The plight of the hapless divorcee in contemporary American life is vividly illustrated in this poignant novel by William Davis. Reno, the supposed Mecca for the quickie divorce, is presented in all its splendor-the splendor of the damned. All the elements of the bright lights, the exciting, but dangerous gamblers, the world of political intrigue are all present and well denned.
Mr. Davis takes the story of only one of the faceless women who each year flock to his "Biggest little city in the world," and presents her as a live, feeling human being to the reader. It is not a nice story, as nice stories go, but it is a true story. I true story in the sense that it depicts the danger and pitfalls that so many of these desperate women encounter as they search for the Holy Grail of freedom from whatever their matrimonial problems may be. The young Joan Carpenter's story may or may not be typical, but it does typify, in a very real sense, the things that do go on, the things that are happening.
Most women who do arrive there are penniless, just as Joan was and are forced to take any kind of employment that is available to them in order to pay for the matrimonial mistake they have made or have had forced upon them. This employment is not often one that they would accept under normal circumstances, but divorce is never a normal circumstance, and they seldom have choice. As a result, they quite often end up as part of the local Reno scene for years to come, either as outright prostitutes, or as gambling addicts not openly practicing the sale of their bodies but often times drifting in and out of it in order to earn another stake to return to the tables.
Perhaps the essential value of Mrs. Davis's book is that it does illustrate the necessity for a change in the majority of our state divorce laws. If it were easier and more practical for a hopeless marriage to be dissolved in the home surroundings of a woman, she would be less-likely, in her lonely desperation, to drift into unpleasant situations such as Joan Carpenter does.
We, the Publishers, deeply and sincerely hope that the message, so soundly presented within these pages shall not go unheeded by the Legislators guiding and shaping this great land of ours and that they, the people who are in a position to do the most, shall do something constructive about the present situation regarding divorce and the grim ramifications surrounding its present complexities.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER 1
The mid-summer storm fell in dark diagonals across the towering office building. On the tenth floor, a man stood by the window of his private office, obliquely staring at the cars and buses as they inched their way with difficulty down the already inadequate main street of the San Francisco financial district.
The muffled buzz of the intercom sounded and he turned away from the window and picked up the receiver.
"Mr. Carpenter," the metallic voice of his secretary broke his pensive mood.
"Yes, Estelle," he answered, holding tightly to the black instrument, "did you get the reservation?"
"There's a six o'clock flight on Western Airlines from International. It's the only one open from Reno in the morning."
"Okay...book me on it. And see if you can make arrangements for a car."
He placed the receiver slowly back in its cradle, grateful that he was alone again with no one to intrude on his thoughts.
Damn, he thought miserably, how in the hell did this happen? He picked up the telegram for the tenth time and scanned over the abbreviated sentences, hardly believing its contents.
The brief message informed him that his wife, Joan, was in Reno going through the legal processes of ending their two-year marriage. Why did telegrams always sound so cold, he thought, and why didn't she at least write or call him...or give him some kind of a chance to explain what happened at the party the other night.
Not that women could understand the ways of men when it came to sex, or vice versa. But the cold fact did remain that Joan had caught him making love to their next door neighbor, Gail Martin. The panorama of events were still sharp in his mind, too real and too close for him to remember it without a deep flush of guilt.
He knew that if he could just have a chance to talk to Joan and convince her that the whole thing was little more than an absurd indiscretion on his part...and that he loved her...there might be a chance to save their marriage. He didn't want to lose her. Even with the problems they had been having, she was still the most wonderful woman he had ever known-the thought of what she meant to him, the unbearable pain if he lost her, brought hot stinging tears to his eyes. He brushed them away fiercely and tried to will his mind into blankness.
He reached behind him to the portable bar and poured himself a vodka tonic, downing it with a few short gulps. The second drink was nursed more slowly as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts about how the whole thing really started and exactly what he would tell Joan when he found her in Reno...if he could find her. She'd left no forwarding address.
When he thought back over the past few months, he could almost pinpoint when the trouble first began. Joan was getting restless with the role of suburban housewife and was anxious to start a family, but he wasn't ready, not yet. He wanted to secure his position in management, pay off a few bills and then continue life in a logical pattern.
But Joan stubbornly refused to listen to his arguments, and became more difficult to live with as the weeks passed. At the time their quarrels had been short but constant, but they soon increased in intensity. And, he reasoned, if he didn't love her so much, he would have been tempted to move out. Most of all, Joan resented the fact that his job kept him at work sometimes until late at night; other nights he would have to lock himself up in the study to finish the work for the following day.
Up until that one last night, he'd been faithful to Joan, although he knew a lot of his friends at work were not so concerned with their sanctimonious wedding vows. To be honest with himself, he had to admit that he never met Joan's equal before or after their marriage. Never really desired another woman, not after their first date together.
It had been the night of Gail Martin's party. His marriage to Joan was at its lowest ebb, pushing in at him from all sides, and building into a pressure that had to find an outlet before the inevitable explosion.
He had come home from work, completely exhausted by an unusually tiring day, and Joan had told him that she'd accepted an invitation to the party for both of them. He'd argued at first that he was too tired but it had only evolved into another fight and finally he'd given in and agreed to go, though her unfeeling insistence had put him into an even worse mood.
He remembered at the party being bored and annoyed by the noisy crowd that congregated at Gail's that evening, while Joan cheerfully circulated through them, leaving him alone with his drink.
Joan worked in an ad agency before they were married, and was used to the cocktail circuit. She enjoyed talking to the group of pseudo-literary types that Gail always gathered around when she entertained.
The clamor in the living room was deafening; ribbons of cigarette smoke were heavy in the air, in spite of the open doors and windows, and those who weren't dancing crowded three-deep around the portable bar. Above the loud buzz of conversation, the stereo blared loudly away at the latest twanging rhythm of the psychedelic beat.
He accepted a second drink when the hired butler approached him with a loaded tray, but remained on the outskirts of the crowd, too weary to join in social combat.
He touched his lips to the rim of the glass, drinking its content in slow motion, unconsciously turning the rim with each new sip. The icy vodka burned at the back of his throat, overwhelming the fruity taste of the orange. The tranquilizing effect of the liquid was quick and effective, and already he could begin to feel the muscles at the base of his neck relaxing, the tension slackening.
Across the room, Gail Martin was talking to a group of men...all deeply engrossed in what she was saying. Small wonder, Bill thought, studying the lines of her body so neatly outlined by the silk jersey dress which clung to the fleshy curves of her buttocks and breasts, accentuating her sensuous and desirable body.
Gail had moved next door to Bill and Joan several months before, leasing the old Carter place for a year. She was from the East Coast, somewhere around New York, and came to California after divorcing her husband and receiving a huge property settlement. His thoughts were interrupted as he turned and found her staring at him.
