've found her, I don't know if I'll be man enough to handle it or not."
Nova brought up her hand, closed it on his, held it to her breasts, rolled it softly. "You'll handle things just fine," she purred.
Now, abruptly, the man pulled back slightly, stared at her, this expression incredulous. Nova tried to pull him back, felt small desolation at having his hand gone. "Brady, what's wrong?"
"I can't help it," he said in a strangled tone, "I've just gotta look at you. You're so beautiful, so sexy, so much of what a man dreams about all the time. And then, just by accident, I happen to stumble on you in that bar, and now, just like this...."
The crude flattery was somehow moving, and excitement rampaged inside Nova, made her slightly giddy. "You're sweet, Brady." Her repugnance fading, she pulled him back, offered her lips, let him kiss her briefly. A torrid heat arced inside her bosom at the way he ground his lips to hers, at the way his clumsy hands wandered over her breasts, over her knees, slid down her silky legs.
"Baby," he growled. "You're gettin' with it. I knew you would." He tried kissing her again, but she held him off.
"My drink, honey," she alibied. Again she took a deep swallow of the tasteless, odorless liquor.
The woman Brady Kendall stared at so adoringly was a lovely creature, her present dishevelment and the press of time notwithstanding. She was a woman of 31, slim, fairly tall, weighing perhaps 120, standing five-six in her pumps. She was a blonde, her hair a careless, bouffant swirl, short and flattering. Her temptress gown was a simple black thing, figure-hugging, sporting a daring Basque decolletage. Her shoes were black patent, bewitching, rhinestone things, her hosiery seemingly woven of black, alluring cobwebs. In a word: Sin bait!
The gown was conceived with but one purpose in mind. To allure. The shoes, the extreme make-up, the saucy flirtatiousness were affected for that same purpose. From the moment she'd left home, had ducked into the ladies' room on arriving at Casey's Old Ranchero, had implemented this Jezebel vision that had been her basic intent from her cosmetics-cluttered handbag.
Come-on. With a capital C. And just before entering the bar to showcase herself, a last look at herself in the mirror, a grudging wonder at the quick transformation. If Lloyd could see her now-Then she'd remembered. Quickly she'd twisted her wedding and engagement rings off her fingers, had dropped them into her bag. She'd smoothed the puffy skin there. Finally satisfied, she'd swayed sexily into the cocktail lounge.
Still, had Kendall been perceptive enough at this moment to see through that hussy facade, he might have detected the real woman beneath, he might have observed the frightened, shamed look that lurked deep in her crystalline blue eyes. He might have seen the way that lovely, flawless face caved in at times, revealed the self-loathing that lived behind that brassy smile.
Wanton on the outside-guilty, frightened amateur in the inside.
But Kendall was light years beyond perception at that moment. There was only one thing on his mind. And that was carnal ravishment of this glorious creature. And as his legs began to tremble, as his heart slammed murderously-as other masculine manifestations of need became rampant, defied further concealment-
"Baby," he choked, returning, hugging her, forcing his mouth to hers despite Nova's renewed attempts to slip the kiss, "I can't help it. I've gotta have you. Now. I can't wait much longer."
Nova shuddered, became that much more limp in his grasp. "Yes, Brady. I feel that way too. Now." She pulled away. "Please turn out the lights."
His face became abject. "No, honey, not like that. Let me see you, I mean, before we start. That's the best part. That really steams the old stud up."
The shudder intensified, a spear of evil drove through her body, split at its base, careened down into her loins. Simultaneously she remembered the time. If she sparred with this man, if she wasted precious minutes, lost sight of her essential reason for being here, for defiling herself-
The pain became unbearable, it seemed the lust was a huge hand, a hand that twisted and ground her entire being in its greedy clutch. Her smile was stiff, vaguely amoral. "All right," she murmured. "But not for long. Just long enough for me to get undressed. And then...."
His smile was a rubbery smear. "Yeah, baby. Then I'll rack you good. Put you through your paces like the hot babe you are...."
Nova winced inwardly, then reconsidered. Delicate, he might not be; but truthful, he was. Me-in a nutshell.
Again the crippling heat soared up, seared her. God, God-she groaned. How do people get like this? What gets into a woman-? Her expression turned caustic. Maybe it's what doesn't get into a woman.
Her face drawn into a caricature of lust, she brought up her hands, forced them to tug down her zippers, to undo clasps and snaps. And brief, trembling moments later-
"You devil," the man gritted from where he sat on the bed, his legs clamped together, "you little she devil. You did come out for business tonight, didn't you? Oh, that underwear. That body, those legs and boobs...."
For a long time Nova stood before him, clad in a lacy black brassiere, matching panties and garter-belt (it hurt to recall it was an ensemble Lloyd had bought for her birthday), she displayed her lovely, lithe body before the goggle-eyed lecher. She turned to give him profile of her high, voluptuous breasts, of her thin, exciting legs in the shadowy hosiery. Her calves flared maddeningly, a quick intake of breath made her tummy flutter, made her sharp, tightbound breasts leap up.
"Melons," Kendall gulped. "Regular baby melons. Nova, you doll, what a set! Those nipples, the way they stand up. They're begging, begging...." A whine squeezed past his teeth. "Please, baby, over here ... "
Adrift in eroticism now, irresponsible, beyond conscience, knowing only an omnipotent lust, Nova forgot to protest. Like a mindless robot, she minced toward the sitting man.
She swayed, sighed as he slid his hands behind her, undid the brassiere clasps. She crowded herself toward him, held her breasts herself, fed those stinging nibs to his greedy lips, to that torturing tongue. A tidal wave of heat slammed up in her brain, rendered her totally helpless. She hissed at his ministrations, she made quick, restless, little steps in place as his hands roved her stockinged legs, she adjusted with pagan eagerness as his hands began to explore and fondle her lower body.
And when his tongue swirled, when his fingers drew down the front of her panties, rumpled that golden fleece-
Nova lost total control, she became basic woman, she sank into that realm of dissolute sensuality, she became female animal in essence.
She clung to Brady, she fed him, accommodated him, she jerked and throbbed at his every touch, she yearned toward eternal continuance of this voluptuary delight.
Then, finally, when she could bear the torture no longer, she broke away, exulted in the liquid pop of his cheated lips, ran to kill the lights.
She paused on the return trip, kicked off her shoes, stripped off her panties. Now the garter belt was unfastened, was being ripped down her legs, stockings still attached, in one frantic tug. She reeled toward the bed, where Brady struggled with the last of his clothes. Her brain glazed, nothing existing now beside this paralyzing desire. She fell upon him and help-ed him with his shorts.
Then, both of them naked on that bed, Nova urging herself toward him, her hands stroking and clenching, she involuntarily betrayed the desperate extremes of her need. She dropped her hand along his hips, let it careen down his belly. Her fingers clawed and groped. And when she found him-her hand assessed him-
A long, sighing shudder went through her, she felt an eerie sense of peace and Tightness. She felt warm inside, like she wanted to sob in relief. So long-it had been so long. Since she and-
She didn't finish the thought. Instead she writhed closer to Brady, she panted in rapid, shallow puffs. "Oh, darling, you're all man...."
Kendall chuckled arrogantly. "You know it, kid. And you're all woman, too. A clawing little hellcat. Careful, honey. That has to last a few more years yet." His hands clenched her buttocks, ground her belly softly to his thighs. "You dig that? You really dig Brady?"
"Yes, yes...." she intoned feverishly. "I do, I do ... I want you, I ... "
Then her body erupted, she recoiled as he tried to kiss her again. "No!" she spat. "Never mind that. Get with things. Do love me. I've had all the workup I need. Please, Brady. Now." Her hands scrabbled and guided, her body fought its way beneath his. "I want...." she snarled, her fingers becoming vicious claws, "you ... right now!"
With that she surged upward, ground her hips, she guided him to her with one greedy lunge. Instant-ly her legs wound and trapped, her fingers deserted their beachhead, clawed and gathered flesh at the small of his back. A snarl ruptured her throat.
"Holy cow!" the man groaned, amazed at this heathenish display of need. "You don't fool around, do you? You act like you ain't had any for months."
"Don't talk, damn you!" she spat. "Just move." Her body lurched and jolted, her legs tightened, her heels drummed. "Oh, oh!" she moaned in a mighty exhalation, "that feels good, so good. Wonderful, wonderful. You gorgeous man!"
The amazed male had little to do in complying with the wanton's explicit requests. Dazed by the rapidity of the evening's happenings, at Nova's amazon strength and determination, he merely rode with the rampaging tide of passion, counted himself one of the most blessed of men. If ever there was a woman avid for physical love, a woman who'd taken such complete charge, who'd all but torn him out at the roots-
He chuckled in his mounting joy, he felt that concussive pressure building up inside his loins and stomach, almost as if it were sapping his very male vitality-He began to groan lowly in his throat.
"Not yet," Nova choked, "please, darling, not yet. Wait for me, wait...." Her arms tightened; he'd never believed any woman, passion or no passion, could be that strong. "I'm almost there, almost. Wait, lover, wait. You glorious stud, you stallion...."
Nova's body moved faster, she felt that holy release growing for her, she felt it gathering, backing up. Now it seemingly lashed and hissed, battered at the very dam of her female mystique, it tumbled and roared for release.
Her brain was bathed with heat, her eyelids caged a red fire behind them, her very blood seemed to have been turned to a molten soup.
Wonderful, her mind shrieked, wonderful! I've waited and waited, I've dreamed how this would be-And now-this magnificent, plunging, possessing male brute, this dominating bull-God! Never let it end!
But all too soon that frantic heat and pain, the breathtaking delight toward which her whole being was focused, came avalanching down on her, crushing her, maiming her. It gathered her in the cutting, hacking rubble of sensation, sent her hurtling downward, downward-
She bit Kendall's shoulder, stifled her chaotic cries of triumph as best she could. But even before they'd run their course her body erupted anew, she was boarding the ecstasy express again, she was straining, stretching, reaching-
Once more that sweet explosion rocked her, spun her into space like a helpless rag doll, left her floating there, tumbling and turning, wailing in dizzy release and gratitude.
Then she sensed that continuing motion and she was instantly transported, replaced on that bed. Looking up at that aggressive man, straining once more. If only-
She was cheated this time. For shortly he began to groan in his throat. And in a fit of self sacrifice, wanting to repay this man for the pleasure he'd conferred, wanting to give him something she couldn't give to Lloyd, she forwent her own desire, she adjusted her body, ground herself to him, ministered to his makness in that sweetest of ways-that way only a woman can minister to a man.
Short moments later the sighs became hoarse howls, muffled pronouncements of delight. She held him close, gloried in that final throbbing, she wriggled in final welcome and thank you. She felt refreshed though weak, she felt as if she'd realized her true purpose in life, as if she could now go on once more-courageously, purposefully.
She sighed when he fell limp atop her, crushed her back into the mattress. "Baby," he groaned softly. "You were just too much. Too much woman for any man."
"You too, Brady," she whispered. "A real man. A regular toro. A bull...."
"Baby," he chuckled, "You say the sweetest things."
Now the passion had melted, the world had intruded again. And they were pressure-driven, practical human beings once more. Especially Nova. Time was of the essence now. If she was to keep Lloyd from becoming suspicious-Run, run!
She was surprised to find Brady totally dressed as she emerged from the bathroom. He was suddenly in a hurry to break away. Strange, she thought. Especially when he'd been so insistent on an encore. And now this-
A small dagger of terror imbedded itself in her heart as she saw the hard look in his eyes. "Brady?" she quaked.
"You're married, aren't you, Nova?" he said point-blank. "I can tell."
"No," she lied. "It's not that at all. I just have to get home. I've got to be at work early. I...."
"Knock it off, honey. You don't fool me. All that hurry-up bit, the way you jumped every time somebody new came into the bar. That vodka routine, the way you insisted on driving your car over here...." His grin grew sadistic.
"No, that's not so at all. Like I said, I...."
"You and daddy're having problems. You're getting even this way. You just came out to get your ashes hauled, right? And now, kiss-off, never darken my door again. Right, honey?"
Nova's expression grew disdainful. "Well, what did you expect? An eternal romance? You're good for certain things. But that's about it. Otherwise you're...."
Slowly he moved to the chair, took up her purse.
Nova charged him as he opened her bag, but he flicked her away like she was a bothersome insect. "Please," she choked as he sifted through its contents.
Then he plucked out the two rings, held them up to her with a smug smile. "Had you pegged all along," he said. "And I thought to myself, why should I be the goat? If this little tramp gets hers, why shouldn't I get mine? It's not every day a man gets a chance to put the needle to a doll. Usually it's the other way around."
Nova's face paled. "What are you talking about?" He removed her wallet, slipped the twenty and three tens out of it. "Stud fee," he snuffled. "And what are you gonna do about it? Call the cops, go running to daddy...? I doubt that."
He stuffed the money into his pocket. "Thanks, honey. You're the best pig I've had in ages. See you around. I hope."
Then he was gone. And Nova was frozen in place, her heart jammed high in her throat, panic and despair swamping her. She'd never known such rage, such sense of perfect helplessness. As she realized how totally vulnerable she was, how she'd so blindly risked everything, just to satisfy this insane, overpowering physical urge.
She fell onto the bed, began to sob bitterly. How could I let myself become so weak, be used like this?
I've got to get hold of myself, I've got to stop this prowling of mine. God, help me-
But even as she pleaded she knew her words were hollow, she knew she didn't possess the necessary strength.
The naked, trampled woman sobbed more rackingly now, her cries shrill yips of anguish.
CHAPTER TWO
Days had passed, and tonight, comfortably settled for an "at home" evening in their spacious, beautifully furnished living room, Nova and Lloyd Dixon enjoyed peace. Both of them on their davenport, Nova already in her nightie and robe, they read and listened to the soft background music emanating from the FM radio segment of their expensive hi-fi system. Nova read a magazine, while Lloyd, having worked overtime until 8:00, caught up on the newspaper.
And still, calm and happy as the scene might appear on the outside, Nova detected the underlying current of unrest infecting both of them. Lloyd was patently restless. And utilizing that mental telepathy intrinsic in every good marriage, she recognized the danger signs, she knew full well what to expect before the night was over.
The mere thought of it nettled, and she cringed inwardly, thought how unworthy she was of this good man's love, how much more unworthy each new infidelity to her husband made her. At that moment Nova Dixon would have needed a stepladder to stroke a snake's underbelly, so mean and low did she feel.
It was a balmy spring night, the day's temperature had hovered at 90 degrees, and now the first chill of a desert night invaded. Through the patio door at the room's end she could see the twinkle of lights from the houses down in the Salto Valley, she could see the brilliance of the full moon on the still-damp grass (Lloyd had left the sprinkler going in his absence this evening), and she thought how beautiful it all was, how good life had been to them.
A pang hit her heart and she amended the rose-colored thought. Insofar as material things are concerned anyway-count your blessings.
There was Lloyd, in the first place, whom she loved with all her heart. She would have died to have him hurt in any way at all. Yet he was the reason she was so lust-driven. And in direct retroaction, so guilty and remorse-ridden.
There was Lloyd's $15,000 a year job as head of the drafting department at Red Diamond Machine Tool Corporation, there was this beautiful split-level home in S?,!to Valley, an elaborate residence Lloyd had felt duty-bound to provide for her, a $24,000 millstone mortgage-wise. It was a home she dearly loved, a home she should have been totally happy in.
There was their position in the Salto Valley social structure, there were their many friends in the elite development. There were the varied social and service clubs she and Lloyd belonged to. There were the many female clubs Nova had joined in simple defense against boredom.
There was their new Chrysler, the new furnishings the house boasted, the reality that she could (within reason) buy almost anything she wanted, and no questions asked. There was the fact that Lloyd was forever bringing her small gifts-jewelry, lingerie, flowers, shoes, dresses-pretty things he'd taken impulsive fancy to. If there was anything they hasseled about it was this. For, after all, there was a budget of sorts, and it had to be adhered to.
Yet there was no bite in her recriminations. The mere hurt in his eyes as he thought his gift was unappreciated, to hear him declare his love, offer the frills or flowers as material testament of that love, was enough to break Nova's heart. She'd melt before that sad look and seconds later they'd be hugging and kissing, vowing eternal love. And Nova's eyes would grow misty all of a sudden.
She could truthfully say there was no article of lingerie in her drawers that Lloyd hadn't bought for her. He liked to see her in pretty things. Shoes, gowns, accessories, jewelry-he regarded them all as his domain. He doted on her, his entire world revolved about her. And if he couldn't pamper her, follow her with his eyes every moment they were together, he wasn't happy. After all, what was life for, what was marriage's purpose?
She remembered one time she'd disobeyed his dictums, had let him catch her in a pair of seam-ripped panties. Mild rage (quite something for Lloyd) had erupted in his eyes, and he'd ripped the offending garment off her body where she stood, had flung the tattered remains into the trash. Nova had never let him catch her like that again.
Now she looked up from the blurred magazine page at which she stared, turned to Lloyd, watched him as he read intently. Her heart melted, she felt a catch in her throat to see his dark, strong handsomeness, to see the firm line of his jaw and nose, the burning intensity of his black eyes. His hair was soft, slightly wavy, his skin was clear, unblemished. His body was strong and lean.
He was a handsome, exciting man of 34, even after eight years of marriage. She could easily see how other women might be attracted to him, and the mere thought generated instant jealousy. She felt a quick tingling low in her body, muted and unmistakable desire.
Her heart ached intolerably at the irony of it all, and she reached out, tremblingly stroked his strong, smooth hand. He smiled gently, put down his paper, took her hand in return. "What is it, baby?" he asked.
"I just wanted to touch you. You looked so handsome. Anything wrong with that?"
"Nothing at all. Be my guest. Remember though, I get reciprocal rights."
"You be my guest," she quipped.
They laughed softly, Lloyd leaned, kissed her lightly on the lips. Nova shuddered again, clung to him, kissed him feverishly. "I do love you, angel," she breathed.
He looked at her probingly. "The way you say that, Nova-almost as if there were some doubt. I know you love me. Almost as much as I love you."
"I love you more."
"You think so?"
"Loving is a woman's whole life. A man has his job, his ambitions. Then his wife. While a woman has only her home, her husband, her children...." She faltered.
"We ... we promised not to talk about that, honey," he reproved her gently.
"I'm sorry, baby. It just slipped out. I didn't mean...."
"That's all right, Nova. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. You wouldn't."
"I wouldn't," she echoed, "for anything in the whole world. You're my everything, Lloyd." Her voice cracked. "I love you so desperately."
He caressed her hair. "There, darling, forget it. How about something to drink?"
Nova was glad for the excuse to leave the room. Another second and the heartsickness would have got to her; she'd have been blubbering like an idiot. "Sure Lloyd. What would you like?"
"Some of that sherry, I guess. Not too much, though. I need something. I'm pretty jumpy."
"So I noticed." She smiled archly, fled the room.
They sat until eleven, mostly silent, the wine dulling apprehensions, both reading, listening to the music, touching each other gently from time to time.
Nova didn't know exactly when it was that she dozed off. Suddenly she realized that the room was dark about her, that Lloyd wasn't sitting beside her any more. That he was, instead, kneeling before her on the floor, that his hands were sliding on her bare legs, raising her nylon nightie higher, higher.
"Darling?" she murmured sleepily. Then she felt his warm, soft lips on her bare legs, she felt them sliding and tickling on her thighs. "Lloyd...." she sighed.
"I love you, Nova," he breathed. "With all my heart." His hands formed a vanguard, arranged her nightgown, opened her robe. And when his lips climbed up her thighs, hopscotched to her smooth, fragrant belly, she jerked, tried to stop him.
"Lloyd ... you don't have to. I ... "
"I know I don't have to. I want to, I want to show you my love."
"You do, Lloyd." And sensing that initial frustration, that feeling of inadequacy that always presaged the full-scale desire that eventually overcame her, she still fought him. "You show me in so many ways. This isn't necessary."
His hands, his kisses were employed skillfully, made her melt, fanned the passion fires savagely. And as his lips spiraled and criss-crossed on that bowl, as she felt his hot breath on her flesh-
"Je vouse aime...." he whispered, "plus qu'hier, moins que demain...."
"Darling ... What does that mean?"
Gravely, ardently he replied, "I love you. More than yesterday, less than tomorrow."
Nova felt her heart would explode, so intensely did she love her husband at that moment. "Baby, that's the sweetest thing you've ever told me. Where did you hear it?"
"I read it in a book once. I've been saving it for a special moment. Like this one."
Her voice broke, she felt so terribly ashamed to remember what she'd become, to remember the appalling secret she must keep from her beloved. "Darling, darling," she said, "I don't deserve you ... I don't deserve love like this. I'm so unworthy . .
"You do," he choked. "You deserve so much more. It's so little ... compared to what another man might give you. It's all I ... have...." His voice verged on a sob. "Stay with me ... Don't ever leave me...."
She gathered his head, held it tight to her body. "Don't!" she sighed, "please, precious, don't. I'll stay. I'd die without you. You give me more love, you thrill and satisfy me more than any man ... any dozen men ... could. You love me, I love you. That makes all the difference, that makes all ... that other ... so unnecessary."
His voice was indescribably sad. "I wish I could believe that, angel. I curse myself ... that thing ... every day, every hour of my life."
"Don't, Lloyd," she lied. "You're my life, you're all the man I'll ever need."
Abruptly he stirred. "I want to love you," he said softly. "Here? Or do you want to go to the bedroom?"
Despite her heart-wounding love she still sensed reluctance. Yet she knew if she refused him now he'd be hurt grievously. And since it was truly all they had-"In the bedroom, baby."
Without another word he reached for her, lifted her easily from the davenport. He carried her through the darkness, groped for the stairs leading to their bedroom. Then they were slowly going up, Nova was clinging to him wildly, her pulse beginning to quicken.
She saw an errant ray of moonlight through a crack in the drapes. As he laid her on the bed she said-"Open the drapes, darling? I'd love to ... have you love me in the moonlight."
He became cold at once. "Please, Nova. Let's not. In the dark ... is better. You understand, don't you?"
"Yes," she said, immediately sorry for even suggesting such a thing. "I understand. I just wasn't thinking."
Lloyd made a prolonged ritual out of removing her robe, out of pulling her nightgown over her head. Then she was naked, her body dark on the sheets, she lay in rigid readiness, waited while he stripped off his clothes, came to her.
"Darling, darling," Lloyd breathed as he drew her close, kissed her forehead, her eyes, her ears, the tip of her nose. And finally he lingeringly kissed her lips. "You're so beautiful. I need you, worship and cherish you so. I'm complete only when I'm with you."
Nova felt the heat mount within her, she sensed that ease, that crushing feeling of dependency come over her. And she dazedly wondered how, once having known love like this, she could have settled for animalistic substitute as she had the other night with that Brady Kendall beast. Her stomach rolled helplessly.
"I love you, Lloyd," she repeated, the intensity of her emotions twisting her up inside. "With all my heart, my mind, my soul. I'll always love you."
The kissing went on and on. Until, gradually, any small reservations she might have had were gone. And she knew that, frustration at the end to the contrary, she wanted this thing now, she wanted her husband to love her in the only way left to him.
Thus when Lloyd's hands roved over her tummy, when they grazed her thighs so maddeningly, she surrendered herself totally to the burgeoning sensations.
If this was all they had left-all they could share-
Now he lowered his lips inch by inch, along the smooth line of her throat. They burned fiery trails across her clavicle, climbed toward the dark, turgid crowns of her breasts. Nova moaned, writhed as his lips captured each nipple, as his tongue swirled and drilled the nibs, made them alternately soft, then hard.
"Let me love you," he intoned. "Let me love you, no matter how little I have to give to you."
An eerie humming filled her ears. The heat rose within her as she anticipated this variant love. And knowing that sufferance was the only gift she could give to her husband, she surrendered, hurried toward the apex of sensation herself. "Yes, my darling," she breathed. "Anything you want."
For what seemed an eternity he attended her breasts, he drove the nipples back in on themselves, he seared spirals about them, he nipped them teasingly, until Nova felt like her breasts were swollen and hot, like they were being drawn up into those tortured caps.
All the while his free hand roved her body, slid on her hips and belly, cupped the terminus of her torso, investigated and probed her.
Until she was virtually a woman on fire.
Then, gradually, skillfully, in that graceful way of his, he turned his lean body, he let those stinging lips slither downward. Across her diaphragm, to her belly. Where they lingered, spiraled anew, tortured that sensitive center. Lips, tongue, lips, tongue-Her tummy tumbled nonstop. And now the frustration, the knowledge that nothing more could come of this, was gone. To be replaced by an overwhelming yearning, a greed for the act. Nova twisted her hands in his hair, sighed a paen of delight, urged him on.
She lurched as his teeth nipped at her, she automatically brought up her legs. Gradually the steeples toppled outward. Now she wanted this love with all her heart, she'd die if it didn't commence soon.
Her hands became urgent, twined in his hair. "Yes my lover," she gritted, "yes. Now. Love me. I want you so terribly."
"Precious, precious...." he groaned. Then he moved his body forward, downward. His hand opened, held her.
It seemed an eternity passed, as he approached her slowly. Nova held her breath, every muscle in her body screaming with tension.
She moaned hoarsely, lurched up at the initial contact. She began to thrash her hips, to sigh in quick, shattery puffs. Now there was reprieve from the cauterizing sensation as he attended her elsewhere in that erogenous way. Her legs fluttered.
"Darling," she called, "that's magnificent. You do me so gorgeously, you thrill me...." Abruptly her legs clamped hard, she groaned shrilly. And very shortly:
The sensation mounted, surpassed the boundaries of pain, was transformed, became sublime-something to be strained for, attained. She found moans breaking from her throat in stertorous, rapid cadence, she found herself raising and dropping her hips in pantomime of love she helped her lover achieve his erotic goal.
The cries became pinched in her throat, they signified the nearness of this cataclysmic release. Her fingers tightened, her legs flexed, she rose faster, faster. Still faster. She became aware that her whole body was awash with perspiration.
Then the earth seemed to split beneath them. It seemed to open, swallow them, house, bedroom, bed and all. She had reached a narrow, excruciating crack, she was trying to squeeze through it with all her strength. Then suddenly it gave way, she was through, on the other side; she was bathed in a hot, blinding light. She hurried toward it, gloried in the sensation of satisfaction and peace, she savored and wallowed in it.
She fell, fell-
Suddenly she was flooded with the most insane urge to reciprocate, to do something for her darling, to show gratitude for the glorious ecstasy he'd conferred upon her. Something, anything-
Involuntarily her hand groped for him. She had to defy Lloyd, prove to him, once and for all, that his disfigurement didn't matter, that she loved him desperately in spite of it. But as her hand neared him-
Lloyd jerked as if he'd been touched with a white-hot brand, he suddenly pulled away from her. "No!" he hissed. "I told you never to touch me, look at me there. Isn't it enough that I know I'm only half a man? Do you have to rub my nose in it?" His voice snagged. "Let me love you! That's all I have left in life. Don't deny me that."
"Darling," she gasped. "I'm sorry. But I couldn't help myself. You delivered me to such heights of glory I just wanted to do something for you. I feel so greedy, so useless. I want to share, I want to do something for you!"
Instantly the man was contrite; he gathered Nova into his arms, kissed her fervently, begged her to forgive his temper. "I love you," he groaned. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. You have to understand how I feel, you just have to." He held her tighter. "I need you, baby. Don't ever turn against me, don't ever leave me ... I'd die if you were gone."