She flashed a smile to him from across the room. He flushed, not realizing at first that it had been he that had been staring at her. He smiled back and emptied his second drink, then someone shoved another full glass in his hand. His eyes wandered back to Gail, her back was to him now, and he was glad, Gail wouldn't need that much encouragement, he knew. The booze was getting to him, though, his eyes were wandering now over the tempting outline of her firm, full buttocks.
And her long auburn air was sensual too, he half chuckled to himself. It was brushed casually up high and away from her temples..., natural the way he liked it. It flowed loosely down to shoulder length, and he noticed now that she had a habit of tossing her hair from side to side as she addressed each of her male admirers. She was the type of woman that exuded wild, uninhibited sex, he thought, always speaking breathlessly as if she had just run a mile, and always looking right into your pupils while she talked.
In a the few months that she had moved to San Francisco, Gail had wasted little time in meeting what she considered the most interesting people. Gail seemed to have a flair for drawing these arty people close to her, she also had the money to keep them around indefinitely...contributing to benefits and throwing parties like this one for her own amusement. Bill wondered now why Gail had invited him and Joan; no one else in their neighborhood was present.
He made a half-effort attempt to move around the crowd, talking to a few of the men on the fringe. The conversation was limited; they knew little about the mutual funds business, and he of the arts. Usually they lapsed into silence, contemplating their drinks, or drafting into a new conversation with the nearest group of people.
Others gazed at him with a frozen grin; a remote look, nodding and smiling at appropriate intervals. In spite of the alcohol now pulsing through him, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable and tense with such a sophisticated set; he now regretted coming at all, and wanted to leave with Joan as soon as possible. But she was no where in sight.
Then he noticed that Gail Martin had turned away from the men she was talking to and was trying to quiet the boisterous crowd so that she could make an announcement. Slowly the room hushed as the people realized their hostess was trying to get their attention.
"Alright, everyone out to the patio," Gail announced. "And no fair sitting next to your own wife or husband," she added with a giggle.
The tall, statuesque redhead led the crowd outside to their places at the huge redwood garden table. The air was filled with the spicy aroma of charcoal-cooked beef and two men were working behind the large barbeque pit near a long and loaded buffet table.
Gail continued to give seating instructions, with her typical air of self assurance that was marred only slightly by the soft slur to her words. Bill could tell she was feeling no pain.
Joan had finally broken away from the crowd to join him, but he was still annoyed at being dragged to the party and he purposely ignored her.
"Joan, you sit here next to Sam," Gail said, suddenly appearing at their side, "and Bill, I'm putting you next to me at the head of the table."
Joan Carpenter tried to hide the anger welling up inside her as she sat down next to Sam Bronson. First, Bill had acted as if she wasn't even there and then he'd followed Gail Martin with his eyes like an eager puppy.
She felt a wave of revulsion pass through her as she sat down-of all the people present, Sam Bronson was the most obnoxious...a loud, vulgar man and insensitive to anyone but himself. When he wasn't expounding on his used car business, he had the habit of embarrassing his trapped audience with crude, off-color jokes.
Joan glanced over at Bill, but he wasn't even looking in her direction. Instead, he was sitting on the other side of Gail and laughing loudly at something she'd said. She could let us all in on what's so funny, Joan thought sourly.
As if reading her thoughts, Sam Bronson reached over and nudged her with his elbow. "Nothing stops Gail after she's had a few drinks," he chuckled in her ear. His insinuation was obvious.
Joan leaned away from him, trying to escape from the rancid smell of his sour whiskey breath. "You seem to have your same one-track mind tonight, Sam," she said.
"Honey, I've got a one-track mind all the time, just like our friend, Gail, over there," Sam replied slurringly. He grinned obscenely at Joan and continued eating, undaunted by her look of disgust.
He took another gulp of his drink and slammed it back on the table, and belched. His watery blue eyes openly surveyed Joan's lush torso that pushed against the sheer material of her summer dress. His pupils were now dilated from the alcohol and his body exuded the animal smell of stale sweat.
Joan squirmed away from him a few inches, and began nibbling at the food on her plate. She hadn't noticed before now that Sam was so drunk, and she wanted to finish her meal quickly to escape from him and his lewd, suggestive remarks. His implication about Gail might be true, she thought, but she wasn't worried about Bill...even though they had argued just before the party, she trusted him completely.
"Finish up that steak, Honey," Sam slurred. "I'm going to mix you up one of my special .drinks."
Joan could feel his fat thigh push up against hers as if by accident, and she cringed inwardly at the thought of his nearness.
"No...I'm fine, Sam. No more drinks, please."
"Hey, Bill," he called out across the table. "You little wife over here refuses to be sociable with me. Do you think she needs another drink?"
Bill looked up from Gail, mildly surprised at Sam's intrusion.
"Well..." He hesitated and looked over at Joan.
"Of course she wants another drink, Sam," Gail laughed. "Why, the party's just started."
Joan flushed a jealous twinge as Gail's hand reached over and patted Bill on the knee, but dismissed the feeling quickly. No point in getting jealous, she thought, besides Gail was a demonstrative female, always accentuating each point of her conversation with theatrical flair. Often, Bill had joked to her about Gail in private, but now she noticed that he seemed to be enjoying their conversation, laughing and talking with Gail in his old relaxed manner...a feeling she had missed sharing with him for months.
Gail held up the two empty glasses in front of her and Bill.
"Here, Sam, while you're up, bring Bill and me some fresh ones."
Bill laughed and nodded at Sam, ignoring Joan's pointed stare.
Sam winked at Joan over the rim of his glass, and let out a low, deep chuckle. On impulse, he leaned forward and breathed heavily in Joan's ear, "See there, Honey," he rasped, "everybody's gonna have a good time tonight. You just stick by ole
Sam...uh...it doesn't seem like your hubby minds too much."
Joan blushed and looked down at her hands, wringing them in frustration and anguish as Sam got up to refill the empty glasses. She could feel the holt salty tears begin to form at the rims of her eyes but turned her head, not wanting to give her husband and Gail the satisfaction of seeing her distress.
It was obvious to her now that Bill was punishing her for forcing him to come to the party, but that was no reason for him to humiliate her like this in front of Gail and the others.
When Sam returned with the drinks, she accepted it and affected a grateful smile, determined to show Bill that she was having a good time in spite of the way he and Gail were acting.
She gulped the drink down quickly as Sam placed himself even closer to her this time...she could feel his side pressing heavily against hers and the heat of his massive thigh as he crushed it against her leg. He kept rocking against her as if he thought his touch would arouse her.
Joan glanced at him out of the comer of her eye and saw the way his eyes continued to rove hungrily over her body, and she could see that he was mentally undressing her. She tried to ignore his lewd stares, but shuddered at the thought of his thick hairy hands touching her body. She was glad the second drink had dulled her senses slightly or she never would have been able to stand being so close to him.
By this time, almost everyone had finished eating and had begun to drift inside and Joan watched angrily as Bill rose and obediently followed Gail in with the others.
She looked back at Sam, smiling boldly at him though her thick fringe of lashes. Two could play the same game, she thought angrily, even if it would have to be with a boor like Sam.
"Sam, would you mind taking me back to the living room, I feel like dancing."
"Why, sure Honey...anything your li'l heart desires," he said, outwardly amused by her quick response to his advances. He'd have to fix her another drink fast, he thought, there was nothing he wanted more than the opportunity of plunging himself between those luscious thighs of hers, and the more she drank the better his chances were.
Christ, he thought, if I could only be so lucky.
Joan let Sam steer her back to the living room not bothering to look for Bill. Once inside, she'd be able to get away from Sam and circulate with the other guests until Bill was ready to leave.
"Alright, baby, it's time to do your stuff." Sam took her drink away from her and set it on the bar, gyrating his flabby hips to the rhythm of the music. Joan stiffened her body, sickened by his closeness, and tried to keep him at a safe distance while they danced. She knew it was too late to back out now, but she desperately wished that Bill would come and rescue her. She always felt out of place without Bill beside her, and especially now that the party was getting louder and wilder by the minute.
Finally she broke away from Sam's clutching grasp and made her way to the bar and finished her drink. He stumbled clumsily along behind her and caught her just as she set down the empty glass.
"Sam, be a dear," she said, turning to him, "and make me another drink."
She watched him as he pushed his way behind the bar. I've got to get away from him, she thought, and hurried over to the other side of the room by an open window and fresh air. But a crowd of people had the same idea and joined her and soon, even against the window, she felt like she was suffocating.
She turned away and made her way back to the hub of the party, but by now the smoke and noise were overwhelming, and she could see Sam standing on the other side of the room with two drinks in is hands, searching for her. Joan knew then that she had to get away from the party and him, if only for a few moments, she couldn't stand the thought of another confrontation with Sam.
She maneuvered her way through the long hallway to Gail's huge bedroom. It was dark inside, but Joan didn't bother to turn on the lights, the welcoming dark coolness was soothing and peaceful. Her head ached, and she thought about looking around for some aspirin, but decided instead to lie down for a brief rest.
She guided her hands across the smooth satin bedspread and stretched out on the bed. The shrieks of laughter now semed far away, and the music, muted and distant, was punctuated now and then momentarily by the crash of a glass. All she needed was a few moments of rest before returning to the clamor of the party and Bill.
Minutes after following Gail inside Bill found himself alone again as she circulated through the party, and he began to look around for Joan but couldn't see her anywhere.
He stared absently at the ice cubes in his glass, took a final swallow, and pushed through the crowd for another drink, though he felt the effort was hardly worth it.
The next moment, the strong aroma of sweet perfume filled his nostrils, and Gail Martin was at his side.
She looked up at him, smiling boldly through her thick fringe of lashes.
"Bill Carpenter, you look bored...how about a dance." Her eyes were laughing, her air of confidence was only daunted by the slight slur at the end of each breathless word she spoke. Bill could tell she was mildly drunk.
"okay," Bill smiled. He was glad she had come to his rescue.
He pulled her close to him, moving with her to the slow beat of the music and marveling at her round softness against the hardness of his own body. Other dancers around them pushed up against them forcing them firmly together. Gail began to undulate her hips softly against him as she locked herself to him.
Her breath came in short, warm rasps close to his ear and she looked a little woozy, but the pressure of her body against him remained secure and unyielding. He flushed suddenly, feeling the growing hot pain between his loins; she was wonderful and exciting to hold and the sudden realization of her appeal disturbed him.
The music suddenly shifted to a faster tempo, and Gail pulled away from him.
"It's hot in here," she said, "let's go outside, I'll bring along some fresh drinks."
Outside, Bill watched Gail as she approached him with the drinks in her hands. She leaned very close to him as she set them down on the table, revealing the lush cleavage of her full, fleshy bosom. She seemed to sense his eyes roaming over her in the dim light, and turned slightly to the side so that he got a quick glimpse of the profile of her firm, thrusting breasts.
Bill wanted to reach out and touch them at that moment, but held back. Other than Joan's, Gail had the most beautiful pair' of breasts he had ever seen.
"We'd better go back inside now," he said, "Joan will be looking for me."
"Nonsense," Gail replied, "Joan's having a good time inside, besides I like a man who isn't afraid to live a little." She whispered the words softly, seductively, pushing her outline against his hot body.
"Take it easy, Gail," he whispered, his voice labored. He knew he sounded flustered and embarrassed, like a school boy on his first outing with a girl-that was the way Gail made him feel. "I don't really want to go back in..." he hesitated, "it's so damn hot in there."
Gail nodded. Even at this time of the night, the summer heat hugged the suburban hills in a warm, smothering heat that promised no quick relief.
"Why don't we do for a quick swim, then, "she suggested, nodding towards the pool. "I've got some extra suits in the pool house, you won't even have to go home to change."
"Well, I don't know..." Bill didn't want to admit to Gail that he was getting worried about Joan.
"Oh pooh, Bill Carpenter," Gail puckered her ripe full lips in a tiny pout, and stood up as if to leave him. "If you won't go in with me, I'll go by myself." She walked slowly towards to the pool-house, swaying her soft, curved hips seductively.
Hell, why not? he thought. Joan was inside having a good time without him. Why shouldn't he go for a swim. The entire evening had been long and dreary for him, even this short encounter with Gail had been on the boring side, though he had to admit he felt a strong animal attraction for her.
Maybe it was the vodka that now numbed his senses, or maybe it was because he was losing patience with Joan's constant nagging. Whatever, the reason, he decided to forget the others and join Gail in the cool wetness of the darkened pool. At that moment, he couldn't think of any other place he'd rather be.
Moments later he had changed into a swimsuit and was outside by the edge of the pool, watching Gail's supple outline as she effortlessly glided through the dark, shimmering water.
"Come on in, slowpoke," she teased. Then giggled out loud when she saw his bathing suit slip down on his hips.
Bill blushed, pulling he over-sized suit back up to his waist. "It's a little large," he admitted, "but it was the closest fit I could find in there."
She laughed again and splashed her hands across the water's surface, spraying his heated limbs with a cool spray.
He dove in after her, the water was tepid, but soothing to his body after the summer heat. She kicked off in front of him, taking long leisurely strokes, just keeping a few feet in front of him as they circled around the pool.
Her wet limbs moved speedily and gracefully; they glistened like silverfish in the night light above her. Her creamy bosom was just barely concealed by the brief bikini bra which plastered next to her soft, pliant skin now in a wet, almost transparent mold.
Bill moaned under his breath. The desire to touch her was almost pure torture.
Gail slowed her pace to a crawl, giving Bill a pure sexual thrill as he moved up to swim beside her, matching her movements, stroke for stroke. She smiled slowly over at him as the tiny ripples of water seeped between the crack in her breasts, making them jiggle and wobble from the pressure.
She looks like a beautiful, naked sea goddess, Bill thought. He could see the hard outline of her peaked and pointed nipples through the almost transparent cloth of her bikini.