Nova was vastly moved when she felt his tears falling on her breasts. She crowded his head to her, she rocked and crooned to him. "I love you, Lloyd; I need you even more than you need me. Don't you ever turn against me. No matter what I do ... Baby, my precious baby. I love you, love you...."
After a time Lloyd dozed on her bosom. And though she was cramped, though her shoulder ached, still she pillowed him. It was piddling penance for what she'd done to this man, this very center of her universe. Again she prayed for strength. She had to be strong, she had to fight those damnable drives and temptations. She must never betray her husband again. Never, never-
And still, magnificent as those sensations had been, as transfiguring as her passion had been, there was still that sense of incompleteness-of something left unfinished.
Nova lay awake for an hour more, staring into the darkness, her free hand stroking Lloyd's face gently. Now, recreating a picture of that last scum, Brady Kendall, on the screen of her mind, feeling crawly all over again, it was her turn to weep bitter, scalding tears.
Her spasms brought Lloyd from a deep sleep. "Nova, honey," he breathed. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Lloyd. Nothing at all. Go back to sleep." She held him closer, rearranged his head on her breasts. "I just love you, that's all. I love you so much."
Shortly he slept again.
Still Nova stared into space, wept silent tears now, cursed the damnable trick fate had played on them.
CHAPTER THREE
Six weeks had passed since that degrading night in Brady Kendall's motel room. And now it was early June, the first full heat of desert summer pounded down on the sprawling, 200,000-plus city of Tucson. Each day dawned with monotonous bright blue skies, each day the sun seared the land, drove the temperature to 100 degrees. The lawn sprinklers ran incessantly, the irrigation channels were full, were nightly subverted to water desert lawns, the air conditioners ran full tilt night and day. And this was only the beginning-July and August were yet to come.
Today Nova huddled in a dispirited, edgy ball in the center of her bed. She wore a sheer, pink peignoir, gold satin slippers. And a frantic, caged expression.
That ripping, prowling need was upon her again, an almost tangible phenomenon, an overpowering hysteria equally as strong as that a junkie suffers when needing a fix. Her entrails jumbled, her entire nervous system seemed to scream out for that regenerative release. No matter how hard she sought to quell the rampaging physical desire, to busy herself with household chores, with her social life, the mood simply wouldn't be dispelled.
Actually she'd done well to keep the snarling lust at bay as long as she had. The carnal fevers had started over a week ago, had burned unabated ever since. True, Lloyd had come to her frequently in these past weeks, bad conferred his counterfeit love, and this had helped. In addition she'd got buddy-buddy with Camille Ashley in the next block, they'd been busy with decorations for the Summer Art Fair; that had proved a blessed distraction.
But today-
And Nova hated herself unrestrainedly, she called herself every foul name under the sun. But when all was said and done, it simply didn't help. She was a flesh-and-blood woman, an extremely passionate female animal, in the prime of her sexual vitality. She had strong physical needs! Needs which Lloyd couldn't answer, needs for which there was only one palliative: A man, an aggressive, sexually-oriented man. A complete man!
That door-to-door salesman at eleven this morning, a rugged, youthful type of 25., his sport shirt open to reveal his bronzed, hairy chest, had been the start of it. A wave of weak hunger had swept her, her inner being had called out to him, she'd wanted to strip before him, seduce him, plead with him to take her to bed, confer that so vital missing ingredient in her life.
But the risk had precluded that. Her other nocturnal sorties into sin had been bad enough. But here-on her own doorstep? It was unthinkable.
Or was it? Surely she'd done nothing but think about that man ever since.
Thus the damnable self-loathing.
For how could a woman get like this, how could a decent woman entertain such sex fantasies, wallow in the hot, glutinous soup of her so-voluptuary longings?
Especially when she had a loving husband like Lloyd, when she had all the good things life could materially confer? When she avowedly loved her husband, felt sick to her soul to remember those betrayals during the past year.
She shook her bead angrily, thought of Lloyd, thought of how crushed he'd be if he learned the truth about her, if he knew the thoughts that constantly reeled through her sick mind. The terror came then. Dear God, he must never find out! Never, never! He'd die-I'd die-if the truth of my alley-cat ways ever came to light.
A shudder racked her, her limbs were sprayed with goose bumps. Lloyd, my beloved-why did that accident have to happen? We could have been so happy. With the love I had for you, you for me, we could have had a full, perfect life. Things could be so different. I wouldn't be the great tramp of the western world. Why, darling?
Abruptly her thoughts slid back to a distant, happier time for both of them. To those first years of their marriage. Before the accident-
And though the reveries hurt her, left her crushed and empty afterward, she couldn't help herself. They were, at this moment, all she had left.
Lloyd had been the most thrilling, most totally satisfying of lovers in those days. He had led and taught his virginal wife every step of the way, had opened her eyes to delights she'd never dreamed possible, he'd freed her of prudish inhibitions, made her realize the full capacity of womanhood, of married love.
A dull ache invaded her lower body. It seemed they'd always been in bed those days. Her eyes filmed.
Granted, there came a time when the honeymoon was over, when the nonstop passion had to diminish. But precious Lloyd made up in quality what their loved lacked in quantity, so that the intervals between their love bouts made them all the more delicious. All Lloyd had to do was touch her and she went limp, she ached in all those erogenous areas, her entire body burned with a sensual flame.
Sometimes it seemed memory of those happier times would crush her. It seemed her grief at their passing, at the fact they would never come again, was a thousand-ton weight on her shoulders. Lloyd, my darling Lloyd-her heart called.
Now she remembered a specific time, back in Indiana, before they'd moved west. They'd been married two years-she'd been 27 then-she was at the brink of her final flowering as a totally uninhibited female. And yet there were things she still rebelled at. Until that night, anyway-
It seemed a dream sequence now, something that had never really happened. A cold winter night, she and Lloyd had sprawled before their fireplace playing a quiet game of gin, toasting themselves, at peace with the world. She could still remember how clean and fresh she'd felt, how immaculate Lloyd-they'd both just showered-had looked. They'd felt that need, they'd looked at each other, unspoken assent in their eyes.
The wine they'd sipped, the heat from the roaring blaze had taken their toll. And all at once the cards held no interest for them. With a husky sigh Lloyd had rolled toward her, had taken her into his arms. Seconds later, they'd been locked together, their bodies throbbing and sliding in unmistakable display of physical need.
Lloyd had extinguished the lights, had brought pillows and blankets from the bedroom. Then he'd spread Nova upon the blankets, had made a deifying ritual out of baring her beautiful body to the flickering firelight. Moments later he'd undressed himself. His male pride, in all its aggressiveness, had been exposed. Slowly he'd lowered himself beside her.
They'd hugged and kissed, they'd fondled and investigated each other, they'd taken time out to go on drinking. And Nova had gotten deliciously woozy and happy indeed. Anything-almost anything this man might want tonight-she'd thought.
It had been a prophetic self-dedication.
For as the night wore on Lloyd had become devilishly inventive, he'd introduced her to love rites unending. He'd painted her nipples with wine, had laved it off with his maddening tongue, he'd kissed her everywhere. He'd coaxed her to hover over him on all fours, had dipped her stone-capped breasts into his glass, had bathed her anew.
Later, as they'd become more intoxicated (by liquor and lust) he'd painted her more with the wine, he'd nearly driven her out of her mind lapping it away. Which, Nova remembered now, had always been Lloyd's gift to her-he'd been willing to confer that obeisance to her long before she'd ever had the slightest desire to reciprocate. "It doesn't matter," he'd comforted those nights when she'd tried explaining her lack, "I want to do this for you. Whether you want to or not. Just don't think me perverted, that's all I ask. Maybe someday you'll change, you'll...."
Someday had come that night. Overpowering passion getting to her as it had never done before, Nova had found herself painting Lloyd too, she had found herself taking wine in a very unique way. Lloyd, hovering over her, doing some painting of his own, had been greatly moved, had moaned and shuddered as if he were fever-racked.
And afterward, both of them out of their heads with lust, they'd forestalled those pagan drives, had played for what seemed an eternity. And always, lurking in the back of their minds, the comforting knowledge that when all this was through-
The sublime delight still waited.
It was this missing factor, this therapeutic coup de grace, that Nova bemoaned now. Just the thought of what Lloyd had once been able to give her was like a dagger being twisted in her heart.
Like greedy children they'd kept the best for the last, they'd played and experimented, had employ-ad a dozen different positions, a dozen different twists and slides, they'd gorged themselves on sensation. Now Nova recalled how she'd straddled his torso, had slowly descended, had savored his total presence. How she'd balanced herself, had posted, brought herself to a screaming, dizzying peak. The mere remembrance was torture.
And afterward there'd been more heights-like red hot ingots strung on a cable-heights unending-as Lloyd, having drunk too much, seemed to take forever to achieve his own victory. She had strained and shrieked and praised and exhorted and-
Been driven right out of her skull with nonstop ecstasy.
Summarily Nova shuddered, audibly sucked in her breath. No, no! She mustn't think of those times, she mustn't let herself get worked up like this. Because they were gone forever, they would never come again. Her beautiful lover was gone, he would never be able to deliver her to those sublime heights of passion again.
And, oh, it hurt! It hurt so terribly!
God knew she loved her husband, that she didn't want to betray him, cheat on him like this-but there were times when a woman needed that other ... when-
And Nova was a woman, a hot-blooded woman, approaching those most sensual, sexually proficient years of her life. A woman with no place to take this hissing bed of coals.
And though she hated herself-
What else was she to do?
She shivered anew, relived the night of the accident. When she and Lloyd had been returning from a dance, a sudden freezing rain coming up in the interim. Lloyd, bullheaded with too much drink, driving too fast for existing conditions, ignoring her entreaties. The skid, the dull hiss of tires on glare ice, the bridge looming up, disappearing, looming up again.
Then the heavy smack of steel, the impact, the sense of weightlessness as they'd fallen forty feet down that steep river incline.
It seemed she relived the eternity in which she'd climbed up from unconsciousness, she could almost feel that lost terror, that confusion all over again.
Miraculously she'd survived the accident with only minor bruises. But Lloyd-
It had been days before the doctors had finally told her of that necessary, life-saving surgery. He'd been thrown from the car, had landed in a pile of jagged concrete slabs that had been dumped for fill. A two-foot length of reinforcing rod had caught him, had pierced and torn.
From that moment on, Lloyd Dixon had been only half a man.
And Nova was sorry, God knows, she grieved for him, did everything under the sun to help him recover his ego, to help him readjust to this barren new life. She loved him still. But there were times-
Like now.
If only, she raged, we hadn't been so selfish. If only Lloyd had let me bear his child when I wanted to. At least I'd have that tangible testament of our love, I'd have that anchor to stabilize, to see me through these bad times. But no-we were ambitious, we would accumulate a nest-egg first. There was time enough for children.
But time had run out.
Suddenly the regret was gone, was replaced by memory of that magnificent night of love before their fireplace. And the lust was instantly fullblown, it stalked her with red-eyed persistence. I'm sorry, Lloyd, she wailed to herself, but I can't help it. It's like something gets hold of me, won't let go. Not until I go out, find that man, that instrument-
Her libido piqued, she opened her peignoir now, let her fingertips graze her erect, turgid nipples. She started, sighed at the exquisite sensation. Maybe, she thought, if I do this, I can fight off this crazy desire, I can be strong for a few more days-a week even. Oh, Lord, Lord!
Now her hands swirled on her silken belly.
Shortly she was writhing on the bed, her cries coarse and guttural. She moaned like the tormented animal she was.
But Nova's counterfeit release proved to be only that, and short-lived substitute that it was, it did not annihilate her overpowering need for a man.
Thus, at approximately 10:30 that very night-having told Lloyd she would be attending a cosmetics demonstration party, that she and Cammy would probably stop for a snack afterward, and not to wait up-she found herself in an apartment belonging to a very slick operator named Del Rondo.
Nova had encountered him at Club Sorrento, an out-and-out dive that afforded the anonymity she desired. Within an hour's time she'd subtly indicated to the flashy man just what private devils were eating at her.
And now, in the clean, if somewhat threadbare apartment, they were both committed to seeing what they could do about expunging aforementioned minor Satans. A task the grinning, venal-eyed Rondo was happily anticipating.
To seduce a single woman, Nova thought, recalling an article she'd read someplace, the man has to ply her with syrupy endearments, romantic moods, promises of love undying. To seduce a married woman he has but to make her laugh. Probably because there's so little laughter in most marriages, she con-concluded tipsily.
Rondo certainly worked overtime on the latter. Charming and witty in an almost professional way, he'd kept Nova laughing since the moment he moved in on her, he'd regaled her with a flippant brand of flattery, he'd entertained her with quick, incisive barbs, with drawn-out jokes (politely blue) and shaggy-dog stories.
Now, as he mixed drinks for them on the coffee table, he finished a tale about a hotel manager who kicked a crew of chess fanatics out of his lobby: "Don't you get it, Nova? He was pulling his chess nuts out of the foyer?"
Nova, having had a few drinks too many, forgetting caution beneath the barrage of quips and pans, laughed loudly, then groaned. "Del, that's awful, simply-awful...."
"He shrugged. It's clean, honey...."
"I don't know as I wouldn't prefer the other kind."
"You came to the right place. In the same vein: What do they call a guy who's ape over a prostitute's bosom?"
"I don't know," she giggled. "What do they call him?"
"A horse chestnut, natch!"
Again she chuckled. "Oh, Del, you are the craziest. I don't know when I've laughed so much. It's been a real ball."
His leer broadened. "It isn't over yet, honey. Or have you forgotten?"
Nova was just drunk enough to reciprocate his bawdy talk. "I wouldn't be here if I had, would I?"
"No. I guess not." He advanced, handed her a squat glass. "What's with this vodka bit?" he asked. "I'd love to mix you a real drink. A martini, a Rob Roy, I've got dozens of goodies...."
"I just happen to like vodka, that's all." She sought to sidetrack him. And as further testament to her degree of intoxication, she said, "Not so much talk. How's about one of those kisses of yours? Like in the car."
"My pleasure, madame." Instantly he put his Scotch down, took her into his arms, tilted her chin. Then he lowered his handsome face closer, inched his lips to hers. His mouth drove gently, insidiously, broke down all remaining barriers, turned Nova to an unabashed wanton. She ground her hard, pointed breasts to him, she allowed his hand to slide on her silky hip. When he darted his tongue into her mouth, she bit him playfully, sent hers out to meet him. A very erotic duel was commenced.
And Nova became wilder by the minute, let herself go completely. After all, she justified, six weeks without-It was a long time.
And this Del Rondo was quite a man. Tall, dark, somewhat rangy, there was something about him that reminded Nova of a predatory animal. His complexion was dusky, his brows dark and thick, his hair wavy. Arrogant eyes drilled unflinchingly into hers, made her feel weak, fluttery inside. He was a cocky opportunist, an accomplished swordsman; his cold smile proclaimed that here was a man who'd tumbled many and many a doll, had made them squeal with joy. Nova found herself quailing constantly before that smug stare, was struck by the feeling that she was "square" in his eyes, an ingenue, a non-swinger. The look spelled challenge: Nova couldn't help but feel that she must prove herself just as cynical, as hardboiled as he.
Rondo bore vague resemblance of her own Lloyd. He was a bigger man, his face a little more time-ravaged "result of a lifetime of drifting, obviously", his eyes harder. There was little of Lloyd's depth and sensitivity. She was sure Rondo knew very little of gentleness or patience. He was the kind who took much, gave little.
Yet the fascination was undeniable. She felt her pulse race when his eyes swept over her body, when he visualized the lush, nude figure that lay beneath that chiffon gown.
A storm roiled inside her, scrambled her vitals, made her wild and restless. Viciously she slammed her mouth back to his, she was aggressor, she slid her tongue along his lips, jammed it into his mouth. Go for broke, the chaotic thought came. And if there was ever a man to break a woman-tame her-The sense of evilness flamed higher, she squirmed in eager inpatience.
They drank, kissed. They drank again. And when Del casually began unbuttoning the front of her dress, she fell back, stretched luxuriantly. "Be my guest, baby," she purred.
But when he hauled at her slip, tried to sample those high, symmetrical globes first hand, Nova rebuffed him. Standing, she pulled the dress over her head. "Why don't we get down to basic?" she taunted. Now the slip fluttered away, revealed the provocative red lingerie she wore tonight. A tease item from the word go-Again, an ensemble Lloyd had bought for her.
"You are some woman," Rondo said, staring hungrily at her body. "I haven't run into an eager beaver like you in many and many a day. You sure you ain't gonna charge me when we're all through?"
"Keep talking smart," she threatened lightly, "and I might just do that. Only you couldn't afford it, honey."
"Think so? We'd have to see about that." Nova drifted to her drink, sipped at it thirstily, was shocked slightly at her brazen behavior. Acting the tramp was one thing. Playing the nympho was quite another. Still the frenzy was upon her.
She reached behind her, unsnapped the brassiere, threw it toward Del. Then she backed toward the bedroom. "Want me, honey?" she coaxed. "Come and get-Before I bubbles over and you have to throw me out."
A grimace of actual pain distorted Rondo's features. "Oh, you little witch...." he groaned. "You teaser witch. You have got a bad case, haven't you?"
Nova kept retreating before him, totally adrift in her lust trance, the evilness simmering hotly in her belly. The yearning expression in his eyes did wonders for her morale. She was a woman, she still had the power to allure, to make men crawl. It was a good feeling.
As was the feeling Del Rondo engendered in her when he caught her in that dark bedroom, tumbled her backward onto the bed, raised her stockinged legs, began to kiss them. She shivered, squealed at the exquisite tickling, at the glide and flow of his lips on the silky nylon. She went limp, murmured in pleasure as he reached down, peeled her panties off her hips, down her legs.
"Hey," she giggled as he rolled her onto the cool sheets, "how about the rest? My stockies and shoes?"
"Never mind those," he snorted. "They won't hurt anybody. I dig my dolls that way." She heard the hiss of his zipper. "Be right with you, dolly."
She saw his nude body outlined in the doorway as he went to being fresh drinks. In silhouette his readiness was painfully apparent, and she felt that hand clench inside her. Then he was back, he handed her a cold glass. He leaned, clicked on a radio. Instantly fee room was filled with muted music. He came to her then. "There," he muttered. "All the comforts of home...."
He sucked noisily at his drink, then put it aside. Without a moment's hesitation he came to her, wound his legs around her, gathered her, kissed her hungrily. In the process he pressed himself to her thighs, and Nova's heart leaped. Man, she exulted, all man!
She drove her frenzied mouth to his, she slid her hot hands along his back. Then, dissatisfied with even this, she let her hands wedge between their bodies. Patent murmurs of adoration broke from her.
Rondo was amazed. He'd met sex-cats in his time, but this kook-What was with her anyway? "You like?" he muttered. "That meet with your approval?"
Nova was beyond coquetry; she was inflamed terribly. "Yes," she sighed, "oh, yes ... It's marvelous ... you're marvelous."
He was instantly all rooster. "I don't suppose you can wait, can you?"
"I can manage," she said. "For a little while anyway. What have you got in mind, lover?"
"This," he hissed. And with a smooth, deft motion, he'd raised Nova so she was hovering over him. Instantly his head moved, he was under her hanging breasts, his lips and tongue were flicking at them maddeningly. Nova felt a flame singe her entire inner body, localize at a certain spot. She quickly adjusted her arms, lowered herself to him. With one knee between his legs, almost as if afraid she'd lose him, she gently. nudged him.
A quick gasp escaped her as he gathered her breasts, brought them together, worked the nipples to a double peak so they touched each other. Then he brought his lips up, captured both at the same time. And while his mouth corraled and trapped, his tongue tortured the helpless berries, made them ache with delight.
Nova recoiled slightly, might have escaped. The attention-one which Lloyd had introduced her to-reminded her of loyalties best forgotten. But still she marveled. She'd thought only Lloyd knew this maddening ministration. And now, this strange, this fly-by-night pickup-
Her breath came in rasping waves, she switched and slid her knees, she longed to touch him, capture him again.
The delectable torture went on and on. Until Nova was beyond control. Straining and twisting her body, she tried to capture him, and soft yips of impatience broke from her mouth. "Please, please," she wailed. "Del ... now. I want you now. Don't make me wait any more...."
He chuckled, released her. Moments later she was on her back, he hovered over her, ready. Nova, beside herself with desire, tried to crowd him to her. But he resisted. "What do you want?" he teased in coarse arrogance.
Her stomach tilted. "You, darling."
He would only grant her a little of himself, then halt, while Nova pleaded, squirmed beneath him. "Tell me, baby," he gritted.
Nova went quite out of her head. She only knew that she wanted his incredible presence, she wanted it with all her heart. That if he didn't confer it soon-
Then the magnificent ride, sensation intensified a hundredfold by the forced self-vilification, commenced.
And Nova threw her legs about him, clung to him like a famished child. In her frenzy she brought her ankles to his waist, let her weight ride on the ebb and flow of his strong back. Then, moments later, wild to participate further, she slid her legs down, began to rock her body in perfect counterpoint to his.
"Yes, yes," she chanted. "Like that. Don't be afraid, you won't hurt me. Ooh, you darling, you darling...." She groaned with each slam of his body.
Her body tensed as her deliverance neared, it seemed her arms would break from the pressure she exerted on his waist. In her mind it seemed she was running down a long corridor, at the end of which a thin sliver of light gleamed. It was imperative that she reach that far-off point, that she discover what intense light that was.
But the passage wasn't easy. For as she ran, got closer, the corridor grew narrower, the walls seemed to close in on her. She constantly bumped them, was channeled into a tighter passage. Still she squeezed and sidled, pushed and shouldered her way forward. Until, every muscle in her body at the breaking point, she finally reached that blinding aperture, rammed her way through.
A transfiguring ecstasy hit her then, that urgency and tension, that excruciating focusing of her entire self, suddenly fell away. And she was in a golden, glittering room, she was flowering, unfettered at last! She had reached that plateau of sensation she'd longed for, for so long. She was complete again, a true woman!
In the throes of this emancipation, the ecstasy melting her, making her limp, she savored that flowering, let sensation grow, grow-
And as the man continued, as the life-urge was reignited within her, she ran forward again, naked and free, through that golden chamber. It shimmered and reeled before her, she seemed to hear an unearthly, siren chorus singing in other antechambers. Luring her on. She hurried, hurried.
She entered first one smaller room, felt that release and flowering again. She fled to another room, knew another flowering. She ran shrieking in ecstasy toward still another golden cubicle.
At that moment she heard Del's groans of release, she awoke to the savage tempo of his body. For a moment she paused in that corridor, knew insane panic. No, he mustn't stop now, she had to see what awaited in that next room. She had to-
It seemed the chorus swelled, that a blinding kaleidoscope of lights blazed in that next chamber. A sense of gratitude nearly bloated her, caused her to explode as she realized that even though her gorgeous lover had achieved his own release, he still continued to possess her. And she wondered what spectacular man this must be. Even Lloyd had never been able to-
She forgot Lloyd, she forgot everything. She forgot the world. Only her celestial kingdom remained, those glowing doorways stretching into infinity.
She ran, ran-entered room after room, knew a cataclysmic repetition of ecstasy in every one of them. Still, greedy and appalled by this self-revelation, she charged onward down that blinding tunnel. It seemed each ensuing room must hold greater mystery, greater rapture-
Long afterward, as they both fought to regain their breath, as Nova came up from her rapturous trance to find her body dripping with sweat, as she wondered at the screams still ringing in her ears, at the aftertaste of the pagan encouragements she knew she'd called, the man said, "How about it, Nova, baby? Is once going to be enough for you? Or do you and I get together again sometime? Do we have an encore of encores?"
And though Nova knew she was courting disaster, though she knew it was direct violation of her amoral code, she was helpless to resist. She had to know this man again, she had to know this incredible agony ad nauseum. After all this time-
Weak, helpless before the masterful man, she shuddered, gulped, "Yes, darling. Oh yes, yes...."
CHAPTER FOUR
Three days had passed since that fantastic session at Del Rondo's apartment. Three days of hell on earth for Nova Dixon. Three days of nonstop self-loathing, three days of indecision where Del, where Lloyd, where her entire life was concerned.
And though she busied herself with her housework, though she tore from pillar to post in her Community Club work, her card club, her neighborhood coffee hours with her elite girl friends, thought of the degenerate performance she'd put on with Rondo was never far from her mind.
Of course Lloyd was of paramount importance. He must never see the anxiety in her eyes, he must never suspect she-was upset or guilt-ridden. Thus she was torn between two masters-her loyalty to her husband-and the relentless grip of this judgment-robbing lust. Sometimes she amazed even herself that she brought off the deception as well as she did.
Lloyd's meals were always ready, his clothes were in good order, the house was shipshape upon his arrival home, there was always a loving smile, a tender kiss and embrace. There were those moments of quiet love and sharing that reassured her, told her that somehow she'd survive this crisis, somehow she'd resolve the quandary her life had become.
Lloyd didn't have a suspicion in the world. As long as she kept up appearances, as long as she was always ready to acquiesce to his needs, there was little possibility of his discovering his wife was a round-heels tramp.
Bitterly Nova accepted the label. That's what she was; no amount of justification or moralizing would change it. A pushover, a lustful vixen. What else? Especially when she'd fallen so low as to arrange a return match with her professional stud, something that was against all her preset dictates of so-called decency. Especially when she couldn't get him out of her mind for a minute, when thought of the transporting love they'd shared made her jittery every hour of every day. Especially when she longed for repetition of same with a nerve-spasming lust.
Wasn't she the gal who'd ruled out involvement, romantic entanglement? The gal who was going to keep things on a purely mechanical level? Who needed sex only as medicine, who vowed that the supplier of that medicine would never supersede in importance the medicine itself?
The self-hatred bubbled over. What a gold-plated yak!
Del, Del, Del-it was all she thought about all day, all night long. Del, purveyor of ecstasy unlimited. Ecstasy the like of which she hadn't known since Lloyd had been a whole man.
Which was even more degrading. If there had been some personal regard, some smattering of affection-But this omnipresent yearning for sheer sex was unnatural. Even worse, it was entirely unfeminine. Men reacted like that. But women?
Still she couldn't shake the savage yearning. It was as if the time of tomorrow's afternoon rendezvous, Rondo's address, was literally engraved on the surface of her mind.
There was yet another extenuating circumstance. Among all the men she'd picked up (Rondo would be her fifth) he was the first who'd taken her to his apartment. All the others had been motel, hotel or backseat shackups, they'd had an unsavory, transient quality to them. Wasn't she doing the wisest thing to pick one man? Wouldn't arrangements be easier, safer, more convenient? After all, when a woman spreads herself thin, runs from lover to lover-
She had to stumble, expose her ugly secret sometime.
But this way-a preset assignation, anonymity, less chance of being come upon unaware in some bar by friends-was infinitely more discreet and foolproof.
Of even more immediate concern: Afternoon meetings would eliminate the need for alibis with Lloyd.
He never questioned the employment of her daytime hours. She would be home, fresh and showered, before he returned from work, there wouldn't be the slightest reason for suspicion.
Which was no small consideration. She mustn't run her existing, legitimate alibis into the ground. She belonged to innumerable social groups, she had Camille Ashley (who was mistress to a 40-year-old artist, who posed nude for him, inspired him in other unique ways) to cover for her so long as Nova covered for her, but there was no reason to run unnecessary risks, was there?
Often, thinking of her libertine prowls, Nova flushed with shame to wonder what her high-class female friends at church, in Community Club, in Civic Improvement League, even her bridge group, would think if they knew what kind of person she really was.
Usually she shrugged the conjecture off. There were certain of her friends she had distinct suspicions about. She wondered if she was the only woman in that circle (besides Cammy) who indulged in-was driven to-extra-marital activities. It was extremely un-likely.
Did they pull tawdry didos like hers-one-night stands in some of Tucson's best motels-did they engage in top-of-the-voice mergings, in wanton excesses-did they flit from bar to bar like dregs of night?
Hardly. Their love affairs (if they existed) contained more decency, more dignity-some modicum of security.
And if this was to be her life (was there any alternative, really?) why shouldn't she choose to dignify it, even if only in this practical, functional way? After all, Del hadn't got to her. He was still only means to an end--strong medicine, an instrument, purveyor of transient ease.
Nova realized she was alibiing again. Otherwise, why did her heart race so murderously at thought of Rondo? Why did the time seem to drag so? Tomorrow afternoon. Would it ever come?
Del Rondo's bedroom was in muted shadow, the drapes were snugly drawn, the FM transistor brought in dulcet background music from one of the Tucson stations. At Nova's insistence-they were already both naked-he'd tamed the air conditioner somewhat, the air was dry, comfortably warm, just right for the activities they both anticipated.
They were drinking again, Rondo sticking with Scotch, Nova on Vodka. Nova drank sparingly, thoughts of Lloyd's return home inhibiting her. Besides, her desire strong as it was, she wanted to be totally clearheaded when it came time to lock their bodies in that ultimate of embraces, she wanted to savor every iota of glorious sensation.
Now she shivered happily, arched her back like a contented kitten as Rondo slid his lips on her throat, as he ran his tickling fingers up and down her spine. "Ooh," she sighed, "that's marvelous. Baby, you certainly know how to treat a woman. You play me like a harp."
"My pleasure, sweet lady." His lips crept down, his teeth nibbled the out-thrust of clavicle gently. Another shiver. Nova's flesh became grained with goose bumps. She purred in delight as his hand caressed her buttocks, as it whispered over that pebbled surface.
"Baby, baby," she breathed, her lust further fueled, sweeping her entire body, her very psyche. Guilt vanished, doubts and fears were dissipated. She was glad she'd come. Any risk was worth this great delight. "What you do to me...."
"It's nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you."
Her body spasmed, she held him closer. "I know," she said. "Why do you think I came?"
"You mink, you gorgeous little mink. You really know how to make a man pop his skull, don't you?"
"I do my best," she laughed softly. Again her body surged to his. "Oh, Del, soon. I want you, I've thought of nothing else these past few days."
"How today?" he smirked. "Just like last time?"
"Any way you want me, lover. You name it."
"Any way?"
"Yes," she choked. "There are certain things...."
"I know. Anyhow, that's what you dolls think. But later on ... when you get used to the guy ... anything goes."
"How many, Del? You sound like you've had so many. How many girls ... women have you had?"
"A few."
"Tell me, baby. Give me a rough idea. Please?"
"It's hard to keep track. After all, I've been knocking around this squash for almost twenty-eight years."
"Why, I'm older than you are. I'm thirty-one."
"Really? I'd never have known it if you hadn't told me. I'd have taken you for twenty-eight or so. Like me ... "
"You're a flatterer. But I like it. How many, Del?"
"How many what?"
"How many women ... before me?"
"Fifty, sixty, I guess. I don't keep count. Why are you so curious?"
"So many, Del?" she said in an awed voice. "No wonder you're such a ... proficient lover ... you know how to drive me out of my mind."
"And you?" he smiled slyly.
"Only one other man...." she fabricated swiftly. "A long time ago ... I had a lover once. But he died.
"That's too bad," he shammed sympathy. "And you've been laying off ever since? That's why you came on so strong the other night?"
"Yes ... I guess so."
"That explains your mint condition. Lord, but you really take hold."
"Please, Del ... you're being vulgar."
"Dollies like their studs vulgar sometimes. I notice you didn't mind so much last time. Once we got going...."
She shuddered. "Yes, I guess I did let myself get carried away."
"You want to take off again? Right now?"
Her body throbbed reflexively. "Yes, darling. Oh, I'm such a wanton. But I can't help it. Now, Del...."
"Okay," he chuckled, "get up."
"Get up? Del...?"
"You said any way, didn't you?" His grin grew lewd. "You take over, honey. Okay?"
An evil throb hat Nova. Then she slowly rose.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Take one?" he said as she positioned herself.
"Yes ... I'll take one. If that's what you want."
"That's what I want. I get my charge out of seeing how many times I can make my dolls howl ... "
"You're being vulgar again." Nova fumbled.
"Yes. but nice vulgar."
She sighed sibilantly, lowered herself with infinite, savoring slowness. "Yes ... nice vulgar."
Then she embraced him, squirmed and hissed in primitive pleasure. "Darling, darling, you're gorgeous! So right, so perfect."
He lurched up, made her moan. "All yours," he leered. "Use me ... any way you want. Self-service on the first one. After that, ask the clerk if there's anything you don't see...."
Nova giggled, clenched her legs. "You devil, you zany devil...." She began to move her body, she leaned, she adjusted for maximum effect. "Oww...." she whined as she began to flex her legs, as she went after her own deliverance.
"Oww is right," he laughed. Like one of those Chinese puzzles ... Baby, you tear me up." His hands came up, his fingers twirled her nipples, made them swell and ache. "Nice?"
"Wonderful, wonderful," Nova gritted, adrift in a whirlpool of rapture, cut away from any modesty, any restraint whatsoever. Her deliverance was all that mattered, and if she had to take care of it herself, well-
Her body rippled and flowed, her muscles tensed and caught, the towers of fire rose higher inside her brain, higher, higher. She squeezed her eyes shut, her face became a mask of distorted agony. Then bliss.
As the colors became brighter, brighter. Small whimpers squeezed between her clenched teeth. And as Rondo continued to pluck and rile her nipples, as he sent pinched, vile encouragements up to her-
She worked more furiously, she squirmed and twisted.
Until finally-
She screamed muffledly, repeatedly, she wriggled as if she were on fire, she absorbed every last fragment of majestic sensation.
Almost simultaneously she was falling. Yet by employing some expert female gymnastics she was able to keep the man imprisoned there. So that when she was on her back, her legs twined behind him, he was poised for action. For that most sublime of female-male actions.
"You now," she gritted. "Oh, you! In that beautiful way you do."
The man chuckled arrogantly, his pride piqued to bursting, he fell heavily upon her. And sliding his hands beneath her, clenching her buttocks, using them for handles, he pulled her more tightly to him.
Almost immediately Nova felt the force, the sweet pain well up, blossom, threaten to suffocate her. She savored the way the man was handling her, the way he was in complete control of her movements, the way he ordained her mounting rapture. She felt weak, helpless, dependent.
She felt utterly female, suffused with an inexorable evil.
"Darling," she seethed, "my gorgeous darling. My man, my master ... my stallion!"
Del drove his body faster, possessively, he evoked apex upon apex of melting sensation. "Talk like that'll get you anywhere with me," he snickered. He moved faster, in precise, metronomic rhythm.
But there was no more time for talk. At least not so far as Nova was concerned. For once again she was in that so-familiar corridor of passion, she was running toward that golden light, she was squeezing and edging her way into that blazing, gilded room. She was screaming and gasping, she was sobbing with excruciating delight.
Nova knew she couldn't desert Rondo now, that she'd been on the wrong track with her fly-by-night affairs. One man-one perfect, experienced man, a man to learn with, grow with, a man she could trust-for as long as he'd have her.
She screamed again. She fled to that next anteroom, she opened that molten door wide, entered.
How many of those rooms she invaded that afternoon she would never remember. They were seemingly countless. Their love seemed to go on all afternoon. No sooner had Del achieved his initial victory than he moved on anew, was revived, fought and clawed for still another glory.
And Nova, helpless, totally in his power, followed wherever he led. Still those brilliant, blinding flashes of light exploded for her, still she ranged that rainbow-clogged hall, still she strained and reached, still she was curious about that next glowing door.
But she was so tired, so bone-weary. If this magnificent male brute didn't finish soon-
Finally Rondo was done. At least momentarily. They drank, rested, told each other how wonderful their love had been, they discussed their sensations. Not too much later-
Del took her again, brutally, ruthlessly. And this way was good too. Almost instantly she was transported to that corridor again, and she fled before her passion.
At 3:30 Del returned for a last time. This one seemed to last forever. It seemed she had been opening those doors for an eternity. Yet there was constant novelty, and Nova never once tired of the climb toward that next peak. Her sexuality was still strong, questing. Only her weak body-
Though she didn't want to, she fell asleep after that last love session; she sank into a deep, blissful torpor, dreamed the prettiest of dreams.
Del Rondo let her sleep. Carefully he slid from the bed, looked back to see if Nova had stirred. Then, sure of himself, he crept across the room. To where Nova's clothes were arranged on a chair. He lifted her expensive handbag, placed it atop the dresser. He opened it, began sorting through it.
For a long time the man investigated the bag's contents, he looked at the rings there, he opened the wallet, memorized names and addresses, studied the snapshots of Nova and Lloyd. His smile turned more opportunistic, more crafty by the moment.
CHAPTER FIVE
An almost miraculous turn of fate helped to grease further the skids of Nova's ensuing plunge to doom. As, Lloyd, that weekend, announced that his department was due for a complete revamping. The entire drafting department was to be redecorated, new equipment was to be installed. In the process the powers-that-be had decreed that the procedures, filing system, chain-of-command, down to the slightest detail-be updated, revised.
Lloyd Dixon, as department head, was going to be up to his ears in that changeover, it would mean endless nights of overtime. He was contrite, realized that this would leave Nova home alone, he hated to do it, but if it was his job-
Nova had had all she could do to keep from laughing in Lloyd's face. It was a perfect, God-sent answer to the delirium that had infected her ever since that afternoon at Del Rondo's apartment. They'd arranged a rendezvous for Tuesday evening. They were going to go out, drink and dance, and she'd intended to use a Community Club meeting as alibi. But now it was unnecessary. If anything she could tell him she'd gotten restless, decided to take in a late movie with Cammy. She was certain Cammy, would jump at the chance to get out of the house, flee to her lover's arms.
Even better, she thought in the days following Lloyd's emancipation proclamation, the weeks of overtime would give her a chance to get Del Rondo out of her system once and for all. Once she'd had her fill of him, once she'd broken herself of this lust infatuation (she was sure that was all it was, that sex was the only hinge on which their animal relationship pivoted) she could pick up the pieces, be a decent human being once more.
She even went so far as to hope that an all-stops-out affair with Del would permanently cure her, permit her to become a happy, constant wife to Lloyd once more.
Though she hated herself for the perverse joy she felt at Lloyd's overtime work-he had been so sweet, so considerate when he'd explained-she still excused herself. If this was the way she was, the way God had made her, a passionate, hot-blooded wench, what could she do about it? She was driven, weak, helpless.
And since Rondo had entered her life, she was even more so.
Just this little while, God. I'll reform, I'll change. I swear I will. Only give me this short time, this vacation from conscience-
All day Tuesday Nova moved in an anticipatory fever, she planned her costume, she modeled different lingerie ensembles, pondered over which would excite Del most, she experimented with make-up, wanted to be as breathtakingly alluring as possible. Thought of the out-of-the-way clubs they'd attend filled her with dread. For she knew that soon Del would wonder why they must be so furtive in their comings and goings. He'd already alluded to her life away from him, but she'd managed to change the subject.
But soon now-She hated to think of exposing herself to that danger.
It was a troubling thought, and dulled the building eagerness within her. For there was an unknown something about Rondo, a subtle reek of danger and mystery hung about him. Granted, the mystery made Del that much more attractive, but it provided, when they were apart, a very nettling curiosity.
He seemingly didn't have a restricting occupation. The one time she'd asked him point-blank what he did, he'd kissed her, smiled strangely, said he was a salesman.
"What do you sell?" she'd asked, momentarily reassured.
"Myself," he'd grinned, had distracted her with feverish kisses. Moments later he'd taken her in that exquisite way, had blanked out her mind. Mundane things such as occupational status were instantly forgotten.
Mystery or not, Nova decided now, choosing her sheerest hosiery, her most bewitching pumps, that she didn't care. He had one thing she wanted and she intended to avail herself of it, to gorge herself. And once sated, she'd flee, escape him forever. He'd never find her, he couldn't touch her again, she'd be beyond any power of his to hurt her.
She thought of that exquisite orgy of sensation in his bed the other afternoon. Instantly her doubts were routed. The red lingerie, she concluded. Even if he had seen it before. Maybe with the sheer, black panties, the specialty peek-a-boo items Lloyd had bought as a gag. And yet not so much gag. She held the ensemble against her nude body. If I were a man, she thought, feeling evil pangs in her loins, a getup like this would boil my brains.
Night was finally falling over Tucson as the cabbie dropped Nova a block from Del Rondo's apartment building. She was glad for the cool breeze, she knew her costume was especially enticing by the way the few male pedestrians turned to stare at her as she sauntered toward Del's place. The dress was just tight enough, it showed all her curves, the neckline was exaggeratedly low, let her breasts brim temptingly.
Talk about your sexed-up cases, she thought wonderingly.
Del was waiting in his car, a sporty blue Mustang, parked four cars deep in the apartment complex's lot. His eyes widened, he loosed a low whistle as she minced toward him, climbed in beside him. "Wow, baby, what vamp party are you dressed for?"
She fell against him, let him kiss her lightly.
"Careful," she warned, "you'll mess my make-up." Then she melted, decided the lipstick could be repaired. "You're the only party, honey. The only party that matters."
"Hey, kid," he chuckled. "Don't get me going already. We'll have to turn around, run right on up to bed. Our date'll never get off the ground."
"Fat chance," Nova forced, the excitement hitting her instantly as she weighed the proposal. "I'm tired of hiding away like some wetback. Tonight we swing."
The man regarded her carefully, didn't answer. Instead he put the car into gear, backed out of the lot. "There's a place out east of town, where they really ball. We'll start there."
He turned right at Socorro, put the Mustang to forty. When they hit Western he hung a left headed due east. Nova felt wonderful, she clung to his arm, hummed happily. Yet she sensed something was wrong, a strange restlessness possessed Del tonight. A few Scotches, she thought, and he'll be all right.
Minutes later they were on the fringes of Tucson, they were zipping past bars, drive-ins, business establishments of all kinds. The garish neon made a halo in the desert night; in the distance she saw the twinkling lights of the houses built up in the Saguaro Hills, and the sense of well-being gradually returned.
Unexpectedly Rondo veered off Western, shot up a side road Nova didn't recognize. She saw an oasis of light ahead in the otherwise shabby residential district. "Where're we going, Del?"
The liquor store loomed up, and he rammed the car into the deserted parking lot, backed so he was heading out. "I've gotta get some cigarettes," he said. Quickly he reached into the back seat, took a cloth-wrapped article, ducked out of the car. "Sit tight, hon." Leaving the engine running, he disappeared into the darkness.
Wonderingly Nova sat in the car, listening to the night sounds, the blaring music coming from a house across the street. Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture if she remembered correctly. The drums and cannons boomed thunderously.
A minute passed, then two. The Tchaikovsky built up to a tremendous climax, and Nova mused at the incongruity of the moment. Cannons and bells in the midst of the desert night. A shiver swept her.
Suddenly she straightened in her seat, wondered at the sharp report that had seemingly come from within the liquor store. She'd have sworn it was a gunshot. Then she relaxed, credited it to the hi-fi fan across the street.
A moment later a dark figure broke from the gloom, tugging at something on his face, carrying a floppy cloth bag in his other hand.
Then the door was ripped open, and Del heaved himself behind the wheel. In one continuous, fluid motion he slammed his cargo into the space between them, slotted the car into gear, burned rubber screeching out of the parking lot.
Then, as they returned to Western, retraced their trail, going away from the promised nightclub, Nova's head cleared, she finally realized what had happened. For there on the seat was the cloth bag, the ridiculous Holloween mask, the dark, deadly Colt .32. She heard die jingle of coins in the bag, the rustle of bills. Instantly she understood.
"Del ... you didn't ... I don't know what's going on...."
"That creep had to try to play hero at the last minute," he stormed as they careened into another dark street, headed toward Del's apartment. "I didn't want to kill him. You'd think he was being taken for fifty grand the way he fought." Rondo snorted cynically. "He's got a hole in his cigarettes now."
"No, Del, no...." Nova wailed. Then she fell back, was transfixed in place as she realized the enormity of the mistake she'd made this night, as she realized what this could mean in her life.
"I've got to go," Nova said pleadingly. "I can't stay here, Del. Not after this."
He barely looked up from the tangled mass of bills and change scattered all over the table. "Stay put Nova. You don't go nowhere. I'm gonna need you real bad when I get done here. Nerve tonic." The crafty, eerie grin grew. Nova attributed the strange smile to the fact that he'd just finished murdering a man.
"Sorry about this, kid," he muttered, still counting, "I didn't think I'd have to use the gun. I hate to get you involved, but that's the way the mop flops."
"But why, Del? Armed robbery ... I didn't think...."
"Why? Because I needed a little scratch, that's why. I've pulled this a dozen times. I pick up fifty, a hundred, enough for a good time ... nobody gets hurt.
But this damned character has to play Prince Valiant on me. Damn, damn...."
"But I thought you had a job. Salesman you said...."
He fixed Nova with a malevolent, irritated stare. "Sure I got a job. But not as a salesman, kid. It just happens I'm between capers at the moment, Amber hasn't called me in a few weeks."
"Amber? Who's he? I'm all mixed up, Del."
"Never mind. He's a guy I know. One of the Mafia boys around town. My connection. He gives me errands ... jobs to do. Suffice it to say the cops would just love to get their hands on me. Enough said?"
Nova's face collapsed. "Del, I never dreamed you...."
He exploded. "Never mind what you never dreamed! These are the cold facts, the way it is. Extortion, armed robbery, burglary, kidnapping, even murder." He touched the Colt automatic. "This gun for hire...."
Nova panicked, tried to break for the door again.
He grabbed her wrist, jerked her back cruelly. "I told you! You don't go anywhere. Until I tell you." His eyes narrowed. "You're an accomplice now, you know. You're in on this, all the way up to your pretty little neck."
"No, Del ... you wouldn't do this to me. I didn't know...."
"Wouldn't I? Don't kid yourself. You're gonna be daddy's little helper from now on. You'll do as I say, understand?"
"You're not serious, Del. You just want to scare me."
"That so? Try me and see."
"Oh, please, Del. You know I won't tell anyone. I swear."
"Drop it," he threatened. He pushed the money back. "Roughly two hundred bucks there. Damn little to chill a man for, though. The creep asked for it...." He rose, turned on Nova. "Let's go into the bedroom, baby. I need you bad all of a sudden.
"No, Del!" she quailed. "Not now. Not after this ... "
He advanced on her. Suddenly his hand lashed out, caught her explosively on the cheek. Nova went spinning backwards, a surprised shriek escaping her. Then Rondo caught her, he shoved and hauled her toward the bedroom. "The man's got needs," he grated. "Bad needs."
He slammed the light switch on. "Undress, you mink!" he snarled. "Right now. Before I rip the dress down the front. Be a shame, it's such a sexy number."
Nova froze, stood in dumb, disbelieving pose.
But when he wound his hand in the bodice of her gown, tugged it menacingly, she slumped. Mechanically her hands rose to the zipper at the dress's waist. She turned her back, began to strip.
"Turn around, dolly," he commanded. "I wanna watch."
Dully, Nova turned. She slowly peeled off the lovely cocktail dress, revealed herself in the inflaming red lingerie. Only it was ultimate mockery now. The slip came up, she stood before him in the glittering red brassiere, the black panties with the altered crotch, the red garter belt, the black stockings.
"Oh, lordy, honey," he taunted her, "the glad rags you do put on. You were really gonna steam the old king up tonight, weren't you?" He sat on the bed. "Come over here, baby. Give dad a close look."
She advanced woodenly, stood before him. Instantly his hands went to her thighs, they caressed there. "What a rig," he gloated, letting his hands probe, making Nova jerk. "You come on real mean, don't you? Where'd you get panties like that?" He stared straight into her eyes. "Did your precious Lloydie give them to you?"
Nova's heart jammed high into her throat, she recoiled, fell back as though Del had slapped her again. "Where...?" she said in a strangled gasp, " ... who?"
"You didn't think I knew about that did you, angel eyes? Well I do. You think all us guys are saps, we were all born yesterday? I looked into your purse the other day, I got the straight scoop. I've even been out to case that beautiful house of yours." He snickered. "How long did you really think you were gonna get away with that?"
He shook his head slowly, his tone scathing, "You broad. You dumb, dumb broad...."
She swayed, almost fell. "Please, Del," she pleaded, almost sobbing, "you won't...."
"I won't tell your beloved hubby? Of course I won't." His voice turned even more mocking. "I wouldn't dream of such a thing." Then he chuckled. "So long's you play ball with me, be a good little girl, do everything daddy tells you. And I mean everything!"
Again he drew her forward, he began squeezing her buttocks, sliding his hands on her slippery legs. :'Take off that pretty red bra," he ordered, his voice a perverted wheeze.
Dully Nova complied. And the full impact of her bondage coming down upon her, the grief and panic crushing, she peeled away the brassiere, exposed her creamy breasts. Inch by inch she brought them to his lips. Her stomach tipped, all previous affection now suddenly transformed to undying hatred and disgust. As his lips noisily closed on those tips, clamped hard. As his hands dug between her legs, basely abused her.
Rondo was satisfied with the surrender only briefly. His hands and legs beginning to tremble, he stared up at Nova, a wild, degenerate light in his eyes. "Something else now, baby," he gulped. "Something you never did for me yet. Something I been waiting for."
His hands dug into the backs of her thighs, they pulled her down, set her legs on fire. She stiffened rebelled. "What, Del? I don't know what you want ... Del...."
He snickered thickly. "You know what daddy wants, darling. You know damned well. On your knees, tramp."
Nova's head spun, it seemed she couldn't get her breath. Still his hands clasped, and she struggled, shrieked. "No, Del, no! Don't ask me to do that. I can't, I've never done...."
"Who's asking? I'm telling you. Del wants his this way now." He giggled. "Del insists...."
The pain intensified, and Nova screamed, caved in before it. She didn't want to-but she was too weak. A second later she was on her knees, Rondo's hand was twisted in her hair. "I can't, I can't!" she protested. "I don't know how. I've never...."
"Like hell you've never. Only with your sweet Lloydie. Don't con me. I know your kind too well. Hotter than a two-dollar pistol. When that time comes ... anything goes!" His voice became guttural. "For me, you'll do it for me now! You've got no choice, understand?"
The full impact of her helplessness hit her then, and it seemed that the light went out in her soul. Her eyes blurred. Pain, outrage convulsed her. Still she was helpless, too frail-she let him force her. She was surprised to find him waiting.
"Please, can't you at least turn out the lights?"
"Leave them on. I wanna watch. I wanna see how this goes."
And then, with a last mortified sob-
She began. She committed this thing out of fear. She did this thing to this animal, this thing she'd never done for any other man except Lloyd. And that had been for love. For love in its purest form.
She heard his thick, delighted chuckles coming from far away, she felt his legs jitter, she felt his hands pressure her. She endured as much of it as she could, she forced herself, eager to have this abomination over as quickly as possible.
And when he was finally satisfied, when he drew her up, flung her onto the bed, she pleaded anew: "My shoes ... my stockings ... aren't you going to undress me?"
He laughed in her face. "I told you before, kiddo. It's better that way sometimes. This is one of those times," He undressed quickly, came to her.
His attack this time was sheer animalism, ruthless and sadistic from start to finish. He plunged to her, he slammed and rocked her like a man gone amok.
Nova was amazed to discover, when it was finally all over, that she'd felt absolutely nothing.
Only pain. Only ultimate degradation.
And even while Del Rondo was further mocking Nova, preparing to use her body again, a bizarre charade of lust was taking place across the city. In the office of Mr. Lloyd Dixon, Director, Drafting Division, Red Arrow Machine Tools, Incorporated, no less.
It was 11:40. All the other overtime employees had been dismissed ten minutes ago. But Lloyd Dixon and his personal secretary, a tall, lissome redhead named Lonna Monath, were still there, ranging the offices, attending to last minute details.
Lloyd was at his desk, initialing the sheaf of schedules for the following day, when he saw the lights in the drawing room go out. Almost before the fact registered, he heard the door click, looked up to see Miss Monath, very flushed and distraught, sidling into his office. Closing the door behind her.
She stared at him feverishly. Then, without a word, she crossed the room, pulled the drapes over the second story window. "Lonna?" he said, dazedly, his mind still full of figures, "what is it? What are you doing?"
"I ... I'm closing the drapes, Lloyd," she murmured shakily, "so no one can see us." The Lonna and (Lloyd forms of address were a familiarity each allowed when no other employees were around. After all, Lonna had been his secretary for three years now, certain latitudes were in order.
"I don't understand, Lonna. What is there that shouldn't be seen?"
It was at that moment that the woman, lovely and refined of face, even though somewhat slatty, a creature of some 25 years of age, small-breasted, thin-hipped, advanced on his desk, crowded herself onto his lap, kissed him. "This," she breathed as she broke. "Nobody must ever see this." Again she lowered her parched lips, she held his head, kissed him with a long hunger, a hunger that had been pent up too long.
Lloyd recoiled, stared at her in disbelief. He was struck dumb at the frantic terror in those large doe-eyes, at the quick rasp of her breath, the visible, too-fast pulse in her forehead. "Lonna!" he gasped finally. "Do you know what you're doing? This is insane, absolutely...."
He fought her away from him, held her at bay with an outstretched arm. "Please, Lonna, get hold of yourself...."
"Maybe I don't want to get hold of myself. When I think ... all these years ... and I never let you know...." Her voice cracked. "I've wanted to tell you for so long ... almost from the very first day I came to work for you. You're a good man, Lloyd, a wonderful man. So kind and thoughtful ... you've always treated me so well...."
"Lonna, this is crazy. Stop now...."
Her eyes became glazed. "No, I won't stop." She shuddered as if struck by a monumental chill. "Lloyd, darling, I love you. I'll always love you. No other man will ever mean so much to me as you do. And while I realize you're married, while I can't help envying your wife every moment of my life ... I still can'! help wanting you."
He tried to get hold of her, to shake her, perhaps manage to rattle some sense into her, but she sidestepped him, held him away.
"I know nothing can ever come of this. But I want you, just once in my life. Right here ... on this rug if need be. That's all I ask. You'll be my only man, this one time will be enough. I'll remember it all the rest of my life." Her voice turned to a piteous whimper. "Please, Lloyd! Just this one time! No one will ever know!"
The intensity of her plea twisted Lloyd's heart terribly, made him want to howl his own frustration. Any other man, Lonna, he thought, and it could be. But not me, not half a man. His voice shattered, he uttered an incomprehensible truth: "You've picked the wrong man, Lonna. Find somebody else."