Gail reached the corner of the pool first and grabbed on to the porcelain edge, heaving and panting and laughing at him at the same time. She braced her elbows on the pool's edge and kicked out at him as he approached her. He submerged himself deep beneath the surface and glided quickly up under her flailing limbs, grabbing tight onto her ankles, and pulling her under into his arms.
He could feel the hardness of his body over her soft and pliable one, crushing his torso all over the lush contours of her unresisting breasts, straining against with all his power. God, I must be drunk, he thought, but he didn't care. Gail had teased him long enough and it was time to collect payment. Nothing mattered to him now except conquering this female animal and filling her luscious, teasing body with his hot sperm of desire.
They both bobbed up from the deep coolness of the water, gasping for air and gratefully sucking it into their tortured lungs. Bill treaded water as he reached one and behind Gail's back and ran it down the smooth contours of her velvet skin. He stroked downwards to her buttocks, wet and rounded beneath the taut flimsy bikini.
He moved his free hand up around her body and roughly caressed the curved fullness of her voluptuous breasts, feeling the hard erectness of her nipples. He moved his hand slowly over them, kneading them like a baker preparing soft bread for the oven.
A husky whisper of pleasure blew from her parted lips, and with the agility of an aquatic dancer, she wrapped her long, tanned legs around his hips, reaching for his shoulders for balance.
Suddenly and harshly he kissed her, biting at her wet, soft lips as her body molded to his. She tightened her thighs around him, dropping slightly lower until the swelling hardness in his crotch made contact with the answering heat of the V-shaped mound between her legs.
"Oh, God, Bill," she gasped, let's go back to the pool house."
* * *
The pool was quiet and still again when Sam Bronson walked outside to the coolness of the patio, drunk and a little confused. He had searched everywhere in the house, and after realizing that Joan Carpenter was purposely avoiding him, had angrily come outside to cool off. He didn't like the idea of being dumped by a broad, not even one as gorgeous as Joan. He took his drink and blundered through the thick growth of hedge to the path that led out to the pool. He was a little dizzy from all the alcohol and decided to curl up for a while on one of the lounge chairs by the pool and finish his drink before going back home.
As he passed by the pool house, he thought he heard a faint moan, coming from behind the slightly open door.
Christ, he thought, I really must be stoned tonight. I'm beginning to hear things. I'd better clear my head before trying to drive back.
He sprawled out on a deck lounge, letting his bulky form sag against it, a blissful smile covering his face as he felt the canvas give way under the pressure of his weight. He set his empty glass down on the cold cement, breathing in the fresh night air and contemplating his bad luck that evening.
That little bitch, Joan, sure had a good fuck coming to her, he thought, the way she ditched him tonight. If he could find her now, he'd tell her what he thought of her teasing ways, but he had searched all over the house for her earlier, and finally gave up...convinced that she had gone home.
He closed his puffy eyes and lay there listening to the night sounds around him. A few night birds chirped and fluttered around the trees at the back of the yard while to the right of him, the muffled buzz of the party continued, its momentum at a steady pitch.
He cocked his head to the side as another strange noise filtered through to him. It was very close, and he opened his eyes, straining them through the darkness as if to hear it more distinctly.
Sam listened intently, trying to pinpoint the destination of the soft, animal grunts. He held his breath as the gasping became more pronounced, lying motionless at first, then softly crept from the chair towards the direction of the pool house.
As he drew nearer, the sounds became more intense in volume, unmistakable now was the soft moan and cursing of a male in torture, wet flesh slapping against wet flesh. His heart pounded in sheer excitement as he scurried up to the slightly open door and peered inside the pool house.
On the rubber mat at the far corner of the room he could see two nude bodies fucking and pulling at each other as though they were engaged in a furious tug-of-war. A small night light burned dimly by them, and Sam could clearly see the couple as they continued their lovemaking unaware of his presence.
Well, well, he mused to himself, Bill with Gail Martin. He knew that Gail was attracted to Bill from the way she hung on his every word during dinnei, but he was mildly surprised to see that she had seduced him so quickly. Gail was a sensuous female, he knew from his own experiences with her, ready to take a tumble whenever the mood struck her.
As he watched them, Sam grinned lewdly to himself in the darkness. He was enjoying the ribald scene, like viewing a pornographic film, and he derived added enjoyment with the knowledge that Bill was with Gail instead of Joan. He wished that frigid wife of Carpenter's was here. It's too bad, he thought, perhaps being a spectator here would loosen her up a little and she'd get down off that goddam high horse of hers and let me teach her a thing or two!
He stood there quietly in the night for a few more minutes watching the wild, erotic scene in the corner and then moved softly away from the door. He was beginning to feel a little like a peeping torn, and besides, he thought bitterly, it wasn't very much fun watching someone else.
Sam Bronson walked softly back to the pool.
He stood by the shimmering water trying to decide whether to go inside and get another drink when he saw someone coming toward him down the path. He couldn't tell who it was at first, and then he recognized her. He had to stifle a choked laugh...it was Bill Carpenter's frigid little wife, he thought triumphantly. He waited in the semi-darkness for her to recognize him...
Joan Carpenter walked hesitantly down the cobbled path, trying not to trip in the darkness. She'd lain for almost half an hour in Gail's bedroom until her headache had subsided slightly and she'd felt reasonably sure that Sam Bronson had either left or found another target for his crude advances.
When she'd gotten downstairs, Bronson had been nowhere in sight, but then, neither had Bill. She'd asked several people and finally one had said that he'd seen him heading for the pool.
Now, Joan had begun to wonder if he hadn't been mistaken. It was so dark and quiet out here...then, she paused...there he was. She could see him sitting by the pool.
"Bill?" she called softly as she came closer. "Is that you over there? Darling, I've been looking..."
Her voice stopped abruptly as the man rose and she recognized the heavy form of Sam Bronson ambling towards her.
"Hi, honey," he slurred. "Where you been hiding?"
"Hello, Sam," she answered coldly. "Have you seen Bill? I-I'm ready to go home, and I can't find him anywhere."
"Now, you don't want to go home yet, doll," he chuckled lewdly. He laced his hand on her bare shoulder, her skin was smooth and softly tanned.
Joan cringed and stepped back away from, there was anger in her eyes, and a trace of fear. She turned from him without a word, shrugging his hand from her shoulder, and started back for the house. She knew she was afraid of Sam but didn't want him to know. He was like an animal, sensing her fear he would be capable of attacking like a nocturnal predator.
Without warning, Sam grabbed at Joan's arm, but missed and caught his blunt fingers on the strap of her summer dress. The strap snapped at she pulled away from him and the dress fell forward over her left breast, revealing the lacy cup of her strapless brassiere.
She gasped and lashed out at him, taking another step backwards-but he was closer to her now and he latched painfully onto both of her wrists, pinioning them tightly to the sides of her body. The inward pressure of his hands pushed her breasts forward to him, and as the cups of her bra buckled he could see the delightful sight of her rose-colored nipples. Their erotic nakedness drove him further, and his mouth hung open slackly and the saliva flowed freely around his tongue.