"No! I don't want anybody else, I want you. Is that so much to ask? Just this once, darling? Can't you see me at all? As a woman? As a living, breathing, passionate woman? Won't you give me that gift, that recognition? Surely you can't be that proud and narrow. You're not a selfish man, Lloyd. Who knows that better than I do?"
"I can't, Lonna," he choked. "I tell you, I can't."
"Maybe this will help," she intoned hollowly, stepping back slightly. "Maybe this will help change your mind." And with that she began unbuttoning the front of her over-dressy satin office dress, she revealed the pastel blue slip she wore beneath it.
"No, please, Lonna. Stop this now. This is impossible."
"Nothing's impossible to a woman in love," she breathed. "She'd risk any danger, any shame...." The dress slid to the floor, puddled at her feet. Lonna kicked it aside. Now her hands brought up the slip, tore it away. She wore no girdle, no stockings, a pair of gleaming kid flats graced her feet. Her skimpy brassiere was a matching pastel blue, as were her panties, a lace encrusted garment, sheer at the vertex of her body.
A second later the brassiere came away, slid down her arms. Her breasts were small, yet firm, the nipples double-capped, looked like polished leather. Despite his incapacity Lloyd felt those feeble stirrings, pathetic remnant of his manhood. He actually lusted after this woman, he was wild to give himself to her, gratify her over-fantasied desire. But there was nothing-absolutely nothing-to give.
But how was he to tell this supercharged wanton that?
"I'm not beautiful," Lonna intoned, looking at him squarely, wearing only those enchanting panties, "I'm not beautiful and voluptuous like your wife. But I'm clean, I love you. I'm a virgin ... no man has ever touched me, no man ever will." She came toward him., the pleading in her eyes heartbreaking. "I beg you, darling, take me. Right here. On the floor, on your desk ... anywhere." She began to sob. "I want you, want you...."
She stopped, tried to force sultriness into her eyes.
"You want to take ... these ... off? My panties? I want you to. Please, darling."
He tried to sidestep her, to get past her. But she clung to his arm, fell to her knees before him. Now she wrapped her arms around his legs, sobbed and pressed herself to him. "Please, please, please...." she babbled.
"I can't!" he groaned. "Can't you understand that? I can't!"
But Lonna wouldn't be denied. Impulsively she rose on her knees, began to fumble with his trousers, she fought to touch, to capture his manhood. She was sure no man could resist an overture like that.
It was then that Lloyd, completely beside himself, panicked, struck out blindly at her, slapped her across the back of her head, sent her spinning backward in stunned surprise. "I can't!" he howled one last time. "I'm sorry, Lonna...." Then he was hurtling out the door, groping his way down the darkened corridor.
The woman's wracking sobs, her incoherent curses echoed through that deserted labyrinth, were to echo in Lloyd Dixon's brain, haunt him the rest of his days.
Nova was just emerging from the shower when Lloyd burst into the house, came directly to the bedroom. She was frozen into terrified immobility when she saw the desperate, agonized expression on his face. "Darling, my precious darling," he moaned brokenly, and fell on his knees before her, clung to her legs. Just as Lonna had clung to his legs minutes before.
"Lloyd," Nova quaked, her own misery instantly forgotten. "What is it?"
"I love you," he choked. "I love you, you're all I have left to love. If I should lose you...."
Abruptly he leaped up, went to the door, killed the lights in the bedroom. Rapidly he undressed, came to Nova. He threw her backwards on the bed. And awed, unable to protest, she surrendered to his eerie fury.
Kneeling on the floor before her, he crowded his head to her belly, he began to kiss her. Confused, almost hysterical, he had to perform his travesty of the love act or perish, lose every last shard of masculine ego he still possessed.
Again Nova felt almost nothing. Until, at the end when Lloyd became very savage, when he began to sob as though his heart would break, her own wall of despair melted, she knew the benediction of this counterfeit release.
She didn't understand what was wrong with Lloyd, probably she never would. For now, this was sufficient. He wanted her, he wanted to love her. She loved him so dearly.
Beyond that, what else was there, what else did they have?
She stroked his back gently, helped him as best she could. "Darling," she breathed softly, "my sweet darling."
CHAPTER SIX
Needless to say, Nova moved on an even more despairing trance during the days following. The fact that Del Rondo had at last revealed his true, brutal nature was, in itself, torture and degradation enough. But the perpetual fear that at any moment the police would pounce upon her, announce that Rondo had made a miscue, that he'd blown the whistle on her.
But all her fears were futile. For Rondo had made no mistakes, there wasn't a single lead that pointed toward him. Nobody had heard the pistol report that night, nobody had seen anyone enter or flee the liquor store. Indeed, Rondo had already been gone ten minutes before they had found the dead body behind the counter.
At any rate, so the accounts in the Arizona Star, The Citizen had read. Nova had quakingly followed the story of the murder, had daily approached the opening of her newspaper with terror, constantly expecting the worst. But no, the robbery-murder had been expertly executed, the crime, obviously, would go into the Unsolved book at police headquarters.
Another unsettling development in Nova's life was the strange way Lloyd had been acting lately. He was bitter and withdrawn, he seemed unnecessarily upset over the fact that one of his secretaries had suddenly quit without notice. But at night, as they went to bed, that same clinging dependency was back, he insisted on making love to her in his crippled way. Which Nova, concerned, permitted, all the time feeling shame, tragic unworthiness. That this good, kind man should have to accept an unmitigated tramp as his love object.
She attributed the change in her husband to the continuing overtime, to the fact that he was often overtired. Many of those nights-returning from legitimate missions, driven to female society if only to forget for a few hours-she found him home before her, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Those times she crept to bed silently, looked down on him, her heart swelling with poignant love, she kissed him lightly, sadly.
And tossed and turned for hours, her mind alive with thought of Rondo, of the way he'd plundered her body, her very soul. She thought of the impenetrable maze into which she'd so foolishly rushed.
Today she sat in her backyard on a lounge chair, daring the hot desert sun, thinking to get some color back into her face and body. And as she endured that searing heat she wondered what had happened to Del Rondo, why, with the perfect weapon he now had at his disposal, he hadn't called her since that night.
The craziest of hopes kept recurring. The fantasy in which she imagined that Rondo had tired of her, that he'd abandoned her, had perhaps fled Tucson; even Arizona. At times it seemed that the hope was all that kept her going.
The thought was going through her heat-stultified mind at this moment. But in that intuition females are so proud of, she knew that any moment, today, tomorrow, Del would call, he would force her to-
She stared vengefully at the extension phone resting on the table beside her chair, defied it to ring.
Then was startled, nearly jumped out of her skin when it did. Trembling, she picked it up. "Yes?" she said.
"Nova, honey," Rondo's cocky voice said, "how's your good behavior? Long time no see and all that jazz. How about tonight? Can you manage?"
Lloyd would be working at the plant. "I suppose." Loathing crept into her tone. "If I have to."
"You have to," he said coldly. "Doll up, baby. We're going to a party tonight, meet some important people. I want you to look like high-society."
She was instantly wary. "Del ... you know that if I run into anyone who knows Lloyd...."
"Nothing like that. Perfectly safe. No sweat."
"I remember the last time you were going to take me out to a ... party...."
"Forget it, Nova. This's on the up and up. You'll have a ball."
"Del? Has anything ... happened. About the other night?"
"What could happen? I've pulled dozens of capers like that. I never miss. Quit worrying." He paused. "Glad rags, huh? Take a cab to my place. Nine bells. Same arrangement."
A second later, without waiting for her to answer, Rondo had confidently hung up.
And Nova sighed ponderously, her body, even in the hot sun, was swept with goose pimples. Then she rose, entered the house to begin primping for the upcoming party.
"Where is this place?" Nova inquired edgily after they'd left Tucson behind them, had driven for perhaps ten more minutes on the winding Tanque Verde Road. The houses in this area were ranches, perched on the slopes of high hills. Here and there were small, elite communities of five or six homes, all of them in the $75,000-$l00,000 class, each self-sustaining in its own right. In the darkness she saw the eerie phalanxes of cactus watching from the desert wastes on each side of the road. Once their headlights captured the fleeting blur of a surprised wildcat.
Nova shuddered. "People really live out here?"
"Keep your shirt on, doll," Rondo snapped. "We're almost there." His hands slid on her silk clad knees. "You're gonna like this place. Real class."
Then, as if to test his mastery over her, he deliberately lifted her skirt, laid it back on her thighs, revealed the white flesh of her legs above her stockings.
"Careful," Nova said, tensing, making no move to stop him, "you'll wrinkle my dress. If you want me to look nice...."
"You'll look plenty nice. For those slobs...." Now his hand dug between her legs, forced them open. Seconds later he was tweaking and stroking her.
By way of defense strategy, Nova affected brassiness. "You'd better watch out. Unless you want to pull off the road, take care of things right now." The thought was vastly repugnant to her.
"Gettin' there, huh? Hot stuff. No, not now. That'll wait. Until later. But in the meantime, I just thought I'd keep things warmed up."
The animal continued to play, to ply Nova with any number of vile suggestions during the remaining three miles of their tortuous, climbing safari.
The house to which he brought her was every bit as extravagant as its advance billings. Its owner obviously had money coming out his ears. Isolated, concealed from the road by a stand of mountain pines, a rambling structure of grandiose proportions, it had cost at least $100,000. There were concrete stilts jut-tings from the mountain, abstract curves which supported half the house, and there were vast expanses of glass which provided its owner a fantastic view of Tucson, of the surrounding Sabino Canyon terrain.
The interior was equally impressive. The living room was a vast, sunken arena. A pool with trickling falls took up one corner, and tropical vegetation flourished in enchanting backdrop. A desert-stone fireplace took up the remainder of that wall area. The living room well fell away at the windows, providing a breathtaking view. In the distance Tucson twinkled like a million busy fireflies.
The furnishings were modern, had easily cost another $25,000, and the decor was impeccable. Modern abstract paintings, lay in balanced pattern across one whole wall. Nova was instantly convinced that the man who owned this was artistic, creative, a person of cultured tastes.
Thus she was greatly disappointed, thrown into confusion as she regarded the two men who greeted them, one the Negro who'd admitted them (dressed in a white butler's jacket, dark slacks) the other a loudmouthed kid, a blonde boy of perhaps twenty (wearing skintight chino slacks, a loud sportsshirt) who sat with his feet carelessly placed atop an exquisite free-form, glass coffee table.
Party? her mind boggled. Where were the others? What kind of trap had she fallen into this time?
The Negro regarded her with veiled eyes, his expression definitely antagonistic. While the pretty-boy kid stared at her hungrily, immediately commencing to undress her mentally. He pursed his lips, produced a breathy, low whistle.
Neither of the men spoke. Nor did Del, he seemingly enjoying Nova's consternation. She turned to him, panic in her eyes. "Del...?"
The Negro, abruptly abandoning his menial's role, slouched against a grand piano, insolently said, "Boss's up in his office. Making some phone calls. Something's in the wind."
And though he affected a drawl, Nova couldn't help but wonder if it was all so much show, concession to what he thought white men expected of him. Even as she stared at the 40-year-old man, found herself unsettled by his bland impassivity, by the smooth, dusky handsomeness of his face, by his blocky, stevedore build. Now the Negro further implemented his slob role, took a candy bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, deliberately, almost obscenely stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. Slowly, sensuously, his eyes partially closing, he began to chew.
Del snickered. "Don't mind him," he said, taking Nova's elbow, leading her further into the room, "he pigs like that all the time. I'd hate to have to pay his candy bill." He drew Nova toward him. "Baby, this is Karo. Karo Brown. I guess you can figure why we call him Karo."
"How do you do, Karo," Nova forced uncertainly.
The Negro never stopped chewing. No smile of greeting. He only nodded, gravely, slowly.
Then Del was turning her, pushing her at the smirking boy. "This's Nick Casetta. Protege of the boss's. Thinks he's gonna take over the whole syndicate someday."
Nick made a dirty sign to Del with his finger. Del ignored the affront, smiled. "This's Nova, kid."
"Nova?" Nick sneered. "Nova who?"
"Just Nova. That's all you need to know."
The lad shrugged. "Quite a hunk of woman." He sighed admiringly. "I don't know how you always manage to come up with stacked broads like that, Del."
"Because I'm a man, sonny. Dames go for men, not for runty kids."
The dirty sign again. "We'll see about that in due time. I'll get my ups with her yet, wait and see."
Rondo's grip tightened on Nova's arm. "Over my dead body, kiddo. You stick with your thirteen-year-old jailbait. They don't know the difference between a man and a kid."
Nick Casetta bristled, was just struggling up to come at Rondo, when a soft, dry voice from behind them cut the air. And Nova wheeled to see the man standing on the winding staircase leading upstairs. "How many times, Nickie," he hissed, "must I warn you about putting your dirty feet all over the furniture? I swear I'm going to turn Karo loose on you one of these days."
There was a soft click, and the deadly switchblade appeared in Nick's hand as if by magic. Indolently he waved it. "He'd better not try. I'll skin him, use his black hide for upholstery."
Karo snuffled softly, not one bit cowed.
But Nova saw little of the exchange. She was too busy studying the thin, gray-haired man, struck suddenly with small awe at his aristocratic carriage and manner, at his costume, all brought off with the aplomb of a Spanish Don. His face was gaunt, yet quietly handsome, his nose was aquiline, his mouth stern, his eyes a penetrating, steely blue. He wore white slacks, a dark blue blazer, a pale blue sport shirt, the throat open. A black, silk ascot scarf graced his neck. Every article of clothing was impeccably tailored, contributed to the impression of quiet power that rode his shoulders like an invisible mantle.
"Both of you animals," he snapped, "stop that bickering. You sound like feeding time at the zoo."
The edge in his voice silenced both of them instantly. He turned to Nova. She quailed before his intense stare. She wondered at the change he affected in Rondo. The cocksure man was almost cowering. "Boss ... Amber ... this is Nova." He pulled her forward. "Nova ... Mr. Lombardi. Amber Lombardi."
Involuntarily she bobbed. "Pleased, Mr. Lombardi." The confusion ballooned within her.
"Nova, Nova...." he sighed. "Such a lovely, unique name. So you're the woman Del's been telling us about."
Nova flushed to imagine just what sort of things Del might have told them about her, about their relationship.
Lombardi came down the steps, walked around Nova slowly, eyeing her from every angle. "Beautiful, beautiful," he breathed. "The very answer to our prayers. You're even more acceptable than Del said."
Acceptable? Nova fretted. What in heaven's name was he talking about? Party, Del had promised. "I don't understand," she stammered. "Del said something about a party."
Lombardi's smile became sly. "Yes ... party. We'll get to that in due time. But first...." He took her arm gently, led her into the room. "Sit down. There are certain things we have to discuss."
Nova settled into a chair, tried to regain her equilibrium. This was all coming entirely too fast for her.
"Karo," the man snapped, "fix Nova a drink. What will you have, my dear?" His grin was mocking. "Oh yes, I remember. Vodka. You have a problem with your husband, it's best if he doesn't suspect ... "
The bull-chested Negro went to the end of the room, began mixing drinks behind the elaborate bar.
And Nova felt she'd been slapped. The man knew about Lloyd! Del had blabbed everything. Her brain spun. What was this all about anyway?
Lombardi stood beside Nova, took her hand, softly began stroking it. "Perhaps you're a little too beautiful for our pruposes. But you'll do, my dear. I understand you're willing to cooperate in our little ... venture. Del has told you about it, hasn't he?"
Rondo shook his head. "She'd damned well better be ready to cooperate," he snorted.
"He didn't tell me anything," Nova whispered.
"It's just as well," Lombardi said. "I can fill you in very quickly. There's this little package ... it's in Mexico. Only we'd like to have it here. You, Nova, are going to go to Mexico, you will bring that package here."
Karo approached then, a tray full of glasses. He doled them out expertly. Nova sucked at her vodka avidly, shuddered at the raw bite. Shortly she was glad for the intoxicating drink. As Lombardi gripped her knee, began slowly, confidently, to stroke it. A second later his hand had crept beneath her skirt, was pressing her thigh. If the others saw the extorted liberty they made no outward sign.
Nova began to tremble. And yet, frightened and puzzled as she was, she made no move to stop him.
"Twenty pounds of uncut heroin...." The words hung on the air, lashed Nova's brain. "Worth almost three million dollars on today's market. We've been working on this delivery for months now. The vital link is almost ready to close. In two weeks, my dear...."
Now Nova's head truly spun, she drank the rest of her drink down almost nonstop. Immediately Karo, ever watchful, brought her a refill.
Nova sat in stunned silence while the rest of the ugly plan was unreeled. The shipment of heroin was even now working its way to Agua Prieta, a sleepy Mexican village and tourist trap on the opposite side of the border, immediately adjacent to Douglas, Arizona. It was up to Amber Lombardi to arrange for its movement across that border. The risk, as well as major part of the profit was to be his.
The details spun out: the rented apartment in Douglas; the establishment of a pattern with the border guards; Nova's transportation of her daytime housekeeper into Douglas; the manner in which the dope would be secreted-all coming too fast to be properly assimilated by Nova. No-her bruited brain cried. I can't, I haven't come to this-I must be dreaming-
"No, no...." she came awake to hear herself chanting rebelliously. "I can't. Please, don't ask me to do this. Haven't you hurt me, used me enough?"
Lombardi's voice took edge again. "Del," he menaced, "I thought you had this woman all primed, up against the wall...."
"I have," Rondo sneered. He came to Nova, grabbed her hair, wrenched her head back. "Listen, baby, no hysterics. You're gonna do this, understand? Or else I'm going to get in touch with your precious Lloydie, tell him what kind of a broad he's married to. I'm gonna sink you good."
"You won't! If you do I'll go to the police, tell them you were the one who killed that man in the liquor store."
"Shut up!" Del lashed. "Before you get a throatful of teeth."
Rage consumed Lombardi. "You damned idiot!" he spat. "Were you involved in that heist? Of all the stupid stunts. You want to jeopardize everything, just when we're so close to the jackpot? You jerk!"
"Let me handle this," Rondo said, jerking Nova's hair harder. "You try anything like that you're gonna end up out in the desert, under a cactus. But before you go, Nick here'll play with you, carve you up with that switchblade. You're gonna do it, understand! No ifs and buts...."
Karo was back with fresh drinks. He stared direct-at Nova. Now it seemed there was pity in his eyes. Rondo slowly released his hold on Nova. She sighed, shuddered, fell back into the davenport.
"Here," Karo said, handing her a fresh glass, "drink this. You'll feel better."
Lost in an incomprehensible nightmare. Nova gripped the glass, drank steadily, sought a soothing forgetfulness. Already the vodka was closing in. If she drank more, if she drank faster-
"Enough of this," Lombardi said finally, sitting erect. "I'm sure you and Nova can straighten out your differences," he said to Rondo. "You know the plan, you can fill her in later. The first of the week should see you in Agua Prieta. No later."
He partially rose, a smug smile on his lips. "But for now ... some diversion. We shouldn't disappoint Nova." His hand closed on her head, he tilted her face up. "She is pretty, Del. Much prettier than you told us. I was thinking ... maybe Nick and Karo ... But she's too good to waste on them. She's even too good for you."
His smile became sly. "How would you like to go to bed with me, dear? Just the sight of your lush body stirs this old man up. I'm sure he's got one left around here someplace." He smiled softly. "How does that strike you?"
Nova recoiled, tried to fight. "No! Oh, please, no! Del, you wouldn't ... just pass me from hand to hand. Del!"
His smile was cynical. "Wouldn't I? Don't bet on it."
Lombardi became impatient. "Stand up, Nova. I want a better look at you."
When she refused to move, Lombardi said, "Del...."
Instantly Rondo hauled her to her feet. "You do as Amber says, hear? Move, damn you!"
Nova stood before the man, her shoulders slumped, her eyes downcast. Shudders possessed her suddenly, her legs felt like limp spaghetti. "Undress, my dear," Lombardi hissed. "Show us that lovely body of yours."
She came alert. "Here? Just like that? With all of you watching?"
Lombardi sneered. "Well, we might draw the drapes. He signalled. "Karo...."
"I can't," Nova choked. "I just can't...."
"Damn you," Rondo advanced on her. "You can. Unless you want your head slapped off! Strip, the man said!"
The terror burgeoned, weakened her. Then a monumental apathy came down. What's the use? she thought. I haven't got a chance-they'll only make me-they'll take what they want anyway-
Woodenly, her fingers came up, began pulling the zippers on her green silk dress. Listlessly she let it slide down her body. She drew up the pastel green slip, revealed the matching brassiere, panties. The black garter belt beneath was plainly visible. The smoke-toned stockings, the green silk pumps, were sexy, aroused the men instantly.
"Wow," Nick crowed, "get a load of that frame. The headlights on that doll. Man, I could really go for two dollars' worth right now. Those legs, those pointed boobs...."
"Shut up, stupid," Lombardi snapped. "My treat." The sight of the trembling, helpless woman inflamed him more than he cared to admit. "Exquisite," he muttered. "Tres rajfine. I'm going to enjoy you immensely."
He waved his hand imperiously. "The rest, Nova. Reveal the basic woman, please."
Suddenly the degradation became too great; things piled up altogether too fast. And Nova sank into a catatonic state, she couldn't force her hands to do her will. "I can't," she sobbed brokenly, "I just can't."
Again Lombardi summoned Karo. He seemed to derive great pleasure from making the Negro hop. "Karo, will you help the lady please?"
"No!" Nova writhed, fought him as he approached her, "don't you touch me. Damn you! Leave me alone."
The man caught her hands, held her until she went slack again. "Bend, baby," he whispered as he undid her alluring brassiere, "bend with the wind. That way you'll still be around when all the big trees get blown over. Make it easy on yourself...."
Somehow Nova garnered comfort from his strange, philosophical words, she sensed Karo was as much a victim as she was. She stood in mute passivity as the man peeled away the brassiere, slid her panties off her hips, crouched to untangle them from her shoes.
"What a picture," Lombardi seethed. "The black and the white. Beauty and the beast."
Karo mumbled angrily under his voice at that.
Then Nova was naked, she wore only her hosiery and shoes, the wicked black garter belt. Nick Casetta made agonized show of holding himself. "My aching back! "he choked lecherously "that body ... Please, Amber. Let me have seconds...."
"Some other night," Lombardi snickered. "Tonight she's all mine. Turn around, my dear. Let's see you from all angles. There, freeze. Bend a little." His voice snagged. "You have exquisite buttocks, Nova. I'll enjoy you."
The posing session went on. He made Nova hold her breasts, showcase them in her own hands, he made her twist and display herself in all sorts of ridiculous poses.
And finally, when it seemed she couldn't stand the degradation a minute longer: "Karo. If you'll show Nova up to my room...."
Like a mindless robot, she followed the Negro upstairs, she entered the sumptuous bedroom. At the last he whispered, "Give in, child. He's gonna get what he wants in the end anyway. You're in a mess. No gettin' out of it nohow."
Then the door was closing behind her. Dully, all fight gone now, Nova kicked off her shoes, finished undressing. She was prone, totally naked on the bed when Amber Lombardi finally entered, fresh drinks on a tray for both of them. "My dear," he hissed, "What a vision you are."
Nova drank greedily as the man undressed. Though she didn't want to look at him, still she couldn't control her curiosity. And when she saw his too-white body, the feeble extent of his arousal-This is going to be awful, she thought, simply awful. How can I-
She drank faster, prayed for the vodka to render her senseless. So she wouldn't remember afterwards.
Lombardi muted the lights via a dimmer switch. He mocked Nova's plea for total darkness by saying, "Of course not, darling. It's not every day I have such a lovely woman at my disposal. I don't want to miss a single, precious moment." He went to the bed, rolled onto his back.
Nova's head spun. "Is that ... the way you want me? On top?"
"No, silly girl," he snuffled. "As you can see, I'm not the man I once was. I'll need a little stimulation. I think you know what I mean. Del's told us how good you are at that particular phase of the love act ... "
Nova flushed to the roots of her hair, writhed on the bed. "Oh, no! He didn't! The beast, that animal!" She tried to pull away. "Don't ask me to do that. I beg you ... No, no...."
"I'm not asking, Nova," he menaced, tightening his grip on her arm, surprisingly strong for so frail-appearing a man, "I'm commanding you." Then he wrenched her arm viciously, forcing her to turn on the bed.
Nova recalled Karo's words, numbly acceded to them. Surrender, she thought, get this vilification over with. It's for the best. If I anger him, he takes me anyway. Then he turns those others loose on me-
Abruptly she became calm, she leaned to the man, she began the ugly subservience. She closed her eyes, her soul, her very heart. And the man's body lurched on the bed, he writhed and whined. His hands slid and caught on her buttocks, handled her outrageously.
Finally he was man enough to see the sex act through. But even here there was abnormality to come, there was a fetish position to assume. And when Nova's face was in the pillow-
Still he hovered over her, stroking and pinching, letting his hands do foul things to her. Then at last, a sibilent moan breaking from him, he went between her legs, he crowded close.
Seconds later he slammed himself to her with an aberrated giggle, took her in what must be his favorite way. Instantly his body pounded her, rocked the bed, his hands went under her, gathered and pressured her breasts. His body moved faster, more brutally.
And though Nova received little or no sensation from the variant position-still she moaned and panted into her pillow, shammed a transporting passion.
Please this beast, she adjured herself, make him think he's magnificent, a real man. Please him I Don't let him get angry, don't let him turn those other animals loose on you. Please, please-
Now the man began to squeal like a stuck pig.
All the way, Nova thought, her despair a suffocating thing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On that following Tuesday at mid-morning, reconciled to her fate, suffering a damnable helplessness, Nova let Del Rondo drive her to Douglas, Arizona, a city of some 12,000 souls, located about 125 miles southeast of Tucson.
She had lived in a dull trance since that night at the Lombardi mansion. She had seemingly become a mindless puppet on a string, which Lombardi pulled with fiendish glee. The only thing that kept her from caving in was the hope that once this caper was completed-and successfully at that-she'd be free of their ugly hold, she'd be free to return to a life she'd once thought unexciting and mundane.
She'd made an elaborate alibi to Lloyd, had fabricated a story of a fictitious Community Club outing in Coronado State Park, a picnic and field trip that wouldn't bring her home until after seven that night. Lloyd, poor, gullible dear that he was, had encouraged her, had said, "It'll be a wonderful day for you, darling. You need to get out in the sun. You've been looking pale lately."
Pale, indeed, she thought now. And her heart suddenly ached intolerably at thought of the time when Lloyd would accidentally find out the truth about his pure, constant wife. And wouldn't she do virtually anything to keep that truth from him? Hadn't she proved that already in countless, vile ways?
Lombardi had provided a huge, '64 Cadillac for the trip to Douglas. A luxurious, air conditioned behemoth, it seemingly skimmed along the highway. Del Rondo held it to a steady 90, he passed practically everything on the nearly-deserted Highway 80. Nova wore sunglasses against the blinding glare of the August sunlight, but she still squinted.
"Nogales" Del muttered now, filling her in on details that had gone clean overhead that night in the Sabino Canyon house, "that's where we should be going. It's only sixty-six miles. But the Feds been thicker'n hell around there lately. That's why Agua Prieta. It's a sleepy little burg, they don't watch so close."
Again he repeated the plan: In Douglas an apartment was already rented, a beat-up '58 Plymouth stood in the parking space at its back, a jalopy registered to a Mrs. George Malson. There were forged identification papers, driver's license, birth certificate and other sundry items to make her role as a harried Douglas housewife that much more convincing.
They'd arrive in Douglas at noon. Nova would have time to scout the apartment, get used to the car. They'd rehearsed her story once more. She was going to Agua Prieta to pick up one Rosalita Jimenez. Who was, under U.S. immigration laws, permitted to cross the border during daylight hours, work as a domestic servant, so long as a U.S. citizen made himself responsible for transport and return. Rosalita Jimenez, her husband up to his neck in smuggling, would merely kill time at the Douglas apartment, would be hauled back to Mexico at five that afternoon. After which Del and Nova would high-tail it back to Tucson.
This would be repeated on Thursday, then Tuesday and Thursday of next week, to establish a routine so far as the border guards were concerned. On Tuesday of the following week-no suspicions aroused in the meantime-the heroin would be secreted on Nova's person, the delivery would take place.
And they'd be two, three million dollars richer.
"And how am I supposed to get away all those days?" Nova sniped at Rondo. "Without Lloyd wondering?"
Rondo laughed in her face. "That's your worry, sweetie. Make up some more pretty stories."
"That's easier said than done."
"You know what they say in Russia. Scramble, honey." Idly he brought his hand over, began to fondle Nova's bare legs. "Smooth, baby. Did you shave just for me?"
"That'll be the day." She brushed his hand away. "Is that all you think about? Sex and more sex?"
"Name something better. After all, it's been a few days. How was it with old Amber? Was he man enough to hold up his end of things."
"Just barely." Nova's stomach tilted. "Knock it off, will you?"
"Tell me about it, honey. I'll bet he was the greatest."
"What is there to tell? After you shot off your mouth to him. The others too, I imagine." Loathing curdled her voice. "God, you don't stop at anything, do you?"
Rondo laughed thickly, his mouth drawn into a filthy grimace. "Hell, just thinking about you, all the cute stunts you pull, makes me want to pull off the road, take one right now. You game, angel-face?"
"Drop dead. I thought we had a schedule."
"Yeah, I suppose." His expression grew sly. "But there are substitutes, I guess." He turned on her. "How about unbuttoning that, blouse, opening your bra, letting daddy play a little?"
"You bum. The answer is no."
"Is it?" he menaced. "Maybe I'll have to get rough."
"You leave any marks on me you'll queer the whole thing. Then maybe Amber'll get rough."
Viciously he pinched one of Nova's nipples. "I can hurt you where I don't leave no marks. Except for Lloydie to see. You want that?" His grip tightened, he made Nova shriek. "We play, honey?"
In the end she was forced to cave in before him. And shame dulling her eyes, she opened her blouse, undid her brassiere. "Here, you sewer filth."
"Don't make me mad, Nova. I get mean. You know what I'm like then. I'm letting you off easy today."
Keeping his eyes on the road, he caressed and squeezed her breasts, toyed with her nipples. In spite of herself Nova felt sexual yearnings grow within her. She cursed herself, tried to assassinate desire. "This's awkward, baby," he snapped finally. "Lay down. Put you head on my knee. On your back...."
"No," she hissed.
"Yes." His hand tightened on her nipple, made her shriek anew. "On your back."
Nova groaned, quit fighting. But inwardly, she seethed. Then she arranged herself on the seat, tolerated his hand on her breasts.
But even this wasn't enough. And wanting to exercise his power over her all the more, he shortly tugged at her skirt, brought it up around her belly. And finally: "Take off your panties, dolly. I want the real thing now."
"No!" she jerked. "Isn't enough, enough? If you have to treat me like this, can't you wait until we can get someplace? Not in a car...."
"I said take off your panties." Again his hand became cruel. Nova groaned in outraged despair. Then she squirmed, raised her legs, peeled off her pants. Now his hand roiled her nude belly.
"Your hubby ever do this for you?" he goaded. "This is almost as good as the real thing. If a guy knows his way around. Ain't it so?"
Nova sighed, thrashed helplessly, refused to answer.
"I've always wondered about you and Lloyd," he said, not letting up on the vile attention. "What made you decide to cheat on him? He broke or something? He wasn't man enough to take care of you?" Rondo chuckled. "Lord knows it'd take one helluva man to take care of you."
Nova started, was amazed that he'd hit on her reasons so quickly. But then, after all, why do most women roam? Still, she wouldn't defile Lloyd's image by admitting as much. "It's none of your damned business."
He pinched her in a very sensitive spot. "Tell me."
"He ... he was fooling around with another woman," she gasped. "I was going to get even with him."
"You sure did, didn't you? If you'd been a good girl, think of all the trouble you'd have saved yourself."
Nova was involuntarily squirming now, helpless before the aboriginal sensations Del was igniting within her. But when she tried to pull him away-the maddening torture again. She became more wild by the second.
"Please, Del," she begged, "stop now. No more...."
"Gettin' that way, huh, baby?" He giggled. "Maybe Del don't wanna stop. Maybe he wants to take you all the way."
She squirmed, tried to escape. But he wouldn't let her go. He worked more skillfully, more determinedly.
Now Nova protested no more. Sibilant gasps broke from her throat nonstop.
Finally she whimpered, screamed brokenly.
Rondo chuckled, removed his hand.
Nova sobbed.
Rondo laughed all the harder. The Cadillac skimmed effortlessly along the heat-shimmering highway.
Nova's heart thudded wildly as she drove the battered, green Plymouth toward the border crossing. Leaving Douglas behind her, it was only a matter of a half mile or so across barren desert country until she saw the twin columns, the U. S. CUSTOMS sign on a steel arch across the highway. A steel fence divided incoming and outgoing automobiles, two khaki-uniformed rangers worked each side of the highway, halted cars, inspected or waved them through.
Nova fought to feign calmness as she came to a slow stop before one of the stalls. A beefy, choleric specimen, looking extremely bored with his job, sauntered toward her. Nervously Nova brought forth the alien-employment permit, shoved it toward the man. "This is my first time over," she smiled radiantly, "is it safe over there? I'm going to pick up this woman to help me with my house cleaning...."
"No trouble at all, Mrs. Malson. Go right ahead."
And though Nova knew the directions by heart she said, "Could you tell me where I could find Avenida Nuevo?" She read the man's name tag. "Mr. Barclay?"
He flushed at the use of his name. "First turn on your left, Mrs. Malson. Only don't expect anything fancy." He chuckled, waved her on.
Nova drove the car slowly into Agua Prieta, was surprised at how small and quaint a town it was. The main street was asphalted, there were modern curbs and gutters, the buildings lining the street were clean and neat. They were made for the most part of adobe though there were some wood and cinder block structures. Nova noticed restaurants, cantinas, grocery stores, dry-goods stores. Of course, every block sported at least two liquor shops.
Nova was so fascinated with the novelty of being in a foreign land for the first time in her life that she almost forgot her deadly mission. Even the staggering, dry heat didn't bother her overly much. She took in the groups of men who sat on benches, crowded the curbs outside the cantinas, the more venturesome calling after her, "Two-bits, por favor, pretty ladee ... A dreenk, we need a dreenk. Two-bits...."
She smiled indulgently, drove on, realized too late she'd missed her turn. But no matter, the main street petered out shortly, turned into a small square about which larger, more prosperous cantinas and nightclubs were lined. She wondered at the difference between these and the ones in the town's main section. The square was somnolent and deserted. At one swinging half door, she saw two Mexican girls standing in saucy pose, and had sudden suspicions about this section of town. Was this the notorious "Boy's Town" Del had laughingly mentioned?
She swung down the main drag again, mused to herself how much like cardboard boxes-square and gaudily painted-the business places lining the street looked. She grinned at another clot of loafers, Americans and Mexicans alike, and went back up the street. A small boy, black-haired, his flashing eyes resembling dark marbles, darted between some parked cars, nearly got hit, sent back a stream of angry Spanish at her.
She found the neatly lettered sign: Avenida Nuevo She swerved right, and was shocked by the sudden transition as the blacktop gave way to a dirt road of the most rutted, dusty, rock-littered description. Instantly she braked, dropped to five miles per hour, her eyes darting left and right, her dismay inconcealable. It was as if she'd just left the modern world and stumbled into the dark ages.
The hovels lining the street defied belief. Most of them looked like piles of boards crudely thrown together. The yards were pure sand and dirt, they were littered with garbage and junk of every kind. In the midst of this squalor, tiny babies, most of them stark naked, crawled or ran. And she wondered: In this day and age-?
There were a few more prosperous homes, cinder block and adobe again, with signs announcing tailoring, sewing, baths and barbering. The more pretentious of these better structures sported lawyer and doctor shingles. Nova was struck by the realization that in Agua Prieta there was no middle ground; you were either wealthy or dirt-poor. And dirt was a necessary adjective.
Abruptly she caught herself, remembered she wasn't on a sociological survey; she had grim business to attend to. In her rubberneck surprise she'd missed the Jimenez place. And when the axle-breaking road wandered out into the desert, and disappeared, she backtracked again.
Then she saw the number 45 in black, runny paint, and pulled the car to a halt. A skinny, mustached man in dark-blue trousers, a dirty, white undershirt came to the door, and regarded her in cold suspicion. Without saying a word, he leaned into the dark, one room shack-no screens, no glass in the two windows-called in Spanish.
Shortly, a small, dumpy female, her hair long and braided, wearing a clean, plaid, cotton dress and huaraches, emerged, approached the car. Sticking her head in the window, she grinned, exposed rotted teeth. "Senora Malson?" she asked. "Yo soy Rosalita Jimenez." She ventured her Spanish-kissed English. "I em Rosalita Jimenez."
I'll at ease, Nova opened the door, let the woman in. Rosalita slammed the door, kept her distance, never said another word to Nova. Obviously she had her instructions down letter-perfect. Pulling away from the hovel, Nova wondered what pitiful pittance this exploited couple would receive for their part in Lom-bardi's grand scheme? Them that has, gets, she acidly concluded.
Nova had her permit ready as she approached the gate, and was just stopping, when the agent named Barclay yelled across the lane: "Let her go, Bill. She's okay."
Bill grinned broadly, waved her through. Nova made a point to send a winning, grateful smile at each of the agents. They'd damned well remember her come Thursday.
Then she was picking up speed, re-entering Douglas.
Even with the decrepit air conditioner going full blast, it was still stifling in the four-room layout. The Mexican slavey didn't seem to notice. When Rondo "already high on beer and whiskey" turned on the TV for her, gave her a pile of magazines to page through, Rosalita beamed, understood. In a final good-will gesture he gave her a pint of cheap red wine.
"That'll set her for the afternoon," he said. "Not too much. But just enough to keep her from getting antsy." He pushed Nova toward the bedroom. "What say we go into the bedroom, kill some time at America's favorite indoor sport? Too damn hot for clothes today anyhow."
Nova cringed, knew instant revulsion. "Again?" she protested. "Wasn't that filth this morning enough for you?"
"Enough for me?" he laughed. "As I recall it was you who got the charge." His grip became cruel. "I still got mine comin'. C'mon."
Nova knew better than to resist. It was only another payment to be made for her horrendous mistake. Get it over with, she capitulated. Besides, it was too hot for clothes. She reluctantly let him lead her. At the last moment he turned, leered crookedly at Rosalita, tried his fractured Spanish. "Usted, Rosalita," he commanded. "No oyez nada. Comprende?"
She grinned saucily, knowing full well what would transpire behind that closed door. "Comprendo, senor."
"What'd you tell her?" Nova said.
"I told her not to listen."
"Why didn't you tell her not to watch too? She'll have her ears out on strings."
"So? Maybe we'll bring a little joy into her blighted life. C'mon, doll. Outta those clothes."
Tiredly, feeling no shame, no anger, only a vast indifference and resignation, Nova began undressing.
Rondo was finished before she was, and waited for her on the bed, his aroused masculinity boldly displayed. "Quite something huh?" he sniggered. "That set things to boiling, honey?"
"Hardly," she snapped.
"Give me time. I grow on ya, doll."
"Let's hope not." She stared sourly at him. "Well? You name it. You can come up with some real uglies."
He smirked. "Like I said, it's a hot day. Maybe you'd better take care of things for me. You know, like female dominant?"
Nova shrugged. And determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, she crawled over him, saw to sheathing him all by herself. But after a few minutes of listless performance Rondo saw they were getting absolutely nowhere. It was then that he shoved her off, got out of bed.
Then, pulling her to the edge, scrambling between her legs, he grabbed her behind the knees, half lifted her. Then, only her shoulders and arms balancing on the mattress, he moved himself to her, chuckled at Nova's quick moan of pain. His face a mash of domineering sadism, he jerked his body vengefully.
Nova merely endured it, felt little or nothing at all, wondered that the bestial thing he'd done that morning could have extorted that ugly climax from her. While this-the real thing-
Rondo was determined. Even Nova's lack of ardor failed to dampen his lust. His arms tightened, his body slammed more swiftly. Agonized cries grew in his throat. Then, as the full fury of his deliverance was upon him, he purposely howled, (for Rosalita's benefit), "Aiee, mujert Aiee! Que dolor!
Out in the living room Rosalita giggled, and Nova felt even more mean and vilified.
Then Del was lifting her from the bed. With one hand he swept odd artifacts off the top of the three-drawer dresser against the other wall; with the other he forced Nova onto her back atop it. Again, miraculously revived, he came to her. And still standing, violated her body anew.
"Variety," he gritted, plunging to her cruelly, "is ... the ... spice ... of ... life."
Nova felt nothing. Save pain. Save the heart wounds of this supreme degradation. A toy, something to be used, something to help pass a draggy afternoon. She heard Rosalita chuckle again.
It was nadir, absolute bottom. She could fall no further. Or so Nova thought.
She caught one hand in a drawer pull, balanced herself. She cursed the way her sweaty back clung to the dresser's varnished surface.
Damn, she raged, doesn't this animal ever get tired?
She wished it were time to take Rosalita back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was Wednesday night of the second week. Tomorrow she and Rondo would return to Agua Prieta for the last of their staged crossings. And then next Tuesday they-
Nova sat alone in the living room, a small glass of sherry at her elbow, her mind racing ahead to that showdown, her heart pounding savagely at mere thought of it. What if something goes wrong? What if they stop us this time, search us?
Even Rondo's snide comments about the border guards having to do some plain and fancy digging if they were too uncover the heroin, didn't reassure her. After all, if necessary, they could always hold her and Rosalita, summon a matron for a more intimate search. ft had been decided that the shipment of heroin would be split into two parcels, that the plastic bags would be transported inside the women's panties. The patrol would have to be damned nosy to discover this intimate cache.
Nova trembled, fought to dispel her fears. It was silly after all. In just the three crossings she'd got on first name basis with Tom Barclay and Bill Lemke. She was Helen to them, there was always time for a few words of flirty banter, they invariably interceded for her when other agents were on duty. Those few times she'd been stopped, the guard had barely glanced inside the car. Not once had she been asked to open the trunk. So far as she was concerned she could have carried the heroin in plain view on the seat beside her.
"Anything to declare?" the occasional eager-beaver asked.
"Only Rosalita," Nova would laugh. And that was that.
Still the fear was omnipresent. Nova often envisioned herself in prison gray.
There had, of course, been more sweaty interludes in that apartment on Beaumont Street in Douglas, she'd been forced to accommodate Del Rondo in countless vile ways. Yesterday had been a good day; Nova prided herself on the fact that she'd given Rondo absolutely nothing, that she'd been able to shut her mind completely to his animal attentions. She'd exulted at his frustrated complaints, as his early surrender. She'd had almost the whole afternoon to read. While Del had grumblingly drunk himself into a near stupor. As it had turned out she'd driven the Cadillac almost all the way back to Tucson.
She sipped her wine, thought of Lloyd. The upheaval at the plant still went on, he was gone four nights out of five. Things were leveling off, however, and soon her reign of convenience would end. The excuses for the Douglas excursions had become extemporaneous, flimsy. Sometimes she didn't even tell Lloyd she was going to be gone, hoping to be home before he returned, otherwise pleading a shopping trip, a "girl" session with Camille Ashley.
Preoccupied with his career, he seemingly paid little mind to her absences, felt she had the outings coming.
The TV irritated her tonight, and abruptly she rose, clicked it off. It was as she turned away from the set that the phone rang.
"Nova," the oily voice said, "Amber Lombardi here. How long will Lloyd be away?"
Caught off guard, forgetting to alibi, she blurted, "Until midnight or after, I imagine."
"Good. I want to see you tonight, my dear. I'll send Karo in after you."
Instantly dread rocked her. She knew what it was Lombardi wanted, she was simply too soul-ravaged to stomach those depravities tonight. "No, Mr. Lombardi. Please, not tonight. I'm not feeling very well."
"Amber," he insisted, ignoring her protests. "Surely we don't stand on formalities. Not after the bliss we shared together the other night." His voice grew threatening. "Karo will be by in half an hour." Tersely he told her where Karo would pick her up.
And Nova sat in confused frustration, wanted to sob. Times like this she thought she couldn't go on. She became panicky, thought to run to Lloyd, tell him all. Other times she even thought to go to the police, volunteer to betray the dope-smuggling ring.
Thought of those alternatives left her cold with fear. And now, as always, indecisive and weak, she stifled her despair, rose, prepared to keep her appointment. She moved woodenly toward her bedroom.
She called Lloyd at the plant just before she left the house. "Darling, I'm restless. I'm going out to take in a movie I called Cammy, she said she'll go along. If I'm not back when you get home, don't wait up."
His voice was testy, and for the first time he challenged her. "Seems you've been going out an awful lot lately. Kinda makes a guy wonder...."
She feigned affront. "Why, Lloyd, such a thing to say! After all, with you gone all these nights, what am I supposed to do? I'll go batty sitting here looking at these four walls. But if you'd rather I'd stay home...."
He was instantly contrite. "No, darling. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I've been working too hard, I guess. You go ahead. God knows I couldn't blame you if you took on a lover. I've been no company lately. And with a shoddy excuse for a man like me...." His voice broke. "You go ahead, dolly, have fun."
"Lloyd, Lloyd," she hurried to reassure him. "If that's what you're thinking ... I will stay home. It's not anything like that at all." She pumped conviction into her lying act. "I don't need any other men. You're all the man I want, you keep me perfectly satisfied and happy. Lloyd, you know how that hurts me when you talk like that...."
Which was more than mere words. It did hurt. Lloyd's kindness, gentleness at a time like this, when she was setting out to cheat on him, was cutting, ironic to a bitter degree. "Lloyd-I love you-I don't want to hurt you-
The conversation was brief. Nova would go to her movie, Lloyd would be home at 12:30. Everything was smoothed over. The way was clear for her satanic rendezvous. And less than five minutes later-
She saw the looming, black Cadillac parked on Jefferson Drive. Nobody knowing her in this alien neighborhood, she boldly approached it, jerked open the door, climbed in back. Instantly the car glided into the night.
After about ten minutes she spoke to the brooding Karo. "What does Amber ... Mr. Lombardi want with me?"
His voice was parody of an indolent drawl. "Your guess is as good as mine, Miss Nova. What does he always want? To make people crawl, mostly." He fell silent momentarily. "I expect that's the white folks' way. Take what you want outta the other fellow's hide, no matter how much meat you take with it."
Nova said nothing more all the way to the Sabino Canyon retreat. She cowered in her seat, tried to freeze her mind.
It was after ten when Karo let her into the house. She wondered at the fact that it seemed subdued tonight, seemingly deserted. Only side lights burned in the hallways, the lamps in the living room had been dimmed to firefly glow.
"Karo? Where is everybody?"
"Nickie's out. Gone someplace with one of those chippies of his. Mr. Lombardi's most likely in his bedroom. You should go right up, I expect."
Nova froze, felt sickeningly cheap. No interlude, no civilities. Just like a $25 call girl. Go up, strip, get down to business. And for this I became unfaithful to my beloved Lloyd? Her eyes glazed, she stumbled on the first step. Karo came behind her, helped her up.
"I expect you know the way," he said, his eyes locking in hers. Again Nova couldn't tell whether his expression was contemptuous or pitying.
She jerked her arm away. "I expect I do," she snapped, mocking him.
She rapped softly at Lombardi's voice, heard his soft, "Come," tremblingly let herself in.
Instantly the man came toward her, took her into his arms, buried his lips in her throat. There was that eternal fascination, and his hands slid quickly down her back, began to fondle and lift her buttocks. He used them for handles, jammed her tummy tight to his, ground himself to her.
"So good of you to come, angel," he smiled upon releasing her. "Sorry to call on such short notice. But nature ... you know. You look exquisite, Nova. Even more lovely than I remember you from last time." Again he embraced her, gripped her fanny, pushed his body, shuddered feverishly.
"How greedy I'm being," he said when he broke this time. "Practically crawling all over you like some gauche schoolboy. Come, I've got some drinks ready...."
A long, low table was pulled close to the bed. Upon it sat several bottles, glasses, ice cubes, bar equipment. "I assumed you'd be drinking vodka. Sit here, please." A glass was handed her, Nova instantly wondered at this change in the man-from imperious to obsequious. His attentions were almost fawning, servile.
Even sm she drank he moved behind her, fussed with her hair, gingerly slid his fingers to the nape of her neck, caressed her bare shoulders. "Lovely, lovely...." he sighed. "You are a lovely little mink...."
Lombardi drank martinis. He sat beside her on the squat hassock, drank and fondled her alternately. Confused at the conflicting mood, Nova finished her first drink too quickly, felt the liquor hit hard. When it was gone-
"No," he said as she reached for the refill. "Let's wait a bit." He went behind her. "First let's get comfortable, shall we?" And with that he whipped off his red, silk robe, revealed himself naked beneath. There was one concession to modesty however. This the small, leather strap that wound about his waist, supported a black, shiny pouch that concealed him.
"With your permission." Now he leaned, ran the zipper down the back of Nova's gown. It was one with a built-in brassiere, and as he lowered it, her breasts hung free, she felt the nipples pucker instantly.
"Will you stand?" he slurred. Nova, dazed at the rapidity with which things were progressing, dazedly rose, allowed him to work the dress down her body. "You'll forgive me, won't you, dearest," he grinned, a too-bright light in his eyes, "I enjoy taking care of things now and then ... Variation adds spice...."
He crouched before her, slavishly eased her pumps off her feet, undid her stockings, peeled them down her legs. Now the black panties were coming down, th, garter belt followed. "Lovely, Nova, lovely."
Then, she totally naked, he nearly so, they sat in that dimly lit room, and the man chatted disarmingly, stared at her nakedness hungrily. Nova, self-conscious, continually sipped at her drink. But after a time the embarrassment faded, she thought nothing of sitting with him like this. Resignedly she thought, It takes all kinds.
Now as he came to her, began kissing her feverishly again, as his hands roved her body unashamedly, as he lavishly flattered and adored, Nova was further mystified. She drank all the faster.
Then, at last, when it seemed the man had turned to a ball of nerves, when his hands skittered wildly, he rose, looked down on her. "Come with me, baby. I must get you ready now. I'd like to bathe you if I may."
"But ... I just had a shower."
"No matter. Let me, Nova. Humor an old man...."
A giggle bubbled in her throat. Why not? she thought. There are worse things. "Another drink?" she said.
"Of course, my dear. Stand right there." Lombardi detoured, checked to see the door was locked. Then he brought her drink. "This way, Nova ... Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. Tonight I just want to love you, love you...."
A shudder kinked her spine as he once more gripped her buttocks, guided her forward.
The bathroom was fabulous, even more beautiful than she'd remembered it from her previous visit, a mad designer's dream come true. Large, tiled, decorated with modern fixtures, the faucets, handles gold-plated, the furnishings extravagant. But Nova had little time to appraise her body in the vast eight-by-eight mirror that took up one wall, for almost immediately Lombardi ran her bath, he lowered her into the circular, sunken tub.
The bubble foam swirled up, she gave a little sigh of delight as he poured perfume into the foam. Now he knelt before her, leaned, saw to her bath himself. He hummed with joy, smiled strangely, lathered and scrubbed her everywhere. He made a lengthy ritual of shampooing her in a very erogenous zone, he insisted she turn over so he could do a better job on her back. And places further south. Again there was that almost fetishist attention to her posterior. "Lovely, lovely," he sighed almost without stop. "You have an utterly exquisite body."
Finally he was content that she was clean enough. He brought her from the tub, made a slavey scene of toweling her dry, at the end kneeling before her, lingering at her legs, buttocks, belly. His fingers fluttered again, Nova giggled coyly.
Now he began to daub perfume on her body. On her neck, breasts, tummy. Even between her legs.
Crazy, Nova thought giddily. Way out. What a nut. And seemingly she was ready, eager even, to lend herself to any kink-tainted variations the man might suggest.
They were in the bedroom again. She blinked as the lights became gradually brighter. She saw Lombardi at the switch, his smile smug and anxious. Then he took Nova's hand, led her to the vast panoply of wardrobe doors. He stopped before one, slowly opened it. "Look at these pretties, darling," he hissed.
Nova's mouth fell open, her heart stopped as the automatic light came on. Her eyes staring, disbeliving, she saw the dozen pull-bins full of female lingerie of all sizes, colors and description. And on the lower level, the dozens of pairs of glittering, high-heeled shoes-provocative, witchy items all-of every conceivable size, style and color.
But before she could completely assimilate this fetishist treasure trove, Lombardi was pawing through one of the bins, bringing out a heavy silk brassiere, a girdle, both garments midnight black. "These should fit you, darling." He pushed them into her hands. The sheer, black stockings came next. Last of all he sorted among the shoes, brought out a pair of dull red calfskin pumps, the heels narrow and high, the toes, incongruously, in the outdated chisel point.
"You'll be a vision in these," he said. Slowly he guided Nova toward that spacious bed. Bewilderedly she let herself be lowered upon the satin coverlet, she wonderingly let him dress her in the black lingerie.
Lombardi seemingly lapsing into an even deeper, more erotic trance, he said, "Let Amber take care of you, baby. He loves doing this for you."
Nova wanted to giggle at the ridiculous garments. But her awe took priority, and she silently, dazedly soffered his attentions. The brassiere was attached first, proved to be a stiff, half-cupped thing, merely granted support for her breasts, left the nipples, the upper half of each breast temptingly exposed.
The girdle was even sillier, a combination pantie and cincher, with garters attached. But most ridiculous was the fact that while it was firm and supporting in the front and hips, it was deliberately butchered, so that her buttocks hung out, were entirely exposed in the back. But not quite hanging out, for the garment had stiff elastic around that bizarre opening, elastic which squeezed her buttocks, held them in prominent display, jammed her cheeks together, endowed the strangest of sensations.
"Amber," she quailed, "what...?"
"Never mind, baby," he seethed, "don't let it bother you. It's something I enjoy. Indulge me, be good to me." He pushed Nova back on the bed, took a long time smoothing on her stockings, snapping them to her garters. He lovingly placed the red slippers on her feet.
Then he helped her up, took her toward the bank of mirrors occupying one section of his wardrobe doors. Nova, constricted in back as she was, minced awkwardly across the room. The extremely high heels almost threw her off balance.
"Look," Lombardi hissed, posing her before the mirror, "isn't that something? Aren't you lovely in this costume?" His voice became phlegmy. With shuddery hands he gathered her buttocks, posed her body this way and that before the mirror. He brought up his hands, played with her breasts, avidly watched his reflection in the glass. Then he restlessly turned her, exposed her buttocks, he watched over her shoulder as his hands slid and cupped those pert mounds.