She tried to break away from him, tried to catch her breath and cry out, but he kept tearing at her dress until it pulled completely away from her chest and her bra slid lower, completely exposing her heaving breasts.
"Sam!...let me go..." she finally screamed. "LET ME GO!"
He only laughed huskily, his hot, raw breath searing her face, and then he grabbed with one hand for the straining fullness of her flexing buttocks.
When he pulled his hand downward she was able to break one arm free and lash out at him with all her might. Her tightly clenched fist caught him just below the ear, stunning him momentarily and making him lose his grip on her.
"You fucking bitch!" he screamed holding his head. He grabbed frantically for her but she'd ducked away and, almost stumbling as she tried to pull up her dress, began to run towards the path away from the pool.
"Hey! Wait a minute, Baby! I've got a little surprise for you!"
Something in his voice made her hesitate, and she stopped far enough away from him to be safe if he tried to catch her, but close enough to hear his added words.
"Joan, baby, if you think I'm bad, why don't you take a look in the pool house and see how wonderful your precious husband is!" Sam Bronson turned angrily away and walked around the pool to the driveway where his car was parked.
Joan stood motionless in the darkness, the meaning of his parting remark echoing in her ears. Then, slowly she turned and walked hesitantly toward the pool house. It seemed to beckon to her maliciously, a great dark menacing shadow looming ahead of her.. .
* * *
"...back to the pool house," Gail's suggestion thundered in Bill's ears as he climbed out of the pool and turned to give her a hand. He had to stifle an urge to run as he hurried her to the open and waiting door.
Moments later, she was in his arms again, in the darkness of the pool house. A deep groan erupted from somewhere within him as he pulled her roughly down onto the rubber mat, trying to kiss her and silently curse her for what she was making him do.
Gail was writhing beneath him, her body glistening like polished bronze, her mouth opened in an oval shape. Her thighs spread wide apart, and to each side of Bill's naked torso, as he removed the top of her bikini and threw it off to the side.
He leaned forward over her prostrate body, fastening his teeth and gently nibbling on the nipples of her heaving breasts. She cried out in the ecstasy of pain-filled pleasure, then lay back her body wide open for his pleasures. He let his coarse hands play over the softness of her thighs and hip, while he roughly jerked off the bottom of her wet swim suit...his lips continued to wetly caress the white throbbing mounds, each nipple peaked and pointed.
Bill sucked impatiently at each rising bud, bringing them to a rigid hardness, the soft flesh beneath them paled in contrast and involuntarily twitched in raw-nerved lust. He wanted to be in complete control of the writhing temptress beneath him-she had lead him this far, but from now on he would be the master...she would serve only as an object to satiate the torment that he lead him to his first act of adultery.
He was vaguely aware in the back of his thoughts, that both he and Gail were in a precarious situation, at any moment they could be discovered by one of the guests. What if Joan should wander by and see them like this, naked and going at each other like two wild animals in heat.
Strangely, the thought of his wife watching him making love to Gail, only served to incite his lust to newer heights. He convulsively reached forward, clasping his hands tightly around Gail's narrow waist, kneading at her belly, the flaccid surface sucking in the moment he pressed down on it.
The electrical contact of his touch on her brought a deep, low sigh from her parted lips. She raised her soft, glossy thighs, entwining her long legs firmly around his waist, still moaning and clinging to him passionately, exploring his body with her fingers as he explored hers.
Her hands fumbled in the darkness until they found the rigid hardness of his hardening penis spearing out from between his loins. She played and milked at it until the pressure in his balls became almost unbearable. But he didn't want it to happen so fast, he wanted to remain in control.
Bill moved his hands down over her thighs then pushed her hands back away from him, letting them fall back limply on the mattress. He could feel her, wet and open, beneath the soft sparse pubic hair that covered the slim folds of moist, giving flesh, but he wasn't ready to enter her yet.
"Nooooo...Bill...Please put it in," she moaned, her face now contorted as if in the throes of an unbearable pain.
"Take it easy baby," he choked, "I'm going to suck you between the legs."
"Oh darling, darling," she kept murmuring as he knelt forward and cupped each of her quivering buttocks in the palms of his hands. They were firm but like cascading velvet, through his wide-spread anger.
He buried his head deep between her open thighs, searching and probing with his tongue until he had found the moist opening beneath the plush mat of tantalizing pubic hair.
He could hear Gail's agonizing moans beneath him as he flicked his tongue against the softness of her sensitive clitoris, already her cuntal fluids ran freely, lubricating the pink, hot edge of her vaginal lips. She began to squirm and buck her hips against his face, now completely out of control, but he continued the lewd sucking, inwardly satisfied with his own power over her.
Jesus, he thought, she's really going out of her mind.
He wondered now how long he could hold his own self control, seeing her squirming like that, feeling her sex moistness, and smelling the rich female aroma of her secreting juices. He could feel the tautness of his flesh stretched over his stiffened cock and his inflated balls swung wildly between his legs.
Gail dug her sharp claws into his thick head of hair. "Turn upside down, darling," she whispered breathlessly, "I want to suck you too."
Obediently, Bill rolled over on his side and twisted around, as Gail snuggled close to his body, grabbing his long, thick shaft between her sinewy, tapered fingers. At her touch, he could feel a warm gush of erotic sensations engulf his whole being, making his penis swell to an even greater size.
She moved her lips forward and took the swollen head in her mouth, enclosing it in the warmth of her saliva, and licking at the hotness of it with her wet, slippery tongue. But she could not quench the fire now building up in the tip of his cock...the crudeness of the whole act enthralled him, he enjoyed watching his penis plunge in and out of her beautiful, aristocratic face, even though he realized that he was quickly losing control...if she didn't stop that wild sucking, his balls would explode their sperm deep into that tender, milking mouth of hers.
He stroked his fingers across the deep valley of her trim waist and back up to the meaty white flesh of her thighs, muttering obscenities and nuzzling her cunt with his lips. She lifted her leg, never stopping the maddening sucking, and clamped his face between the soft inner hollows of her thighs.
"Suck me harder," she coughed down at him, her body a mass of quivering nerves.
No one could pull them apart now, Bill thought, burying his whole face into the hot passage of her vaginal opening, nothing could stop them from completing this act of pure animal lust...he knew then that they had both lost all control of whatever inhibitions they might have possessed.
Gail slowly leaned away from Bill, her tongue and lips gradually releasing the throbbing organ that now resembled a fleshy poled extension of her face...nibbling and kissing the knob of it with sensuous pleasure.
"Ohhhhhh, that's wonderful darling," she murmured, now ready for his entrance into the burning depths of her thirsting body.
She rolled over on her back, still in a trance, her long auburn hair tangled and wet. She spread her legs wide apart giving him full access to her heaving, aching cunt, and gasped as the brim of his nose pushed down hard on the bud of her clitoris.