Shortly he tired of the ritual, brought Nova to the room's center. Woozy, inflamed by these aberrated attentions, Nova couldn't help but feel a stinging desire. The things this man did to her!
"Exquisite," he chanted, "darling, you're exquisite. Stand right there." He went to the bed. Just before he sat he whipped away the leather cod-piece, revealed himself in proud arousal. "Now," he called. "Pose, darling. Show me that gorgeous body...."
For a long time Nova stood before him, twirled and pirouetted, assumed exotic poses, her very compliance further arousing her. She stood astraddle, arms akimbo, she arched, she held her breasts up for him. But mostly she stood with her back to him, displayed her rear, she bent and undulated her hips, caused her buttocks to wink and roll at him.
Catching glimpses of herself in the mirror, seeing the unearthy black silk costume against her creamy flesh, seeing the black hose, the fetching red shoes, the blondeness of her hair, she was strangely weakened, she melted inside.
Finally Lombardi had enough of the fashion show. "Here, darling," he called. "Come to Amber now. Let him touch you. The real you."
Nova drifted to him, leaned to him, let her breasts hang like ripe heavy melons, let him pincer her nipples with his fingers, let him gather them to his torturing lips and tongue. This attachment effected, his hands again wandered to her legs, slid upwards to her pooched-out behind. Nova sighed, wriggled in delight.
Moments later they were sprawled on the bed, the man was caressing her, kissing her, torturing her. His tongue wandered up and down her body. Her nipples, her belly, her thighs.
But only briefly. For now, in a spate of impatience, he turned her onto her tummy, he adoringly stroked her back, her legs, her shoulders. But always his hands returned to that central lodestone: The pert prominences of her buttocks. She sighed and squirmed at the tickling sensation, thought she'd go wild if he didn't stop soon.
Lombardi didn't stop. Instead he crouched over her, let his mouth flow back and forth on the backs of her legs, on her thighs. Then in the small of her back. And finally-that fetishist Valhalla.
His hands slid, clutched, caressed, skittered. Now, breathing hard, his head came down, his mouth began to roller-coaster on those vibrant, velvety hills. Up and down, back and forth, round and round. Then his tongue flicked out, tickled the pebbled playground.
"Oh, stop," Nova shrieked, "stop now, I can't stand much more." She fought, tried to pull free.
But his hands turned cruel, he held her immobile. While his mouth and tongue continued to torture, to madden. Nova whined and panted piteously, she sounded like a suffering animal.
At long last the torturing instrument was lifted, she was released. "Get undressed," he rasped. "There, in the middle of the room, where I can see you ... "
Nova didn't have to be told twice. Eagerly, a hungry animal prowling in her vitals, she fled to the open space, began ripping the lingerie away.
"Now," he rasped when she was naked, "over here. On the bed." Nova darted, literally flung herself upon the bed, crowded herself to him.
"You little vixen," he gloated. "I'm still man enough to get to a woman, after all, aren't I?" His hands dug at her thighs.
The old lust, primal and snarling, lust the like of which she hadn't known since Del Rondo had turned on her that night after the murder, came back full force. It rendered her conscienceless, utterly amoral. "Yes," she choked. "Oh, God, yes."
Lombardi chuckled lewdly, complied with a will. Instantly his scrawny body began to flow atop hers. And after Del, a so much heavier, Neanderthal man-She felt like she was floating, like she was emancipated, a free spirit. She erupted beneath him like the most dissolute of wantons.
"More, more...." she intoned. Almost instantly she was returned to that long corridor, she was racing toward that golden light. And when she reached it, shrieked her first glory, Lombardi chuckled.
This part of the sex act was, seemingly, anti-climactic to Lombardi. The true satisfaction had already been experienced. His body slid swiftly, mechanically. His sighs of growing delight were dry, sibilant. Nova had opened only one more golden door, when it happened.
With a shudder, a shattery sigh, Lombardi died atop her, gave no thought whatsoever to the fact that he'd left Nova hanging. And when she continued squirming, fought to reach that final apex of sensation, he roughly shrugged her loose, pulled away from her as if she were contaminated.
Nova quailed before the insane hatred that shone in his eyes. "Amber what...?" she sighed.
It was as if the man had awakened from a trance, remembered the weak, degenerate things he'd committed with this female. He'd befouled himself, crawled before this tainted harlot. And it was her fault; she'd lured him, driven him to those perverted, self betrayals.
"Tramp!" he rasped. ""Out of this bed! This very instant!"
Nova darted up as if she'd been slapped, stood four feet from him, stared with terrified eyes. Lombardi leaned, pushed a button in the bed's headboard. Moments later there was a soft tapping at the door. "Mr. Lombardi," Karo's voice came. "You ring?"
"Open the door, animal," Lombardi seethed.
Nova shrunk. "Like this? Without my clothes?"
"Open the door!" he roared.
Terror stricken, she ran, unlocked the door, flung it open, felt inordinate shame as the Negro glanced at her, surprise in his eyes, then looked past her, a veil instantly growing across them. "Mr. Lombardi?" he said.
"Take her out of here," Lombardi lashed, "take her to your quarters, boy," he put heavy emphasis on the demeaning term, "do what you want with her."
"Sir?"
"You heard me! Take that tramp to bed, give her a good going over."
"But, Mr. Lombardi ... if I don't happen to want her?"
"You do as you're told, Karo!" he bellowed. "That's an order. Unless you want some damned bad medicine." There was a secret threat in his tone, one which the Negro understood immediately. Their eyes locked, the hatred in each igniting a fireball in mid-center of the room. "You rack her good, hear? Punish her like she's never been punished before. Understand, boy?" Again he seemed to enjoy taunting the Negro.
"Yes, sir," Karo said. "C'mon, you!" Nova shrieked, fought. But the Negro, seemingly terrified of Lombardi, stood no guff, dragged her bodily down the hall.
"I don't wanna do this," he said when they were in his smaller, less elaborately furnished room, "understand that. But I have to. He'll crucify me if I don't. I didn't ask you to get yourself into this mess. You did it all by your lonesome. That man's mad. And I mean real mad...."
With one indolent shove he flung Nova onto the bed. "No, no...." she shrieked, "please, please, I can't ... I couldn't stand it! I ... "
The heavy, craggily handsome Negro stared at her, bitter contempt on his face. "What'sa matter, Miss Nova? You don't believe in integration? Neither do I. Not this kind of integration anyway. I don't even wanna be your brother, much less your brother-in-law."
"Please, Karo...."
"Don't be skeered. It won't be bad as all that." Now his trousers fell, he stood in just his white undershorts. Then they slid down his legs. "Hell, honey, you been reading too many of those horny books, you been believing all those folk myths about us pore niggers." He was mocking her now; only Nova was too terrified to recognize that fact.
"Look, baby," he goaded. "Take a look at this pore black boy. Look, I say!" Nova forced her eyes up, gasped at the forbidden beauty of that dark, beautifully muscled body. "There," he went on. "No diffrent, see? Just like a white man. Tar brush's the only difference. No bigger, see? Nothing different.
Nova terrifiedly collapsed, buried her face in the pillow. She heard him click the light switch, opened her eyes to opaque darkness. Her body tensed, she prepared to fight, claw when he came to her. The bed sagged, she felt nim come toward her. She hissed, slashed at him.
He gripped her hands, held them, firmly yet gently. "I told you before, Miss Nova," he said regretfully, "bend. When you come to something you have to do ... like I have to do this ... Well, it's best to do it and get it over with. If Lombardi says we get together...." one hand slid on her legs, pried them " ... then we get together."
He moved over her, crowded between her legs. Again with gentleness, his voice soft, he soothed her.
"See, Miss Nova, it's not like in the books. I'm not gonna rip no woman up. Not with what I got. That's not so bad is it?"
"No, don't ... No, no...."
Still as the blocky, hard man came to her, as he filled her, began the motions of love, the repugnance faded. He was skillful, instinctively graceful, he moved with precise, mind-unhinging rhythm. And gradually, ever so gradually-
She forgot who she was, who this was making this beautiful love to her. She found herself flowering, yearning toward him. She wondered how such a thing could be.
"Easy, girl," he sighed compassionately, "easy. Just a little bit more...."
Nova was on the verge of trusting completely, she was just about to answer his thrusts with her own body letting him know she understood, that they should both understand these tragic circumstances. But abruptly the emotion was gone, her body was frozen, stiff, cold as ice.
As the door swung open, the lights glared to life.
And Lombardi, flanked by Nick Casetta, stood there.
"Go to it, Karo," Lombardi sneered, "give her what for. Don't that get you, Nick?"
"Wow!" the boy choked. "Look at them two go."
"Don't stop, boy," Lombardi commanded when Karo faltered. "Be my guest. She's good, ain't she? White women are the best, aren't they?"
"Yes, sir," Karo fell back into his Uncle Tom lingo. "She good, she the very best."
"Ain't that a picture?" Lombardi snickered. "Chocolate and vanilla."
Nick Casetta giggled obscenely.
Nova wanted to die, she wished she could die on the spot.
CHAPTER NINE
Nova Dlxon left Tucson at 4:00 on that Monday afternoon in late August. But she didn't leave alone. Del Rondo, Nick Casetta, and Karo Brown were in the gleaming black Cadillas with her. Tuesday was D-Day, and upon Lombardi's orders, they were going to stay overnight at the Douglas apartment, be ready for any unexpected slip-ups the next day. If Nova and Rosalita, by some twist of fate, were unable to bring the shipment of heroin over, then the men would have to be on hand to take over.
Their backs were to the wall; the heroin must come over tomorrow or else.
Nova had racked her brain ever since Friday, when Amber Lombardi had announced the change in plans. She had finally convinced Lloyd that she and Cammy Ashley would be spending Monday night in Phoenix as representatives of the Tucson Civic Improvement League. A one-day convention, she'd told him; they'd be home by seven or so Tuesday evening. Again Lloyd had smiled, had let himself be gulled.
And now, at 8:30 that night, the jumpy quartet having gone to dinner at a two-by-four restaurant three blocks away, they sat in the cramped apartment, wondered what they'd do to kill time between now and tomorrow noon.
The sleepy, copper-refinery town offered little by way of diversion. The movies were all second-run, the night clubs too tame for Rondo and Casetta's tastes. The endless night yawned before them and they became more edgy by the moment.
Nova was the most keyed-up of the quartet by far. For she knew beyond shadow of a doubt, who would be butt of their boredom once it became unbearable. Thus she was even more wild than they for diversion.
It was Rondo who suggested the Agua Prieta excursion. "Hell, why not?" he said. "I'm goin' crazy sitting here."
Nick Casetta sent Nova a sly smile. "Well, there's always Nova here. I guess I'm the only one ain't had a crack at her so far."
"She'll keep," Rondo sneered. "We'll get to her later."
"You guys don't want to do nothing to queer the plan," Karo stated softly from across the room. "Lornbardi'll have your hides stretched on a board if you mess up. Maybe it's best we sit tight."
"To hell with Lombardi," Rondo snapped. "What's the sweat? We go over, have some drinks, take in some of those Mex dolls, get back early. If we play things cool-We're tourists, goin' over for a night on the town. Good neighbor policy."
Karo was stubborn. "Suppose one of those guards recognized Nova? What then?"
"They won't notice. They switch shifts at night." He drew out his wallet. "I've got some papers here say that I'm George Malson. She'll have to introduce her hubby, spoil those jerks' happy dreams." He became more agitated. "I say there's no risk involved."
"Sounds great to me," Casetta said. "I've never been over. Who knows? I might even dig things Spanish. Might never want to come back."
"We're runnin' low on booze," Rondo added. "A gallon of good stuff costs ten, twelve bucks over there. Free entry. We should restock."
In the end Rondo prevailed. At exactly 9:04, the black Caddy lumbered across the border, entered Agua Prieta. There was no problem at all at the checkpoint, the guards were used to tourists seeking nightlife Mexican-style, they waved them through with a broad smile. Nova was glad to see that the men were totally unfamiliar to her. She relaxed somewhat.
But instantly went tense again at thought of what awaited her upon their return to the Douglas apartment.
The shops were all still open, the liquor stores doing a land-office business. A sleazy ribbon of white light bulbs was strung across the main street by way of decoration. Night made the town look tawdry and shabby, and the men and boys scuttling up and down the streets all seemed engaged in some illicit, furtive mission.
She, Karo and Nick waited in the car while Del went into one of the stores, bought a gallon each of the more reputable Mexican-made whiskey and vodka, a quart of imported Scotch, all the liquor ridiculously cheap in comparison to American prices. It was as they waited that Nova noticed the sudden abundance of young, pretty girls on the streets, in clusters on the corners, sauntering, flirting with the men, yelling at the passing cars. These were the town's corps of prostitutes, now out in full dress parade.
Her despair deepened.
Rondo returning, they proceeded slowly to the end of the main street, where, Del promised, a real treat awaited. "Boy's Town," he smirked. "The red-light district."
"It all looks like red-light district to me," Nova said acidly.
"Don't be a wet blanket, Nova," he menaced lightly "Be good, or we'll find a man, rent you out for the night."
"Hey," Nick called, "get a load of those two ... "
Rondo slowed the car as they entered the brightly lit square at the end of the main drag, passing close to two dusky beauties, neither of them older than fifteen. Pretty creatures, in black, silver-ribboned skirts, vivid purple blouses, scooped low in front. True hustlers who waved and hooted at the three men.
Nick whistled, leaned out the window. At which one of the child prostitutes lifted her full skirts high in back, waggled her buttocks at him, revealed herself totally naked beneath.
"Wahoo!" Nick shouted. "If that's any indication, this's gonna be one helluva wild night?" With that he shot the car into an open spot before a neon-blazing club called Chico's. Instantly a dozen urchins, aged ten to fifteen, gathered around the Cadillac, screamed, "Watch your car, meester! Watch your car! Good service!"
The foursome slowly unloaded, and Rondo gave a half dollar to one of the biggest, meanest looking of the boys. "And I mean watch it!" he growled.
"Si, senor," the boy grinned dourly.
Almost as quickly they were surrounded by five men, swarthy, shiny-haired, dressed in flashy suits, sparkling white shirts, string ties, completely disregarding Nova's presence, huckstering their girls: "You want a woman, Joe? I have real beautiful ... young ... sexy. Give you a good job, Joe. Try my Juanita. Clean girls ... Come with me, pal...."
Angrily Karo cut through the buzzard pack, shoved them aside. "Damn it!" he growled. "Can't you see there's a lady with us?"
Nova smiled, felt a warm spark in her heart. At least to someone, she was still a woman.
They entered Chico's club, and were led to a table by an idiotically grinning toady.
The club, its modern facade notwithstanding, was a barny dive, high-ceilinged, sooty-beamed, and had a stained, rough floor. The furnishings were battered, dis colored, and gave Nova an unclean feeling. A tired three-piece combo played diluted American pops, a couple listlessly danced on one corner of the large floor. The curtains on the raised stage to their left were closed.
Floor show, ten minutes," the waiter beamed, leaning over them. "You would like a dreenk?"
"Beer," Karo said.
"The hell with that beer bit," Rondo laughed. "We drink Mexican style tonight. Bring us four tequila martinis."
Nova rebelled. "No, Del, not for me. Just vodka and some mix."
"What's the sweat? You don't have to go home to daddy tonight. You can sleep it off tomorrow morning." He tried shoving the waiter off. "Four tequilla martinis."
"Si, setwr," he grinned happily, turned. Only to have Karo clamp his arm firmly, hold him in place.
"Two martinis," the Negro snapped. "One beer, one vodka sour."
Puzzled, the waiter drifted off.
"Ain't you gettin' biggety?" Nick snarled. "You act like you're running this show."
"Maybe I am," Karo said, his gaze never wavering before Casetta's. "Somebody should. You two goin' off-half-cocked all over the place. We got a big show tomorrow, remember? We blow it, Lombardi's gonna have out hides. And Nova's the key ... she's gotta have a clear head."
Del bristled. "Sounds like somebody's looking for a thrashing ... needs to be put in his place."
"You ready to try?" Karo dared. "Maybe Lombardi owns me. You don't. Right now?"
"Please, Del ... Karo...." Nova interceded, frightened at the prospect of violence.
"Sure," Karo growled, "cause a big stir, draw attention to us, spoil the whole bit. Lombardi'll skin you alive, run you up and down one of them cactuses."
"He's right," Nick said, his fear of Lombardi overruling his desire to tangle with the Negro, "we'd be crazy to get loused up now...."
"One of these days," Del threatened lamely.
"I'll be waiting, flap-mouth."
The drinks arrived then, and the animosity was temporarily buried. As they appraised the club Del and Nick came to the conclusion that they'd made a poor choice. There were only four other couples in the place, two of them locals. And when the floor show started, turned out to be a husband and wife dancing team, a thin, dark tenor, a corny magician, they were positive of their miscue.
They finished their drinks (Nova's especially strong, she thought), and loosened up somewhat. Male animals, Nova concluded, reacting to tension, lashing out re-flexively at each other. "Let's get out of here," Rondo said finally. "Looks like Chico forgot to pay his dues to the police chief this month."
He summoned the waiter, slipped a dollar into his hand. "Where's the action?" he grinned slyly, "as muchackas? The girls?"
La Taberna," the man whispered furtively. "Across the street." He darted away, not wanting to be caught betraying his employer.
La Taberna was just that. An unpretentious, proud-of-the-fact tavern. Small, crowded, dark, even dirtier than Chico's place, its reek of cigarette smoke, liquor, unadulterated sin, met them halfway, smacked them in the face. Entering, seeing the half-naked girls who toted drinks among the tables, Rondo chuckled. "This's more like it."
A lovely, chubby girl wearing the skimpiest of brassieres, a mere G-string at her hips, greeted them, led them to an empty table. The tequila already hitting Nick, he toyed with the girl's buttocks. An attention she only giggled at, called a flirtatious, "Senor!," made no effort at all to forestall.
"Yeah," Rondo repeated. "This is more like it."
Their drink order was the same, Nick openly sliding his hand up and down the waitress' legs as she took it.
There was a small round stage in the room's center, the tables were arranged arena-fashion about it. The long bar along one wall was crowded, the barmen were splashing liquor hurriedly, the waitresses kept coming and going in hectic flow. It was truly a swing scene.
Especially on that stage. Where a procession of shapely Mexican strippers was undulating and teasing, each taking a turn, plying her specialty, giving way for the next female. The girl onstage at the moment was a young, lovely creature, barely eighteen, her body firm, supple and darkly smooth, a vision of total, desirable woman.
Yet, as she went through her mechanical motions, Nova saw the emptiness in her eyes, the way she really didn't see the people for whom she danced exotically.
She couldn't help comparing the girl to herself, the girl's condition to her own.
How strange the world is, she thought.
The Mexican beauty was unaware of any empathy existing between her and Nova. She twisted and ground her hips, plucked at her bare nipples with practiced tease motions, she flung her head, made her long black hair stand away, let it fall about her in a glossy, black cloud. And now, her act growing more vile, she feigned unmistakable passion, she burlesqued, in expression, in twistings and shudderings the mood of a woman in the throes of need for a man.
Nova could feel the three men with her grow tense, their eyes riveted on the girl. A noticeable quiet came over the entire crowd as she began a dozen times to remove the thin string of black silk that concealed her uttermost self. As she teased, teased-
Now the black wisp came away. And unlike with strippers in the U.S. there was no more tease. What was now revealed was pure woman; there were no concealing patches, no sequined cheaters. And the girl danced more wildly in her exaggeratedly high-heeled pumps, she sank deeper into her parody of uncontrollable lust.
Her breasts throbbed and whirled, her hips jiggled frenziedly, her hands roved her body in restless investigation and caress, she arched her body, bunted herself into the empty space between her and the audience. Which drove the men wild.
A total silence mantled the crowd, the bartenders finally received a needed rest. At the stripper now went to the edge of the stage, was handed the unmistakable fetish item. And the act turned vile, very vile indeed. The young wanton admired, fondled the clay approximation, let it drive her to more heathenish frenzy as she slid it on her breasts, on her pulsing belly, caressed her smooth thighs with it.
And now, as she bent her legs, attended herself elsewhere with it, touched herself lightly, arousingly, her expression agonized, her hips jerking in violent spasms-
Even Nova was affected, she suffered with that possessed female. She found herself holding her breath, hypnotized by the foul pantomime. But her arousal was nothing compared to that of the men in La Taberna. It seemed a collective sighing went up, a mistral of tortured breathing. From the back, at the bar, came a single muffled "Aiee...."
After that girl the other strippers' acts became humdrum and repetitious. There were others as beautiful, as erotically talented. But an overdose of sensuality is like an overdose of almost anything else. Nova caught herself drinking too much, she drifted in and out of a hazy trance.
How long they stayed at the sin palace she couldn't recall. Nick and Del were definitely drunk, Nova wasn't far behind. Karo, seemingly, was the only one maintaining his equilibrium. But even he was smiling crookedly on the strong Mexican beer.
Seemingly the place got noisier and noisier, the temperature soared, the smell of close-packed humanity closed in with a vengeance. Dazedly Nova became aware that the waitresses were now totally naked, she saw them sidling through the crowds, allowing the grossest of liberties, pausing to permit the men to handle their bodies, giggling loudly when they played too long.
Another round of unwanted drinks came. It was then Nova saw Rondo pull the pretty girl back, point wordlessly to the silver dollar he'd balanced on edge atop the table. t The waitress' eyes glittered venally, evilly. Tip-they said.
And without a moment's embarrassment, still balancing her tray, she edged close to the table, partially straddled it. Wriggling her hips and thighs, she picked up the silver dollar in a most unique way. Backing off, she clamped her thighs tightly, minced off. "Muchos gracias, senor," she called back liltingly.
"Mucha grass to you, too," Rondo laughed drunkenly. "Man, did you ever see a thing like that before? They can all do it!"
"Hey," Nick said. "You got another silver dollar?"
"Please," Nova said. "I'll be sick."
She didn't remember when the overly dark, hooked-nosed Mexican man approached their table, conducted a whispered conversation with Del and Rondo, an exchange which even Karo joined in, nodded his head in slow anticipation. She saw money passed.
Moments later she was being jerked up, dragged from the bar. "We goin' home?" she asked.
"Not yet. Got a treat for you. The man's got a pad. We're gonna see a cute little show. A Mexican circus...."
"What ... is that? It doesn't sound good, Del! Please, take me home."
The decrepit taxi waited outside, and they piled in. Three minutes later they were being unloaded before a rundown, two-story house in a most impoverished part of Agua Prieta.
Instantly a man drifted from the gloom. "Senores?"
"Flix sent us," Rondo snapped.
"Ah yes," the man said. "Thees way please ... ".
There were four other men, one other woman in the murky, littered room. A room whose windows were heavily draped, in which the air was close and fetid. Nova, seeing the bed at one end, the single spotlight lighting it, the semicircle of folding chairs, surrounding it, knew instantly why they were here. She'd heard about things like this, but she'd never believed they really existed.
"No, Del...." she moaned. "Please, let's get out of here."
"Oh, yes, Del," he mocked her. "We stay put. This's gonna be good."
Karo grinned foggily. "Keep easy, child," he said. "It won't hurt you one bit."
Someone handed Nova a drink. Compulsively she raised it to her lips, sipped it. It was bitter, almost pure vodka. Still she didn't mind. If it would help her get through this-She drank again.
A buzzing came over the group. Nova's head jerked up, she saw the curtains at the end of the room part, admit two girls, and a statuesque, brawny brute of a man.
The man was dark, very tall for a Latin, his hair was coal black, and he wore a thin mustache. One of the women, an older specimen of about thirty, was white, a bottle blonde, buxom, hard-eyed. Her sister in sin was a Mexican, her skin honey-tones, a girl of 21 at the most. She was extremely lovely, she wore a red brassiere, red panties beneath her white, gauzy peignoir. Red patent pumps graced her feet.
Again, when she gazed at her audience, Nova saw that same empty look in her eyes. Hoplessness, resignation. And she thought: If human dignity is so cheap in this semi-primitive land, how utterly valueless human life must be!
The man wore white, skin tight Levis, matching white canvas shoes. His chest was bare, his bulging muscles gleamed provocatively in the bright glare. The blonde woman wore a matching peignoir, but her panties and bra were black, as were her patent leather pumps.
There was no finesse to the sex exhibition, there was no attempt made to incorporate a story line to the gang lust presented in that carpeted arena. The threesome merely whaled away at each other in the most degenerate way possible, sought to titillate and shock.
To this effect the women peeled away their silky robes, worked in just their brassieres and panties, commenced to rub the man's chest and back with their hands, they kissed his lips, his face, the extrusions of his chest. All attentions which, bored though the man might be, took instant effect on him. Which effect was immediately visible in the tight trousers he wore. Seeing the outline of him, Nova was amazed.
She looked to the other woman in the room, a bleary-eyed brunette, saw the way she leaned forward in her chair, her face rapt. At the same time she felt Del's hand creep under her skirt, begin to slide on her inner thighs. Nova gulped her drink, stared ahead as if mesmerized, made no move to reject him.
The two girls shammed frenzied lust, clung to the man, simultaneously slid to their knees before him. The man grinned in arrogant benevolence, let them cling to his legs, let them grovel at his feet. Moments later he surrendered to them. Nova loosed an involuntary gasp, Rondo's hand clenched.
Quickly the wantons worked, peeled away his shoes then the tight trousers. The man turned. Instantly the girls attacked him, fought each other for the privilege of touching him, of frantically assessing him. The blonde was the first to attempt paying homage in a very servile manner.
She'd barely captured him when she was pulled away by the jealous, dusky woman. Without a moment's hesitation she took her sister's place. In further generosity, the amused man fell on the bed, capitulated to their eager attentions.
The women scrambled after him, and for a long time ministered to him, each taking a turn, becoming impatient when the other took too long. And as they worked, the man saw to undressing them, poking and playing with them outrageously. Soon the pagan trio was completely naked, they tumbled on the bed, a welter of arms and legs.
Not too long after, the man lost control. And while the blonde attended him, he drew the raven-haired doll to him, made her kneel over his shoulders. She giggled, lowered herself as he began to adore her in a very exotic way.
Shortly he tired of the blonde, rejected her, instituted the Latin in her place. The blonde switched, adjusted her body, leaned toward the dusky woman.
Moments later, in a vile daisy chain, each was attending the other; no one was made to do without.
The disgusting carnival went on and on, the females attending the man. Nexxt they took turns, they experimented with the wildest positions possible, their faces masks of aboriginal delight. They screamed and moaned thickly as he moved above them, as he seemingly jolted their bodies upward on the bed.
And while the man withheld himself, they either shammed or achieved two separate culminations apiece, the non-participating female inflaming, handling their stud in shameless fashion. But finally, above the Mexican girl, when he could withstand the drive no longer-
Afterward the blonde regenerated him in that most unfailing way, a process which took a long time. And Rondo, driven wild by the scene, let his hands become more frenzied under Nova's skirt. Nova saw her brunette counterpart receiving like attentions from her escort.
Some of the things they did blurred before Nova's eyes.
But something she'd always remember-the circus's finish: The blonde flat on her stomach on the bed, the dark girl holding her legs, the revived stallion crawling, taking her in a most degenerate way, the blonde shrieking in mock pain at first, surrendering, liking the bestialization very much at the end-
Shortly afterward Nova and the three men, came shamefacedly into the chill night, found the taxicab waiting.
None of them spoke as they got into their Cadillac, carefully inched their way out of Agua Prieta. There was a brief stop at the border as the sleepy-eyed guard checked out their liquor purchases. Then they were heading into Douglas.
Words would have been superfluous indeed. For before they'd even reached the apartment, Del had stripped off Nova's panties, he'd unfastened her brassiere, had plundered both those secret nests with his hands.
In the dark bedroom Nova fought at first, was determined not to wallow in the depravities Rondo wanted from her. But still badly intoxicated, confused, defeated, she capitulated very quickly. Especially when he twisted her hair, set her brain on fire. With a tortured sigh she slid away from him, went to her knees before the bed.
Even as she saw the abomination through she heard Nick chuckling out in the other room. "Hurry up, you two. I got it bad."
Rondo, when he tired of the obeisance, condescended to take her normally, seemingly took forever to finish. Still, despite the endless night of saturnalia and arousal, Nova was mere convenient vessel; she felt nothing at all.
Save weariness and impatience.
She forgot to fight when Nick Casetta insolently demanded that same servility from her. His words of defilement, of sadistic encouragement and description fell on deaf ears. It was a vilification to get finished with as soon as possible, a conscienceless act to be mechanically executed.
Then the braggart brat was ready; he climbed, possessed her. He was thankfully, delivered like the greedy, little jackrabbit he was.
Finally Karo Brown stood in the gloom, his shoulders bent, his voice supplicating. "I don't wanna do this, Miss Nova," he said, "But they're making a helluva racket out there. Anymore and the cops'll be here"
"It's all right," she choked. "One more won't hurt."
"No," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed fully clothed. "I won't. That once was bad enough, I've hated myself ever since."
She took his hand, placed it on her breast. "You sure, Karo? It won't matter. I won't feel anything one way or another. You're a man ... after all you've seen tonight...."
"That's right, I'm a man. But not an animal. Just 'cause they've caught you in some sort of trap ... that don't give them the right to...." His voice softened, the mild drunkenness became obvious. His tone was almost self pitying. "I know what it's like, child. I got trapped once. I murdered a man in Boston. Lombardi knew the finger man. I've been paying, I've been dancing to his tune ever since."
"Hey, Karo," Nick's voice came at the door. "We don't hear nothing in there. Only talking...."
"Keep your shirt on, boy!" he growled. "You wanna wake the whole house?"
He turned back to Nova as if he hadn't been interrupted. "But one these days ... Karo's gon' quit payin', he's gon' quit dancing ... And when that day comes...."
He shuddered. "I'm a man, not a black, ugly animal. A man ... with rights. They gotta understand that."
Nova was stirred. "Yes, Karo," she whispered muzzily. "You are a man. A good man." She worked his hand on her breast. "Are you sure...."
"No, not when it's something I gotta rip away from a woman. Some thin' I take because she can't help herself."
Nova knew a confused, searing compassion. "And if I tell you it's all right? If I tell you I ... want you?"
A piteous moan broke from his throat. He shuddered. "We can just pretend, rattle the bed...."
"No!" Nova seethed, jerking on the bed. "The real thing. Please, Karo."
He shuddered, fought himself to his feet, was about to bolt from the room. A monstrous tremor hit him. He turned, came toward her. Then he was tearing at his clothes.
"Forgive me, Nova," he sighed.
She held him close. "It's all right," she breathed. "It's all right."
They loved. And after the sick, ugly things they'd done and witnessed that night it was a sweet love. A gentle love. A calm love.
Rondo's voice drifted to them, shrill and mocking. But Nova ignored it, shut it out, gave-She gave herself willingly, gladly-to this poor, tormented man. She soared.
Nothing mattered any more now.
Nothing at all.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a sick, dispirited, hungover Nova Dixon who departed from that Beaumont Street apartment house at exactly 12:25 that next afternoon. As well as an indescribably weary, confused, and keyed-up woman. Her legs and arms trembled nonstop as she carefully tooled the Plymouth across Douglas, her heart pounded harder every mile that brought her closer to the border.
The heat closed in on her terribly today, made her scalp feel tight. And if the physical pain was bad-It was nothing compared to the pain she felt in her heart. As she thought of last night's jaunt into Agua Prieta, of the things Rondo and Casetta had extorted from her. And that thing with Karo Brown-Well. It was just better not to think about that.
She'd never, in a million years, understand what had got into her at the end there.
Her left eye developed a sudden tic, and she closed it, fought the fluttering away. She glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, and grimaced. Even with the layers of make-up she'd put on, the sunglasses, she still looked like she'd just lost her broom. The tension, the nonstop debauchery was taking its toll; seemingly she'd aged ten years in the past 24 hours.
Now thoughts of what the next hour would bring slammed her anew. And she gripped the steering wheel hard, saw her knuckles go white. As, in the near distance, she saw the white pylons of the customs station loom up out of the desert. She dropped her speed to thirty, screamed inside as the twin towers grew, came closer.
But this panic was as nothing compared to that she experienced when she reached the border gate, saw a totally unknown man flagging her down. Instantly thoughts that the plot had been discovered, that these were F.B.I, men in disguise, waiting to spring on her, flooded her mind. She fought hard to control her trembling hands as she handed the stern-visaged man her permit. "I'm going over to pick up my housemaid," she ventured.
The man smiled, handed the paper back to her. Nova expelled a huge breath as he waved her through.
For the first time since she'd started crossing the border Nova entered the house belonging to Rosalita and Manuel Jimenez. And she was appalled that human beings could live in the midst of such squalor, in such scramped surroundings. She only hoped that the Jimenez's part in this smuggling scheme would be rewarded amply enough for them to afford a little better future.
It was dark in the fetid room, and her eyes took a long time to adjust. Then she saw the fat, well-dressed Mexican man, fair-skinned and appearing self-satisfied standing in one corner. Manuel Jimenez stood timidly behind him. "Senora Malson?" he said. "Yes, that's right."
He pointed to the plastic bag on the table, the bag filled with white powder. "Here is the shipment. One of our men will be watching at the border. If anything goes wrong he'll be in touch with Senor Malson." Abruptly he turned, prepared to leave through the back door. "I wish you good luck." Then he was gone. .
Instantly Rosalita loosed a torrent of angry Spanish at her husband. He flushed, retreated from the hovel also. Rosalita turned to Nova. "Andale," she urged.
Nova lifted her full, dirndl skirt, tore down her panties in front, felt minor embarrassment as the Mexican woman saw her there and giggled. Then, without a moment's hesitation Rosalita placed the cold bag against Nova's stomach, she was quickly taping it to her flesh with wide adhesive tape.
"Baeno," she said finally, testing her handiwork. Then she snapped up the panties, let Nova drop her skirt. "We go now."
It seemed Nova's legs turned to water as she returned to the car, got behind the wheel. Rosalita smiled, patted her hand in conspiratorial reassurance. Then she sank into stolid imperturbability. If she was nervous, she gave no outward signs whatsoever. The Plymouth lurched forward.
The last leg, Nova thought.
Here was culmination of all their carefully laid plans, here was payoff for all the humiliations she'd suffered at Rondo's hands during those interminable, hot afternoons.
What waste if they should be stymied at this last moment! It would mean the end of everything. Her life, her feeble hopes for the future. Everything! She couldn't fail. She turned onto the main street. Nova fought for breath again.
She slowed as she came to the gate, saw no one. She came equidistant to the office-shelter, was possessed of the wildest urge to gun her motor, roar through. But no, she coasted, waited for someone to emerge, wave her through. Then she heard the sharp command:
"Just a minute, ma'am. Do you have' anything to declare?"
She hit the brake so hard she almost killed the motor. She was positive her face was chalk-white, that the panic was there for the whole world to read. Again she stared into an entirely unfamiliar face. "I'm taking my housemaid back to Douglas," she said. "I didn't stop, I didn't buy anything if that's what you mean." As insurance she added, "Where's Mr. Barclay today? Or Mr. Lemke? They're usually on, they let me go right through."
"They're on vacation this week. Be gone for two weeks." The young, gung-ho type stared at her intent-ly. "I'm afraid I'll have to check the car."
"But it's so unnecessary," Nova said. "I didn't shop, I...." The lady protesteth too much, she thought, stopped short. If she aroused his suspicions-
He stuck his head inside the car, looked around intently. "If you'll open the trunk, ma'am."
Nova held her breath, got out of the car. Gingerly she leaned back, got the keys, prayed that the tape would hold. If that ten-pound parcel fell now-she felt extremely awkward as she walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk. "Hurt yourself?" the guard asked pleasantly. "The way you walk I ... "
"I hit my knee the other day. It's still sore."
The man shone his light inside the trunk, found nothing to arouse his suspicions. He slammed down the lid. "Everything's okay. Sorry to delay you, ma'am."
Nova got back into the car carefully. "That's all right, officer," she smiled. "That's your job, after all."
He grinned. "I wish everybody was that understanding. Bye now." Then he was waving her through.
Nova was a half mile from the border station before she remembered to breathe again. Then it seemed like a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She began to giggle in a nervous relief. Rosalita beamed at her with black teeth. "Bien, senora. Bien, bien...."
Risking a break in routine, Rondo let Nova take Rosalita back at four that afternoon. Upon her return, they headed back for Tucson in Lombardi's Cadillac, Karo Brown driving, Nick Casetta sitting next to him. While in the back seat, having drunk most of the afternoon to celebrate their success, Rondo insisted on mauling Nova.
A thing which she, completely beat, tried to put a damper on. All she wanted to do was doze, let her jangled nerves regain their elasticity. "Didn't you get enough last night?" she rasped, fighting his hands. "What kind of a sex fiend are you anyway? Please, Del, I'm tired. Leave me alone."
"Tired hell," he mocked. "Piggies like you never get tired." He tried to force the whiskey bottle on her. "C'mon, baby, take a li'l drinkie. We celebrate. Next week this time we gon' be rich. Richer'n hell."
She fought him, but he was persistent. In the end she wearied. And crawling back into her indifferent, resigned shell, she let him undo her brassiere, she let him handle her to his heart's content.
All right, she thought, celebrate, damn you. Celebrate all you want. Only don't expect me to celebrate with you. She shut off her mind, was only vaguely conscious of his hands doing those dirty things to her.
After a time, when she refused to become aroused, Rondo forgot about her. He concentrated on his bottle instead. Nova was immeasurably releived when the animal finally fell asleep, sprawled upon her, his face in her lap. Her skirts still up where he'd left them, Nova garnered some scant comfort from the position, made no attempt to remove him.
Nick Casetta, turning, taking in the scene, put it better-albeit more bluntly-than Nova could have. As he cackled: "Hey, wait'll old Del wakes up, finds out where he's been all afternoon."
It was as Nova reached home at 6:55 (Karo dropped her on Jefferson Drive, nobody had paid further attention to her) found Lloyd's note on the foyer table, that the combined tension and degradation finally cracked her.
"Nova, Angel," it read. "I'm sorry I won't be here to welcome you home. I'm eating dinner near the plant. That way I can finish up earlier, get home in time to spend a few minutes with you. Be home around ten. It was hell here last night without you. I missed you so. I tried to imagine what you were doing in Phoenix. Love you, Lloyd."
Nova's eyes suddenly filmed over, a gigantic lump formed in her throat. Blindly she staggered upstairs, fell on the bed. You tried to imagine what I was doing last night, darling? she raged. Thank whatever Gods there are that you never imagine things like that, pray you'll never find out.
Then all the hurt and shame and remorse ganged up on Nova. She buried her face in her pillow, sobbed hysterically, her cries great whooping barks, her exertions scalding her chest and throat, rocking the bed turbulently.
"Lloyd," she called, "my darling, my poor darling...."
Nova was in bed, sleeping a deep, recuperative sleep when Lloyd returned home at 10:10. Having finally regained control, she'd eaten, had spent almost an hour in the tub scrubbing and soaking the slime of the past thirty hours off her body. At the end she'd yearned for some way to scour that same slime from the convolutions of her brain.
Now she lurched, came awake with a soft sigh, found herself in Lloyd's arms, found him gently kissing her. "Baby...." he whispered. "Welcome home...."
Instantly Nova felt a monumental peace and ease swamp her, an awesome sense of security. She clung to him desperately. "Darling," she breathed. "It's so good to be home ... I found your note. It was so sweet. I missed you too, Lloyd." She shuddered. "More than I can ever tell you."
They kissed again, and Nova was struck by an incredible yearning never to be out of this man's arms again. Just to lie like this, be safe, never to be afraid again.
"Rough convention?" he asked. "You look all tuckered out, honey."
"Convention?" Nova blurted. Then caught herself. "Oh, yes. It was murder. Meetings all day, a banquet meeting last night, a luncheon today. I never got so tired of hearing people yap in all my life."
A small expression of regret formed on his face. "I kinda thought so. Finding you in bed and all. You're too tired, I imagine...."
"Too tired for what?"
He averted his eyes. "I've wanted you all day. I ... I'd like to make love to you tonight."
And suddenly, despite the way her senses had been so ravaged recently, Nova felt spearing desire, she was seized by the most desperate urge to have her husband, to have him love her in that special way of his. It had been so long-seemingly weeks-since she'd been loved. She'd been used, she'd been brutalized.
But to be truly loved-to love in return-"Darling," she breathed, "I'm never that tired. If u want me...."
Gratitude shone in his eyes, and he kissed her feverishly, he held her painfully tight. "Thank you, angel," he said. "I'll go wash up. Get some wine. We can talk, relax a little. Before we ... "
"Yes, Lloyd. Go ahead. I'll be right here waiting." He wore just his pajama bottoms, arrived with a tray upon which the sherry decanter, two glasses rested. A moment later he was in bed with her, they propped their backs with pillows, sipped their wine reflectively. And again Nova knew that wonderful sense of peace and contentment, wished it could last forever.
But it could not. For now, out of the blue, Lloyd said, "You know, baby, I've been worried about you lately, I've been thinking the craziest kind of things. I supposed I shouldn't bring them up just now, but ... "
Nova was instantly alert. "But, of course, Lloyd. Tell me. What's bothering you?"
"You've been looking so tired and drawn lately, honey. I can't help but get the idiotic idea you're in some kind of trouble. The way you've been running lately...." He paused. "Forgive me for saying this, but I can't help it. I'm a man, a man crazy in love with you, and men get jealous. Especially men in my unique situation...."
"Lloyd, say it. Get it out."
"I've got the crazy idea there's someone else, Nova. I just can't shake it. Tell me, is that so? Have you taken a lover? God knows I wouldn't blame you. But
... damn it! I have to know. Nova, tell me the truth."
Lloyd, Lloyd, Nova's ravaged heart cried out. If only it were that simple. To admit that I had a lover, that he turned on me, took advantage of me. I'd tell you in a minute if it were that easy. I'd be deliriously happy to confess, to have it off my mind once and for all. But how can I tell you the truth? How can I even begin to tell you about the horrible mess I've got into?
Instantly she knew it could not be. If only from Lloyd's viewpoint, from the fact that the admission would crush him, cripple him even more. Thus she lied, piled lie atop lie:
"No, Lloyd," she said, forcing grave sincerity into her voice, "I'm happy to tell you, you're wrong, that you're fretting about nothing at all. I know I've been busy, but it's not because I've been rushing off to meet another man." That, she conceded, was partially true. "It's just that I've let myself get involved more than usual with my clubwoman things. You've been gone so much."
She kissed his ear playfully, slid her hand on his chest, seduction, attempt to detour the conversation, foremost in her mind. "Really, there isn't that much to be done around here. I do have lots of free time. And since we never had any children ... I have to make busy work to keep my mind off things."
The thrust was masterful. Instantly Lloyd was on the defensive, he was the offender, Nova the offended. He gathered her in his arms, kissed her face in a frantic rush. "Darling, I know. I'm sorry I even asked. I'm sorry about so many things. Especially about the children, about the fact that I'm incapable...."
She shushed him. "Never be sorry about that. I'm not complaining, I'm happy. You're loving and kind, you know how to please me, how to send me to the stars when you want to. I'm only sorry there's no way I can repay you...."
"You repay me, darling. Just by putting up with me, by letting me love you, loving me in return."
Nova's heart swelled. She clung to him hotly. "And I do love you, you are enough man for me. If you only knew the women I know, women who do have whole husbands. Husbands who don't know the first thing about gratifying their wives, who think only of themselves...." Nova faltered, felt a rush of self discovery. It was so; she'd never thought about their marriage in quite that light.
And suddenly it seemed desperately important that Lloyd make love to her at that moment; it seemed that it would heal a breach, would be a faltering, first step-"Darling," she sighed, "Don't think me too awful. But won't you ... right now?" Her body surged to his. "Won't you turn off the lights, come to me now, make love to me?"
"Angel...." he groaned ardently. Then he was up, taking their empty glasses, running to extinguish the lights.
Nova was ready, her nightie thrown aside, when he returned. And even as he tried to come to her, kiss her breasts: "No," she squirmed. "You lie there, love. Let me take care of this part of it...."
She scrambled up, straddled his belly. "Won't ... won't you take off your pajama bottoms?"
"No, darling. Please ... don't ask me...."
"Yes, Lloyd. Any way you want it." Then she adjusted her body, moved over him, she let her aching breasts hang heavily, she slowly lowered the throbbing tips to his lips. She sighed, shivered as his tongue came up, took tentative swipes at each puckered nib.
Then she was delivering herself to him completely, she was exulting, being driven into ecstatic frenzy at the expert way her husband-her lover-attended those sensitive sentinels. And when he gathered the nipples, compressed those ripe globes, took both stinging caps into his mouth at the same time-
She was transported to a timeless, dimensionless realm. Where only sexual delight existed-pure, unfettered joy.
The glorious sensations went on and on. Now, in delicate bonus, one of his hands skittered down her belly, slid on the curves of her thighs. Now the hands moved upward, inch by inch, tickling and maddening her still further. He found her, inflamed her abandonedly.
And Nova writhed, let the sighs of delight flow from her throat. Proudly, vaingloriously.
Not long after Lloyd ceased these attentions. Nova was dragged kicking from her trance, she said, "Lloyd?" as his hands clutched the back of her thighs, crowded her upwards on him. Still, at the end, she resisted the downward pressure of his hands.
"Darling?" she quaked. "Are you sure? This way?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he husked. "This way. Any way." His hands pressured anew. And Nova, awash with a delicious, weak heat, let him do as he wished with her. She wriggled, presented herself. She felt his hot breath.
Then, as it began-She felt like a million, restless ants had invaded her body, she trembled and tensed uncontrollably, soft whimpers broke from her mouth. Then gradually, his caress evened out, the jittery feeling was gone. There was only the unqualified delight, the savorance, the greed for more, more-
She didn't remember when he rolled her onto her back, when he'd crowded himself back to her eager flesh. His body was heavy over hers, conferred a blessed, secure weight. An anchor. Still, he tortured her in that exquisite way, that way she never wanted to end.
And yet-Even now the awesome pressure, that scalding need grew. And she dug her nails into Lloyd's shoulders, she herded his head, she involuntarily clamped her legs.
It seemed she walked alone on a barren prairie. That in the distance she saw a red glow on the horizon. A glow that kept getting brighter, that swept the plain, came closer, closer. Now she saw the high wall of flame that pounded down on her, she felt the intensifying heat.
But crazily, instead of turning, fleeing, she ran toward that tidal wave of flame, she eagerly, in wanton self-sacrifice, embraced, plunged into that greedy consuming inferno. She welcomed that purifying heat, she wallowed in it, could not get enough of it.
Then, gradually, the heedless frenzy faded, the passion was spent. The flame was gone. And she was adrift in a cool, star-studded night sky. She was light, relieved, she floated like a white feather. Aimlessly, freely, happily Nova caressed Lloyd's head, murmured, "Darling, It was special. I flowered so beautifully, it didn't hurt, it didn't twist me all up inside like it does sometimes."
"Again?" he sighed.
"No, not again. That was perfect. Why take a chance on spoiling it?"
Now as Lloyd came up, kissed her, huddled in her arms, trembled away the residue of his unrelieved need-
Nova thought how love had exalted this rite, how love had made it right and beautiful and pure. And having now experienced that other brand of sexual love-that brand she'd yearned after all these years-in it's every vile ramification-she wondered if she were cured, if she had finally matured, shed her greedy, childish egocentricities. Couldn't she be satisfied with this counterfeit love from now on? Totally satisfied?
For it was love. In its truest, purest form. A love based on dependency, on mutual need, on a shared intimacy of the most total and intense sort. If each could accept the other's inadequacies, attempt to fashion a life, a love in spite of them-
What greater human compassion was there? What deeper understanding between a man and a woman?
Slow tears coursed down her cheeks as she sheltered Lloyd against her bosom. He slept. "My darling," she whispered. "I do love you. I love you so desperately."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But if Nova had entertained the feeblest dream that the successful delivery of heroin across the border would free her from her bondage to Rondo-and more especially to Amber Lombardi-these puny hopes were summarily dashed a scant five days later. When Lombardi once more called her on the phone, summoned her to his desert home.
"Little party, doll," he slurred confidently, "we celebrate our recent success. Tonight. And by the way ... the New York boys are in town. We've arranged a meet for tonight. The big payoff. Wouldn't you like to be in on that?"
"Please, Amber," Nova pleaded, fighting to keep from whining, "can't I just skip it this time? All of it, from now on? I thought if I helped you this time ... if I saw my part through ... brought the stuff over that...."
"That you'd be quits with us? How foolish, my dear. Such a promise was never part of our agreement. I'd be stupid indeed if I were to release you now. especially when we've got such a foolproof arrangement going for us. Those Feds'll be having fits wondering how this shipment got over. No, baby, you're too valuable a helper to let loose so soon. Maybe after you bring across the next load, if I think things are getting risky...."
"I can't go on like this," Nova choked. "I'm all but crazy with worry as it is. My husband's getting suspicious. Please, Amber, no more. Have pity ... "
"Pity isn't in my vocabulary," he laughed. "They left that part out when they made monsters like me. It's a tough old world. The sooner you find that out the better off you are. So far's the hubby's concerned, you've pulled the wool over his peepers this long, you can do it indefinitely. A pretty woman like you ... I'll have Karo stop by at nine. Same arrangement as last time."
"Yes, Amber," she said dully, defeated.
"And if it makes you feel any better, kid, I'm cutting you in for five grand. You can buy yourself a mind with that. How about that, Nova?"
"You're all heart, Amber," she said bitterly, hung up.
Yet she didn't dare ignore his summons. Telling Lloyd she'd be at Cammy's for bridge club until midnight or so, she was waiting on Jefferson when Karo slowly drove up at 9:05 that same night.
Del Rondo was already half stoned when Nova arrived; he'd obviously been on a week-long binge since the successful delivery. Nick Casetta was well along also. Nova, Lombardi and Karo Brown were the only relatively-sober persons present in that sumptuous living room. A condition Lombardi was eager to change so far as Nova was concerned. Immediately he began plying her with strong doses of vodka and mix.
"You look extremely beautiful tonight; my dear," he said. "That green dress is very flattering. I love that neckline. Any lower and your boobs would be falling out all over the place."
He snickered. "I can't think of a nicer person to have it happen to, either. Your shoes are exciting also. Very sexy. They make your calves stand out so beautifully, they give your ... posterior that extra little bounce. I wonder if you women realize the things your alluring rags do to us weak men?"
He sipped his drink, let his hand slide on the pert out-thrust of her right buttock. "But I suppose you do. The females certainly trade on it for all you're worth." He shrugged, grimaced. "Then you know me all too well. I have this thing about female accouterments." He clenched her buttock in a spate of sadistic lust, made Nova gasp with pain. "For these as well ... "
"Animal...." Nova shot.
"Yes, I guess I am an animal. All men are. But don't forget, women make them that way, they drive them to it. It's a private theory of mine that what men become in their adult years is subconsciously taught them by their mothers when they're too small to even begin to dream what ghastly trick's being played on them." He sighed heavily. "But we won't go into that now. Karo, get Nova a fresh drink."
"But I've hardly touched this one."
"A fresh drink, I said. Get with it, dear. This is a party, remember?"
And seeing the abstract light in his gaze, having heard some of his angry, meaningless chatter, Nova was convinced he was on a very sadistic kick indeed tonight. She decided to keep out of his way as much as possible.
She stood on the sidelines then, trying to remain as inconspicious as possible, avoiding Casetta also (he was convinced they should sneak up to the handiest empty bedroom immediately), she listened to the boisterous, confident shop-talk, she heard all sorts of incredible figures tossed around.
The meet with the eastern syndicate representatives was set for 12:15. So that there would be no chance of interruption while the heroin was changing hands (and approximately $2,000,000 in cash and certified credits with it), they'd agreed to meet on neutral ground. Thus they intended to drive further into the Sabino Canyon country, meet at a designated spot in the Coronado State Forest.
Nova knew the area they spoke of; she and Lloyd had picnicked there several times. It was desolate, desert terrain, the roads wound through it tortuously, there were scattered camp sites. It was a perfect place for neckers, and for assignations of other, more deadly types as well.
Only a tip-off, only the wildest of consequences would bring the police, the federal men, to such an isolated spot.
Now the "party" moved into another phase. The plans made, the restlessness growing by the minute, the men seemed anxious for diversion. Rondo drifted over to where Nova sat alone, flung his arm around her shoulder. "How are you, baby?" he said thickly. "Long time no see. I been thinking about that night in Agua Prieta. Wasn't that a blast? Then that howler in that apartment afterwards...." He cackled loudly. "Bet you didn't walk straight for a week afterwards. Especially the way you an' that Karo made out. I thought you two'd never get finished."
Nova's angry eyes slid across to where Karo sat toying with his glass of beer. Their eyes met, she saw the tense line of his jaw, the murderous hate there. Yet when his eyes locked with hers, she knew the hatred wasn't meant for her.
Lombardi drifted over at that moment, heard the last of the exchange. "Sounds like you had quite a time." He frowned. "Risky business though. You'd better not pull that again, Rondo. We'll part company very abruptly if you do."
"Aw, boss...." Rondo growled. "I knew what I was doing. I wasn't gonna spoil nothing...."
Lombardi wheeled. "Nickie, I'm getting bored. Get that screen set up. Let's look at some of those new stags we got." He turned to Nova. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, dear? Have you ever seen a stag film?"
"She's seen something better," Rondo interrupted. "Like the real thing."
"I wasn't talking to you," Lombardi shot.
"Sorry, boss."
A flurry of activity erupted in the room. Casetta produced a folding screen, set it up at the end of the living room. Karo, simultaneously, rolled out a heavy projection cart, an expensive movie projector--already threaded with a full reel of film-upon it.
Rondo scurried to make fresh drinks all around.
Lombardi drew Nova close on the davenport, toyed with her nipples through the nylon gown. "You'll enjoy this immensely, my dear," he. murmured. His hands slid along her buttocks again. "If you've never...."
Abruptly his face contorted, became more cruel. "But first ... Karo," he ordered. "Over here."
"Yes, sir?" the cowed Negro said.
"Help Nova with her panties, will you? Boy? I'm sure she'll be more comfortable, well both enjoy this film that much more if she...."
"Amber?" Nova started in dazed dismay. "You're not serious. I don't under...."
"You don't have to understand!" he shouted. "You just do what you're told. If that's the way I want you ... Sometimes you people can't get it through your heads who's boss around here. Karo? Did you hear me?"