"My God," she gasped in a low, passion driven voice, "put it in me. I can't stand it any longer!"
Still kissing her vagina, Bill slowly moved his lips over the matted tangle of pubic hair to the soft base of her belly. When he kissed and bit her there, he could feel the inner flesh of her thighs begin to jerk against him in rapid spasms. Her torment brought a new pungent sharpness to her own arousal, and for a moment he wanted to pull away from her again and make her beg for it.
But his own hips began to writhe involuntarily against the soft hairy center of her crotch, and the wave of masochism passed quickly. The painful, startling pressure between his loins was now unbearable-he could feel his guts, knotted and tense, his balls were swollen and tingling.
She pulled his hands over each of her full, quivering breasts, and grabbed firmly to his waist, smacking his crotch hard against hers. She pressed the full of her body to him, as he leaned down and kissed her white throat, then her moist, full mouth. He squeezed gently at her tits, then harder and harder as the kiss mounted its intensity. She cried out, but he would not release his pressure even when she dug her sharp nails into the small of his back, breaking the skin there. The pain was sweet; he was ready to take her.
He feasted his eyes on her rounded hips as he leaned back to make his entrance, she was ready and eager. Her eyes gleamed up at him through the dim light, hot like a cat's, penetrating his thick lust. She was breathing heavily. In the haze of his passion, he pictured her then as a fleshy sacrifice on the flat stone slab of a shrine, quaking at the thought of her inevitable destiny.
Then, with a quick gasp, he drove his hardened penis deep into the warm, tight confines of her cunt, ramming forward into her full force without pause or hesitation. Her tunnel was warm and moist, and it clung snugly around his plunging rod like it was a part of himself, a graceful sucking sheath of warm quivering flesh.
Her legs danced gracefully against his sides, their soft, quivering flesh caressing his own, then locked firmly around his waist, giving him even deeper access to her hoc, wet cunt. The whole act that he was doing now was so different than when he was with Joan. With his wife, he had always held himself back, always fearing that he might offend her in some way. But with Gail, he felt free...she seemed to invite him in her silent way to use her in any way that would please him.
"Please...please..." she gurgled, urging him on, begging him and pumping her hips up stiff at him in wild abandonment.
His hips drove on, steady and sure, smacking into her hard, not caring about the pain he brought her. The moment was bitter sweet, with each of them driving their muscles onto the final relief.
She uttered a low animal moan, flexing her hips wildly to get a better grip on him. Her vagina was hot, and wide open like a giant hole in the crater of her open loins...she pushed in on her inner muscles, as if afraid she might lose the firm grip she had on his swollen shaft...she was almost there and her body bucked and twisted under him as though possessed by wild, driving demons.
He knew that she was about to come, the way the deep persistent moans erupted from her throat, the way she desperately clung to him as if he were about to die. One last time, he withdrew his cock from her opening, staring at the soft folds of pink flesh as they clung to his driving cock like a Venus fly trap.
Then he pushed into her again, slowly this time, feeling the inner folds of her channel enclose the tip of his penis once more, then give way to the hard pressure of his burrowing rod. She arched her smooth torso, pushing her huge tits against the firmness of his chest, and he began to pump into her at a faster pace.
The flooding heat started at the bottom of his loins, pushing up to his testicles as the great wave of passion drowned out the rest of the world. Now it was just him and Gail, and he was riding her out to the end. He could feel his sperm bloated balls smacking against her puckered anus, ready to burst at any moment when a sudden cool breeze hit his naked body.
The door to the pool house was wide open, and Joan was standing there, horror and disbelief on her face, and her body was trembling. She was staring at the two of them as if she were about to say something, but she didn't utter a word, just stood there as if riveted to the floor.
Bill stared up at his wife in shock, just as his balls exploded, shooting his hot sperm deep into Gail's writhing cunt. He was without power now to smother the deep groans of relief or stop the spastic movement of his hips and he continued to pump into Gail until the last drop of burning liquid burst free of his tortured balls.
His whole body quivered in trembling spasms, and he fell weakly onto Gail's arching body, as she too buckled beneath him in great, arcing heaves as she felt the flowing lava of his sperm merge with the urgency of her climax...
Bill buried his head against Gail's velvet shoulder as her body shook convulsively beneath his. Her movements jerked into stillness, but he still lay with his head hidden in her softness-there were no words, nothing that he could say...
Seconds later, the pool house door slammed with a frightening finality and everything was-quiet, except for the pounding that thundered in his ears...and the husky purring of Gail's breath.
CHAPTER 2
Joan Carpenter reached sleepily over to the travel alarm by her bed on the night stand, shutting off the persistent buzzing, with a quick flick of her forefinger. The ancient four-poster creaked loudly as she slumped back on the crumpled pillows again, still weary from a sleepless night of fighting her own anxieties, tormented thoughts of Bill and her ill-fated marriage dominating all else in her mind.
The strain of her present dilemma played cruelly on her mind, increased, even more by the dawn-lit dimness of the shabby motel room. With a sigh, she wriggled her long limbs over to the side of the bed and threw back the blanket, making no attempt to cover her graceful nudity. She stood up straight, arching her long smooth torso, and stretched long and hard against her cramped and aching muscles.
She walked over to the full length dressing mirror and grimly surveyed her reflection. Her delicate cameo complexion now void of makeup was as smooth as a baby's, except for the few finely etched lines of fatigue around her eyes and mouth. Small half-moon shadows appeared below her wide set blue eyes as she stepped closer to the mirror to take a more critical self-appraisal.
The deep shadows beneath her eyes did not surprise her. All night long she had drifted off to sleep, only to waken and find herself reaching over for Bill...and then in her half-conscious state, she would remember where she was and the still stark memory of what she had witnessed in the pool house that night at the party. Here in the solitude of the motel room, she had cried until her whole body ached and trembled with exhaustion...until she had no more strength or the will to remember. And then sleep would come again, only to be broken with another fitful interval of bitter memories. She kept seeing the horrible complacency of the lawyer's face as he drew up the divorce papers and told her they would be ready in a couple of days-and the cold finality of the telegram she had sent to Bill....
Dawn had brought some relief, but now she was faced with the problem of supporting herself during her stay in Reno, and she was not sure that her experience as a copywriter would be of any use in the gambling town; she would probably have to rely on what secretarial skills she picked up in college. She emptied her purse on the dresser recounting the bills and few bits of change that she had saved from her housekeeping expenses, calculating that she had just enough to see her through for a few days.
The morning coldness cleared her head and she hurried into the bathroom to get ready for her day of job hunting. She stepped inside the yellowed porcelain tub, closing the shower door behind her, and let the full burst of spray bounce against her nude body. The stimulation of the tepid water gradually warmed up her limbs, and she slowly turned around beneath it's hard pressure as if trying to wash away the memory of the nightmare she had experienced the night before.