The Negro's face was as confused as Nova's. Firmly but gently he raised her from the davenport, crouched before her, ran his hands up under her skirt, fumbled with her underwear. "Yes, Mr. Lombardi."
"Help the man," Lombardi ordered Nova. "Pull your dress up." His eyes became wild when she hesitated. "I said pull up your dress !"
Nova slowly obeyed, feeling the heat rise in her face as Rondo and Casetta paused in their chores, watched the incredible development. Her skirt came up, revealed the black, lacy underpinnings. She stood in frozen shame as Karo's hands drew down her panties, untangled them from her ankles. As her creamy belly was exposed to everyone present. "Mr. Lombardi...." she pleaded softly.
"Do as you're told, tramp!" he seethed, his eyes attaching themselves to her lower body, a leer growing. "There," he said as Karo retreated, "that's better. You're ever so much more attractive that way. No, hold your skirts like that. Up. Higher. Turn around, let me see your rear."
Woodenly Nova complied, turned, felt incredibly cheap. "Nice, very nice," Lombardi chuckled. "Like twin scoops of vanilla. Enough. Come sit by me now."
Still holding her skirts high she went to Lombardi, was glad to sit, partially conceal herself. His hand dug into her soft thighs. "About ready, Nick?" he called.
"Any time you say, boss."
He held Nick off with a wave of his hand, turned on Nova anew. "There's someone who wants to come out and see you," he wheezed. "Will you do the honors, my dear?"
Nova understood instantly. "No, Amber! Please, not in front of everybody like this. No...."
His hand clawed into her thigh, made Nova suck in her breath in a shrill gasp. "You're forgetting again, tramp."
She fell towards him, her expression agonized, she struggled with his trousers. A moment later-
Rondo chuckled obscenely from across the room, while Lombardi signalled Casetta. Instantly the room went dark, the screen lit up, the chatter of the projector was heard.
Now Lombardi helped Nova partially up, he brought her to sit on his lap. But there were adjustments, he bunched her skirt in back. "Take care of it, baby," he rasped. Nova fumbled, raised, then fell. Lombardi hissed in evil contentment. "Mmm, that's the greatest." He wriggled.
Nova's stomach heeled over hard.
Now she was even sicker. As her eyes focused on the screen, and she saw the harsh, grainy figures there, two men and a woman. As she saw the ugly things they were doing to each other.
The woman was dark-haired, very beautiful, very young. Her body was good, her breasts firm, high, beautifully formed. Again Nova wondered how this lovely creature had got involved in a vilification like stag movies.
The girl was beautifully dressed and shod. But not for long. As the men teamed up to throw her on a large bed, raised her skirts, began undressing her from the bottom up. As they made great show of raising her legs, exposing her. Then they were at the gown, they were each teasing one of her breasts.
Nova felt Lombardi become excited. His breath was hot, rapid where he peered over her shoulder. Then he deserted her buttocks, unzipped her gown in back. He unfastened the back of her brassiere. Working the straps down, he slid his hands around her, captured her breasts, depressed her nipples roughly.
On the screen the brunette was naked, she shammed passion as both men attended her breasts, the camera closing in to show their lips working at her nipples. And as she groaned and writhed under the tandem onslaught, each man sent one hand down her body, each touched her voluptuous curves. Which drove the wanton right out of her mind.
In the gloom Nova caught Casetta staring at her, getting more charge out of watching her defamation than the movie. Lombardi was becoming more excited, his hands were more cruel now.
On the screen the girl attempted to reciprocate for her lovers' delightful manipulations. Both men were naked on the bed, on their backs, both remarkably aroused. The girl knelt between their bodies, she moved alternately between her paramours, she conferred happy, eye-rolling homage upon them. And while she worked, their hands roved and titillated her in every possible place.
The sick play went on and on. While Nova sucked at her drink eagerly, fought to dull conscience.
The starlet became even more inventive. Now she'd pulled the two men together, she was fighting to commit that servility upon both of them simultaneously. But there were limits to her abilities, and she was frustrated. Nevertheless she didn't give up, she strained and scrambled.
It seemed she (or the lustful director) would never tire of this excess. Even Rondo finally began to grumble.
Moments later the men pulled away, engaged in a small, albeit silent, argument, finally ended up flipping a coin. The winner of the toss went to the girl, let her reward him still further. Then he finally moved over her. Grabbing her legs, he positioned them, raised them, propped one over each shoulder, jammed the girl backward, practically lifted her hips off the bed, bowed her body in extreme arc. But if it was painful, the victim didn't seem to mind. Her expression was happy, ecstatic. And as the camera zoomed in on her, the girl went wild.
And in her splendid frenzy she could not bear to have the other man neglected. As result she gripped him, drew him to her, entreating him. The triple orgy continued. The camera developed near schizophrenia as it leaped from zone to zone and back again.
Nova stared at the projector, was relieved to see that two-thirds of the reel was gone. Still as Lombardi abused her breasts, as he squirmed himself up to her, she felt she couldn't endure this a single second more.
Now one man had finished, the other was at taking her, he was attacking her like a runaway freight. Playing no favorites, the female crowded her depleted friend up close, saw to his gradual regeneration.
At the end Rondo was yipping in his throat, he made vile comment on everything that took place. Casetta's face strained, he looked hopefully to Lombardi, his expression begging seconds.
For a final scene the versatile child wanton arranged herself on her side, had one of her lovers possess her from the front. After much scrambling and guiding, the other man crowded behind her, managed to love her this way. The camera went wild shooting close shots of the basic action, then of the girl's face. As it registered first anxiety, then impatience. Anguish and finally delight.
All three bodies wrestled and tangled in frantic flow. And if it was a silent film, this was no drawback. For Rondo and Casetta were supplying commotion and sound track all their own.
Almost instantly, as the film ended, and the screen went glaring white, Lombardi flung Nova away from him, he threw her onto her back on the davenport. He attacked her, tore off her dress, slip, the already-opened brassiere. Leaving her stockings, garter belt and shoes, he ripped off his own trousers and shorts. Then, still wearing shirt, socks, shoes-
"Can we turn the lights on, boss?" Rondo snickered. "Can we watch?"
"Leave those lights the way they are," he snarled. Then he leaped at Nova, jammed his knee at her thighs, forced her to conform. His body fell upon hers.
"Please, Amber," she gasped. "Not here. Take me into the bedroom if you must. But not with everybody watching!"
"Here!" he growled thickly. "Right here. Since when are you becoming so high an mighty? You let everyone of those pigs maul you, you let them have anything they wanted. Why not me? Why not right here?"
He wheeled on the others, his face aberrated. "Watch, you animals!" he spat. "If that's what you want. Watch how a real stud takes care of things."
He drove himself to Nova, made her moan. "Hear that?" he grated. "That's how a woman does when she's run up against a real man." His body rammed more swiftly. "Move, or I'll really go after you."
In a frenzy of cold terror Nova clamped her eyes shut, obeyed the madman. She clenched her legs, gained small revenge by digging her sharp heels into the back of his legs, she ground and twisted her body. Which drove the man all the wilder. "Go, damn you! Go, go ... put some heft into it. Go, go...."
Nova opened her eyes briefly, felt her entrails jumble as she saw that Nick had turned the movie projector on them. And the running gears inoperative, only the lamp burning, they floodlighted the bestial profanation. Gigantic shadows leaped and jerked on the wall behind them, she wanted to vomit when she heard Rondo's giggles, his filthy encouragements.
Blessedly, Lombardi was delivered early. The movies, the foreplay throughout, had done their work well, had excited his feeble virility. And when he began to whine shrilly deep in his throat, when his hands clawed her buttocks-
Nova profusely thanked whatever gods looked after wayward animals like herself.
She opened her eyes at last, found the half-naked man scowling down vengefully at her. "Go upstairs," he said. "Get yourself cleaned up, do what you can with your clothes. Now! Move, you pig!"
"Aww, boss," Nick Casetta protested. "I thought you was gonna let us have a turn. That ain't fair to get us all hotted up like that, then leave us with our tongues hanging out! Please, Amber...."
"Shut up, you! That's it, understand? We've got an appointment. Or have you forgotten? You with your brain upside down." He looked after the retreating Nova. "She'll keep. When we get back you'll get your chance. All night if you want. But for now...."
The four men waited in grim silence as, ten minutes later, Nova came down the stairs. Though her dress was badly wrinkled, through her face was pasty, she didn't look too much the worse for wear. Instantly, seeing she was being waited for, she stiffened, her eyes widened.
"What is it, Amber? Haven't you done enough? What...?"
"A little trip, honey. I thought you'd like to come along. A little fresh air won't hurt you. We'll go out and meet those guys now. When we come back we'll really throw a party!"
"No, Amber ... you said ... What about my husband? Please, let me keep that little bit of dignity...."
He nodded at Rondo. "Del? You want to escort the prima donna out?"
Rondo grabbed Nova's arms, jacked her legs from the back. "C'mon, sugar. Outside, the boss says."
Lombardi stopped him at the door. He included Karo and Nick in his last warning: "You stupes got your guns? Just in case there's a double cross? I'm not expecting anything, but you never can tell. These New York hoods get crazy ideas sometimes."
Karo, Nick and Del all nodded slowly, Lombardi's words sobering them somewhat.
"Please," Nova pleaded a last time. "Let me go home, Amber. It's late ... I won't be able to explain this to ... "
He stared a hole through her. "Out into the car, all of you," he snarled. He threw a master switch, killed every light in the house. Then the greed-driven quintet was heading down the steps. To where the high-powered automobile waited.
They had a ten-mile drive on winding, rough roads ahead of them. And because they had a half-hour to kill they didn't especially hurry. Karo drove, Lombardi sat beside him. Nova was in back, in between Rondo and Casetta, she was forced to endure their snuffled, dirty whisperings, she squirmed, fought off their lewd clutchings and caresses. Which only served to inflame them the more. Especially Rondo.
Remembrance of that stag film still fresh in his mind, that dominating lust at full flow within him, he wanted release, no matter how improvised and makeshift. Decency was a word long ago discarded from his vocabulary. Thus it was that he shamelessly opened his trousers, that he wrestled with Nova, caught her behind the head, applied excruciating pressure there, made her moan in agony.
Lombardi whirled. "What's with you two?"
"I'm just gettin' mine, boss," Rondo rasped. "I'm convincing Nova she's wild about this...."
Her outrage and despair nearly suffocating her, Nova could fight no longer. "Please...." she groaned. "You're hurting me."
"You know how to stop that," Del gritted. "Just get with things and I'll stop hurting you...."
He increased the pressure, brought her head down inch by inch. And finally, with a helpless exhalation of mixed pain and befoulment, she surrendered, fell.
"Baby," Rondo seethed. "Ooh, ooh...."
"For God's sake," Karo rumbled angrily from the front, half turning. "Can't you leave that kid alone?. Ain't you done abused her enough? Give her peace...."
Rondo snickered. "I'll give her peace. Don't stop, Nova, doll. Like that. Talk about your pros...."
Lombardi turned on Karo. "What's with you all of a sudden, boy? Sir Galahad all of a sudden. The shining white knight?" He chuckled at the insult. "Little out of character, aren't you? You got a thing for our little Nova here? You should've told me, I'd have arranged a nice little honeymoon...."
"That's nothing," Nick added. "You should've seen him in Agua Prieta. He was a regular pain. Anything I hate it's a biggety . ... "
"Is that right, boy?" Lombardi needled even harder. "Taken a fancy to that, have you? Sounds like you've got some gentling coming to you. You're getting illusions of grandeur-"
Karo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead, said nothing. His eyes rolled angrily in his head, he clenched his teeth hard, stifled his rage. He fought to dull his senses, not to hear Rondo's continuing chuckles and exclamations of enjoyment, not to hear Nova's muffled whimpers.
"Hurry up there, will you?" Casetta said. "Don't play hog. I want my turn yet." He attempted prying Nova away, but Rondo gave him a hand shove.
He swore.
"All right," Lombardi's voice whipped, "knock it off! Don't act like a couple of greedy kids. We're almost there. You'll get plenty of chance when we get back to the house. For now, stick to business."
Reluctantly Rondo released Nova; she scrambled in her bag for a handkerchief. "Hell," he laughed, "I was just beginning to enjoy it."
Karo slowed the Cadillac as they entered the heart of the park, as the roads narrowed, became even more winding. A wide creek snaked its way along the road, it seemed they were constantly crossing narrow, one-way bridges. Nova stared frightened out the window, saw darkened automobiles parked along the road, tucked into unoccupied picnic and camping spaces.
But now, as they penetrated deeper into the wasteland of cactus, sand and scrub pines on the steep canyon walls, there were no more cars. Even lovers weren't that fool-hardy; they clustered in semi-private closeness for their own protection. It seemed to Nova they drove for fifty miles before they finally saw the silver-blue Lincoln Continental parked in a totally deserted picnic area.
"There they are," Lombardi shot. "Pull over, Karo. Keep some distance though."
In show of good faith the three men, two of them in dark suits, one in slacks and a wildly colored sport shirt, emerged from the Lincoln, stood smiling fixedly in the glare of the Cad's headlights.
Instantly Karo pulled off the road, killed lights and engine at the same time. "Lombardi?" came the muffled query from the darkness.
Then Lombardi and his entourage were disembarking, walking toward the eastern contacts.
Nova was left in the car. She sat bolt upright in the back seat, watched the two groups close, caught snatches of their terse, muffled conversation. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The clarity of the desert air made the stars glisten feverishly and the star glow granted more than adequate illumination.
Now and then the voices rose, and she saw the quick flare of flashlights as exchanges were made. Karo returned to the car, reached inside, dragged the two sacks of heroin from beneath the front seat. Again Nova blinked, had to reaccustom here eyes to the almost phosphorescent desert light.
A flashlight flared, and one of the men took the parcels to the Lincoln, placed them on the hood, conducted certain quick tests to verify the quality, weight and authenticity of the heroin. Shortly a gruff voice called. "This is her. No cut whatsoever. Straight goods."
"Good," another alien voice said. "Arch, get the loot." A light went on in the other car, and the man emerged carrying a heavy wooden box roughly two by two. He stood, looking from man to man among Lombardi's crew.
"Karo," Lombardi rasped. "Take it, break her open. Give it a quick looksee."
"There's no need for that," the second voice protested. "We're not tinhorns, we wouldn't try to pull a switch."
"Probably not," Lombardi said. "But we'll check just the same."
Nova saw Karo crouch on the ground, she saw him pry off the cover of the box. She saw the glint of plastic, the muted flash of green behind that protecting film. Instantly his dark hands were jamming deep into the mass, overturning bulky wads of bills. An awesome tension seemed to close down on all of them at that moment. Only the sigh of the breeze was heard.
What happened immediately after that Nova was never able to remember clearly. The pace was instantaneous, a sudden conflagration that dulled her mind, rendered it incapable of assimilating the events in their true sequence.
Karo's voice cut the air in a breathy whisper: "Boss, this ain't right. These rolls are stuffed, the bottom's a dummy...."
It was at that moment that the night was split with a deafening, staccato thunder. Glaring flashes of light exploded in the darkness, a double whine sounded somewhere above her head. From the corner of her eye she saw Karo fall sideways, scramble and lurch. Then she shrieked, clawed for the floor. Even as she fell she heard a clanging thud above her head, saw the leather door-liner suddenly develop a jagged wound.
There were curses, groans. Five more shots sounded in rapid sequence, the bluish glare kept illuminating the interior of the car. Then there was relative silence, only the sound of a man shrieking with pain.
Now she heard the soft chuff-chuff of sand, knew someone prowled out there. Terror impaled her as she thought they were coming for her, and even though she wanted to cringe, wanted to crawl through the very floorboards, she did not. Curiosity was her master.
Quakingly, slowly, expecting a death-dealing flash of light to meet her the second her head came over the window's edge, she came upright, peered out.
To see the dark, quick figure stalking among the crumpled bodies on the ground. A figure blessed with a God-given neutrality-a darkness to blend with darkness.
"Karo!" she gasped.
"You all right, Nova?" he hissed. "Stay put. You're gonna be all right." He went toward the groaning figure. Nova recognized it as Amber Lombardi. "Best you don't look at this, child," he said then.
But Nova, transfixed, couldn't force her eyes away. "Karo," Lombardi whispered a last time as the Negro pulled him half off the ground.
"Here's from Karo," he said tonelessly. Nova saw him put the gun to Lombardi's head. The night lit up anew; there was a muffled roar. Lombardi didn't groan any more.
When he stalked the other five bodies, administering thundering coups de grace to those who were doubtful casualties, Nova finally had to turn away.
Then, suddenly, never having seen death at close range, surely not death as violent and vengeful as this, her stomach betrayed her. And Nova shot from the car, staggered to a nearby thicket. Where she viciously and lengthily voided her stomach.
Karo was waiting when she was finished. The box had been transferred to the Cadillac's trunk, he was just closing it when Nova turned. And as she staggered toward him-
Karo conducted a last survey of the littered terrain with his flashlight, and Nova was treated to a close-up of violent death. Even more stomach-churning: The man who'd held the drugs, one bag on the ground beside him. The other, ruptured, spilled onto the sand, partially underneath his chest-a thick gravy of blood and heroin.
Karo grimly, fastidiously wiped his fingerprints off the .38 revolver with his handkerchief, dropped it into the sand.
Nova wheeled, ran, got into the car.
"What's going to happen?" she quaked as he entered, kicked the engine to life. "Won't the police...."
"The police'll find this mess tomorrow," he said softly. "Unless that lover's lane bunch heard the commotion." He expertly backed the Cad out of the space, headed back toward Tucson. "By then I'll be a thousand miles away from here. You'll be back home with your husband. You'll be free of this taint once and for all."
"But the car, Lombardi's house. Won't the police come looking? If they find anything that might involve me, you...."
"Don't fret, child. Karo's been in jams before; he knows how to handle this. When I pull out there'll be no traces."
"And what ... will they think when they find ... those dead bodies?"
Karo laughed softly. "What would you think? They'll think syndicate, they'll think double cross.
They'll know somebody got away. But they won't know who. None of them boys ... sure's hell ... ain't gonna tell them."
"The money ... Won't those New York people come looking for you?"
"Most likely. But they'll have to find me first. I figure I've got that coming to me. It'll help very nicely in getting a fresh start someplace." He reached over, took her hand gently. "But get this, Nova. No matter what happens, you're clean. I'll never tell them you were in on this. You don't ever have to worry again."
They drove slowly, cautiously. "Go home," he continued. "Straighten out, get right with the world. Count your blessings; don't go traipsin' after things you don't really want."
They entered the area where the parkers were, found them still there, busy with their own affairs, the sound of the gunfire muffled, contained by the canyon, obviously not carrying this far.
Nova heard a shrill giggle erupt from one of the cars, smiled softly, gratefully. The Cadillac glided on.
Then they were out of the park, they were on the main road, heading back into Tucson.
When they reached the city, they kept to feeder streets, stayed off the bright, main avenues as much as possible. There were two bullet holes in the car's left side, they didn't wish to have any patrol car become curious.
Then, at long last, they were on Jefferson Drive. It was the end of the line; it was good-bye. Karo parked, extinguished the lights. The motor still idled.
"I'm sorry, Nova," he said humbly, "about my part in all this. I never wanted to hurt you, remember that."
"I know," she sighed, her voice on the verge of tears. "I understand. You did the best you could...."
"Thank you for that, child." He turned to her, foolishly, self-consciously held out his hand to her. "Be careful. Keep your nose clean."
Then the hot tears-tears of gratitude, of relief-tears celebrating rebirth of hope-came pouring out. And Nova crowded that black head to her, she kissed hysterically, she hugged in gasping spasm. "Thank you, Karo," she blubbered. "I won't forget you. I'll never forget what you did for me. Thank you...."
Embarrassed, he disengaged her. "Go now, child. I'll never forget you either. I'll consider you one tiny star in my crown. Be good now, hear?"
Then Nova scrambled from the car, barely able to see the walk beneath her. She reeled, stood, caught her balance. "Good-bye, Karo. God bless you. Be careful."
He leaned forward, waved softly. "Bye, Nova."
Then the big car leaped forward. Nova watched it out of sight, knew he was going back to Lombardi's house. If there were any loose ends-
Now, her eyes blurring anew, she turned, began walking toward home. Her heels clattered loudly on the night pavement. Her mind hurried ahead, formulated an alibi, she prayed Lloyd was late getting home tonight.
And as she saw her home, felt the crushing joy swell inside her, she walked faster. Free, free, she raged. Another chance.
Now she ran, not caring if she was observed. She ran, ran-
CHAPTER TWELVE
Trying to tuck the twins into bed, Nova often thought, was like trying to pick up slippery eels with boxing gloves. She no sooner had Janice put down for the night than Jennifer was up, kneeling at the end of her bed staring out the window. "Jennifer...." she scolded softly.
"I want to see the snow," the touseled towhead girl said. "It's so pretty."
"I want to see the snow too," Janice said popping up, jumping onto Jenny's bed, a cute bundle of furry flannel in her snuggy pajamas.
And Nova melted, capitulated before the twins' irresistible charm, she sat heavily on Jenny's bed, gathered the tiny girls into her arms, sat looking out at the wet popcorn flakes that were splattering so softly against the glass. The room was dark; it was almost 10:10 and she'd come to tuck them in, quiet their happy gigglings.
Now who's getting sandbagged? Nova thought, feeling the warmth of this indescribable love bloat her. Who's tucking who in?
"The snow's pretty," Janice announced gravely, as if the phenomenon was something she'd discovered all by herself. "I like it when it snows."
Nova saw the trees outside, stark and bare against the winter terrain. She saw the blurred lights in the house down the block. "Would you believe it," she said, "if I told you that Mommy once lived where there was no snow? Never, all year round?"
"No, Mommy," Jennifer disbelieved. "That can't be. I wouldn't like that. How did Santa Claus ever find you?"
Nova thought back to those days in Tucson, shivered slightly. "He didn't mostly," she said, the import of her statement lost on the three-year-olds, of course.
"That would be terrible," Janice concluded. "Do you think if it keeps on snowing, Santa won't be able to find us this Christmas?" And not even waiting for an answer: "How many days until Christmas, anyway?"
"Five days," Nova replied. "You go to sleep tonight, and then four more nights. And then when you wake up it'll be Christmas morning."
"On," Jenny said sadly. "It seems so far away."
"It'll be here before you know it."
"I hope he brings my Pitiful Pearl doll," Janice said.
"And my toy piano." Jennifer added. Then they were off in their piping voices, running down their list of Christmas "gimme's." Nova smiled contentedly, let her thoughts drift.
Over a year had passed since Tucson. She and Lloyd had moved in November. The evil memories of that city too much with her, Nova had promoted the return to Indiana. Which move Lloyd, homesick, had readily agreed to. Not even the cut in salary as he changed jobs deterred him.
The house was smaller, they didn't have as many new things as they'd like, money was tighter. But what did it matter if the snug home overflowed with happiness and love the like of which neither of them had ever known? Since the children-
It was her most fervent thanksgiving prayer every hour of every day. And especially at services on Sunday. As she sought to make amends for the woman she'd once been, fought to be strong, resist temptation. They'd been so lucky getting the twins, a matter of being in the right place at the right time. They'd legally adopted them, would die rather than lose them now. The girls had filled a gaping hole in their lives-it seemed they'd never even been alive without them. Certainly they occupied Nova's every waking moment, left her little time for unhealthy self-pity.
Or time for guilty memories either. Nova rarely thought of Tucson these days, there were times when it all seemed a hellish nightmare that had never really happened at all.
It was as Karo Brown had promised. There were no repercussions of any sort; he'd covered their trail well. Granted, there was great public hue and cry when the desert slayings hit the front pages of the Tucson papers. But though she'd lived in terror for weeks after, there had never been the slightest threat to her newfound security and happiness. She'd never heard of or from Karo from that day to this.
If she ever remembered Tucson, it was to wonder what had happened to Karo, to pray that wherever he was, he was all right.
Which is not to say that the cataclysmic happenings there, the desperate jeopardy into which she'd placed her life, had cured Nova completely. As much as she hated herself for the intrinsic weakness, there were still times when she was aroused by sight of a new man, a chance encounter, there were times when that old urgency returned fullblown.
Those were not good times, easy times.
But every day she grew stronger, she was that much more reconciled. She had a loving husband, she had these beautiful children, she had this joy and quiet contentment. It was enough.
And when the urge became overburdening-She had only to think of Lloyd finally finding out about her (she'd never had the strength to reveal her shameful past), and in addition, to think of the disgrace she'd bring on her children. She had but to imagine them watching with grave, wondering eyes as she rutted in some bed with a total stranger, and she was sickened to the depths of her being.
There were reservations-there were compensations.
She was growing stronger every day.
"Mommy," Jennifer interrupted her reverie, "Janice's gone to sleep."
Nova's heart tumbled painfully to look down, see the small, trusting smile on Janice's face as she hung in her arms, deep in sleep. "Be very quiet," she told Jenny, "Let's not wake sister up. Climb back into bed now. Mommy'll cover you both...."
She looked back one last time, saw Jenny, fighting sleep herself, wave feebly at her. She stood in the silent room, heard the splat of the snow on the window. She felt weak suddenly. If ever a woman should fall on her knees, give thanks-she thought.
But she did nothing of the kind. Instead she left the twins' bedroom, stealthily went downstairs. Where, the house dark, she fourd Lloyd sitting in the living roam staring into the guttering ember in the fireplace.
He chuckled teasingly at her. "How's the great earth mother? Still tolerating no nonsense from those two? Firm and unyielding?"
Nova sank into his arms, nuzzled his neck. "Don't, baby. Don't poke fun. I can't help it. They're so adorable."
"You're so adorable too." He sighed ponderously. "I don't know what we did without them. Life seems so different."
"Are you happy, darling?"
"More happy than I have any right to be. And you?"
She crowded closer. "Happy, happy...."
They sat for a long time, staring at the dying fire, saying nothing. And when Lloyd's hand finally came up, gently lifted one of her breasts, she sighed, trembled hard. "Darling...."
"Could I interest you in a little something tonight?" he asked. "I haven't been taking care of my baby lately."
Nova instantly wanted him. "No, you haven't. I've begun to wonder whether I've lost my sex appeal."
"That'll be the day." He shuddered, held her so tightly she couldn't breathe. "I love you, angel, I'll never get tired of you."
"I love you, Lloyd."
Shortly they rose. Nova waited while Lloyd scattered the embers. Then they climbed the stairs.
They kissed and embraced in their bed, Nova felt the waves of heat seemingly rise up, march across her limp body in regimental array. And when Lloyd began to love her in that maddening way of his-
She knew that this was enough for her, it would forever be sufficient. She would be strong, she would be a constant wife. Forever and ever.
Shortly, as Lloyd's passion got to him, as he turned in the bed, let his lips wander, she sighed, praised his prowess as a lover. As a man. She carressed his hair.
She became wanton to her husband, she thrilled him, made him proud with her transfiguring release. Tonight she wasn't satisfied with one. She wanted more.
And felt proud herself, felt no remnant of guilt or shame. For the love between a man and his wife-There are no rules, no inhibitions, all is sacred. She was happy, she was fulfilled. The golden doors seemingly kept opening, one after another.
Opening and opening.
She knew love. In its ultimate, deepest sense. She knew rebirth, the beginning of a new time on earth.