Joan had heard stories of other unfaithful husbands, but that was always a distant thing, and except for their strained relationship these last few months she believed their marriage was near perfect...there was no doubt in her mind of Bill's love. But now she realized that her blind trust had made her the fool in the triangle, and wondered how long Bill and Gail had been playing behind her back.
She knew that last night her emotions had overcome her logic, but she was glad she came to Reno. After sending Bill the telegram, she knew it was too late to turn back, besides her pride wouldn't let her. What use would it be to try and live in the same house with Bill after seeing him naked and wrapped in that obscene embrace with Gail Martin, she thought bitterly.
The mental image of the two of them together brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she brushed them away with determination, and hurriedly dried off, knowing she would feel better when she was out of the gloomy room. The rough terry towel felt good against the dampness of her soft flesh, and she could slowly feel her composure returning now that the initial shock had worn off.
Before leaving, she surveyed herself once more in front of the full-length mirror, feeling detached as if she were viewing a stranger. Her conservative cut blue woolen suit draped softly around her lush contour, letting off the graceful long lines of her torso. She smoothed down a few loose strands of blonde hair, and now satisfied with her image, gratefully stepped out into the fresh morning air.
Later that same day, Joan climbed up the dusty, wooden stairs of an office building on the outskirts of Reno. She paused briefly to check the address hastily scrawled from the Want Ad section of the local paper, then continued to the top of the stairs. A glass-paneled door just to her right labeled in black blocked letters read.
EMMETT CASTLE INVESTIGATIONS When she entered, a loud buzzer sounded until the door closed behind her. The air-conditioned room was furnished with a practical brown leather couch, straddled on each side with two tall pole lamps.
One side of the wall was decorated with several framed seascape prints, and the other loaded with racks of magazines.
A middle-aged woman with sharp features poked her head around the corner of an inner office.
"Mrs. Carpenter?" She briefly inspected Joan with a half-curious gaze.
"Yes," Joan paused, a little unsure of herself, her optimism gone. "I-I called from downtown about the Girl Friday position..."
"Oh yes," the aged secretary brusquely cut her off. "Mr. Castle will see you in a few minutes, he's on the phone now." With this proclamation stated, she popped back into the inner office, leaving Joan alone.
She sat back against the smooth upholstery and tried to calm herself for the interview with Emmett Castle. She picked out a magazine from the rack, unconsciously crossing and re-crossing her long legs as he forced her eyes over the slick print. Her woolen suit clung to her full thighs, slightly dampened from small trickles of perspiration and creeping higher as she squirmed on the seat.
But her thoughts were too distracting for any serious concentration, and after scanning over several more pages, she gave up and put the magazine back in the rack. Downtown Reno had been hot and dirty, nothing like the green-shrubbed suburban living that she was used to. Most of the action seemed to be centered around the gambling casinos.
When she passed by their large plate glass windows, she could see it all. Tourists, pensioners, cowboys, bartenders and brassy show girls...all busy at their tasks around the machines and tables.
A waitress in a coffee shop told her she could easily get a job as a cocktail waitress or even a dealer, but Joan inwardly shuddered at the thought of working in the smoke-filled gambling dens.
"Mr. Castle will see you now," the secretary announced, breaking Joan's reverie.
She walked swiftly to the door of Emmett Castle's inner office, forcing a smile to her lips as she entered.
"Come on in," Emmett smiled back, his Nevadan-tanned skin dark brown, like tough leather. He leaned his muscular body towards her just long enough to push a chair up by his desk, and motioned her to sit down. Emmett was a ruggedly handsome man, she guessed to be in his late thirties. He had that well-nourished look, though slender. She liked the way his jaw squared off and ran up to a pleasant amount of small furrows on his forehead.
"Let's see," he muttered, rummaging through the paper scattered over his desk, finally pulling out a note pad. "Mrs. Joan Carpenter," he read, "office and advertising experience, that right?"
Joan nodded.
"I see you have a San Francisco address," he continued. "New in Reno...huh?" He looked boldly over at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. His eyes made a quick, professional appraisal of her face and figure, then he leaned back in his swivel chair waiting for her answer. It was plain to see that he liked what he saw.
Joan was annoyed and angered by his bold study of her. She felt naked.
"I'm in Reno for a divorce, Mr. Castle," she answered. "And I understood that this was to be a temporary job."
"It's really more of an assignment than a job," he answered slowly "and the pay is high, more than enough to see you through a divorce."
Joan relaxed a bit. The man was easy going and not taken back by her flash of anger. Her voice softened, "What type of assignment?"
Emmett lit a cigarette and took a long slow drag before he spoke.
"I handle investigations, have for years. Most of them are routine in nature...personnel checks, divorce cases...but some are a lot more involved and complicated. And usually, when I'm faced with such a case, I enlist help from the outside. I have a client who's anxious to retrieve some negatives and photos taken of him in a compromising situation, a plain case of blackmail."
"Why doesn't he go to the police?" she asked.
"For the obvious reasons," he answered. "Respectable businessman...family, and now he's contemplating politics."
"Your client's afraid the photos would lose an election for him?" Joan asked, apprehensive but a little excited at the prospect of the job.
"No, not the election. The man with the photos would probably back my client in any political contest...it's after he's in office that he'd get the pressure put on him for small favors.-My client knows that unless he can get back those photos, he might as well forget the whole campaign." Emmett chuckled. "You can see that he's got a big problem. The fee is high, and I'm willing to share a good deal of it with you, if you're still interested."
Joan swallowed hard, the thought of acting female sleuth was an attractive idea. She wanted something to involve her thoughts completely to keep her mind off of Bill...but this whole scheme sounded wild, like something out of a dime store detective novel.
Emmett went to a walnut cabinet on the other side of the room and took out a bottle of gin, some tonic and a couple of glasses.
"Let's have a drink while you're thinking about it." He held up the bottle of gin "This okay?"
Joan nodded and he quickly poured two glasses. The clear liquor burned her tongue and throat, but the drink was surprisingly refreshing.
"What would I have to do," she asked when her glass was near empty.
"Very little, really," he answered. "There's a dude ranch out of town, run by a woman called Celia Johnson. She's been a long time friend of this man...er Nick Casetti. Nick has interests in several gambling casinos around here, but mostly, I guess you might call him a playboy.-likes to give lots of big parties, and Celia's always invited. Nick-likes to flirt around a little with the divorcees that stay at her ranch. All you do is go out there, make friends with Celia, then get in touch with me as soon as you're invited over to Nick's."
"It all sounds so dishonest...so sneaky," Joan answered hesitantly, not certain she liked being used as flesh-bait for a gambler this way.
"You're not dealing with honest people," Emmett replied abruptly. "Consider what Nick is doing to my client. All you have to do is keep your eyes open when you get to Nick's. Stay away from the booze and try to get the layout ot his place...look for hidden wall safes, or the most obvious place that he would keep the photos...a den or study."
He pulled out his wallet and counted out several large bills. "This will cover your expenses at the ranch, my secretary will give you directions and a brochure on the place. If Celia asks you how you found the ranch, tell her you picked up the brochure at a travel agency."
Emmett shut his eyes momentarily after she had gone, mentally picturing Joan's voluptuous breasts and firm buttocks, and how it would feel to be in bed with her, pumping his hardened cock between those long, tanned legs. He sighed, almost in regret, and lit another cigarette.
He hadn't really been honest with the girl, but if he told her all he knew about Nick Casetti, she would have blown out of the office in two seconds.
At the age of forty, Nick had committed every heinous crime in the gangster's handbook...dope pushing, robbery, rape, bookmaking and extortion. A few unsolved murders had been traced to him, but he was never convicted.
Emmett poured himself another drink and glanced through Nick Casetti's file. He had started out in the slums of New York City, building up his experience in burglary, assault, and extortion. When he discovered Reno, about fifteen years ago, he put his particular talents to work, and quickly achieved success, progressing from bookie to gambling entrepreneur.
Emmett's client had been at a local convention, celebrating and gambling at a casino that Nick managed. He was surprised that the house was so generous. Nick had him moved with compliments of the house into a plush suite with king-size bed and plush furniture. Evidently, the room was also equipped with a two-way mirror and half-dozen microphones to record his every word.
A king-size redhead was sent up to his room, a particularly striking dancer that he had admired earlier at a lounge show. At the time he didn't know it, but Nick was setting him up for one of his favorite hobbies...pornographic photos that could lead to particular embarrassment to the men involved, who were usually, like Emmett's client, important business and civic leaders.
GO
Emmett was certain that the negatives were hidden somewhere at Nick's private lodge, but the place was actually guarded like a mint by his henchmen. No one came in or out without Nick's consent. He had many enemies and he knew it. Nick had built his own prison, making it bearable by turning it into a pleasure palace.
Joan Carpenter was the perfect answer for what Emmett had been looking for, an attractive, long-legged blonde, Nick's favorite. A little on the naive side, but intelligent enough not to give herself away...and she had a legitimate front. What other reason would she need at the ranch, other than she was a disillusioned housewife, waiting out a divorce.
Emmett looked up from the folio, slightly startled as his office door burst open, and Janie Summers, one of his chorus-girl bed chums stomped into the room. A baby-like pout formed on her generous full lips, her long red hair still tangled from driving in her open convertible. She slammed the door shut behind her and strutted over to his desk.
"Why don't you get rid of that old bag out there," she demanded, pointing in the general direction of Miss Holt's desk. "Every time I come over here, all I get from her is dirty looks."
Emmett grinned. "That's because you never have an appointment, love." He made her a drink, adding more gin to his own glass. "Besides," he continued, "I trust her, she's faithful as an old hound dog."
There was a lot of truth in what he said, Emmett thought wryly, she was one of the few people that he really trusted. Maybe some day he'd give her a good screw just to show her how grateful he was.
"Well," Janie giggled, "your hound dog has left for the day, I passed her coming up the stairs." She set down her drink and placed her cushiony buttocks on his lap, playfully working her fingers at the knot in his tie.
"What's wrong, darling," she murmured, her anger now abated. "Don't you trust me?" She licked the rim of his ear.
"Of course, I do," he lied, leaning over and kissing her on the lips. He could feel the oven between her legs generating warm heat to his own body.
"Emmett, honey...I do love you," she whispered seductively in his ear.
"I love you, baby," he murmured back, wondering what she would say if he told her he knew that she was a high priced prostitute on the side of her dancing career.
Janie's breasts pushed hard against her thin cotton blouse, the buttons almost bursting from the pressure. He ran his blunt fingers down the front seam and they easily popped out of their allotted holes, freeing the large white orbs from their entrapment.
She leaned forward, her two huge breasts a fleshy pillow by his face.
"Why can't you dress properly like other civilized women," he joked. Janie rarely wore a brassiere, she didn't really need one. Her firm muscular breasts jutted away from her torso, smooth and pointed without the aid of elastic support.
"Don't you like me a little wild, sugar?" She planted her moist lips at the base of his neck, nuzzling and kissing him there. Her long tapered fingers worked rapidly at the buttons on his shirt, his tie was already on the floor.
Then she pushed away from him for a moment and reached for her drink.
"Cheers," she laughed, tilting back the glass and draining it empty. Her eyes were bright and slightly dilated from her mounting passion.
Despite her vices, Emmett had a soft spot for Janie. Her lust was animal and she never seemed to tire of his endless sex play. The thought of her selling that gorgeous body for money angered him, and he wondered vaguely then if she had other men lined up for that evening after her show.
He reached over, roughly jerking off her blouse and his anger mounted when she giggled again at him.
"Grrrrr tiger," she chided, standing up in front of him, swaying her full hips from side to side with a taunting smile on her red lips. All she had on now was a blue mini skirt and tan-colored high heels. The short skirt accentuated the graceful lines of her long copper-tone legs, as firm and shapely as any in the chorus line.
Emmett could feel the bulge growing in his e:? pants, its hot stiffness pushing against the tightness of his trousers. He felt a little foolish disrobing in front of Janie, but his whole body was on fire, he couldn't wait till later...Janie had never aroused him so quickly before. Maybe, he thought, it was because of his earlier notions about Joan Carpenter.
Seconds later, he stood beside Janie naked, his long, blunt rod erected away from his body at a forty-five degree angle. Janie stared at it, openly intrigued by the size of his powerful organ. He pushed it up hard against her crotch as he pulled the full length of her body to him, unzipping the mini skirt with his free hand.
The skirt slipped to the floor, followed by her sheer panty hose and high heels. Now they were both naked and hot, each of them lusting for the other's body, their passions unchained from any inhibitions they might have possessed.
He pressed her closer to him, cupping her tight buttocks in the palms of his hand, feeling his swollen prick bury itself against the soft heat of her thighs. His heart began to pound rapidly and his rod felt like it was being pierced by a thousand tiny hot needles.
As if sensing his torture, Janie ran her cool fingers down his hips, resting them on the base of his erected penis. She began to softly stroke at the thick red rod, her own breath coming in short gasps now at the thought his blunt cudgel pushing into her hot wet vagina. She could tell Emmett was about to take her, his face was flushed with passion, his eyes half closed as he watched her delicate hands stroke with growing intensity at his straining cock.
"Oh...Oh," he gasped, when she fingered tenderly the loose sacks of flesh between his legs. His balls felt like two water balloons, straining from their fullness, about ready to erupt like a volcano.
At that moment, he wanted to throw her on the floor and shove his throbbing cock into her hair-covered pussy with all the power in him, until she had no strength left for her paying customers. But her expert manipulations on his burning genitals made him powerless. He felt like a puppet under full control of the master's strings and for a timeless moment he stood there, entrapped in the euphoria of pleasurable sensations.
His limbs and body felt loose, almost liquid now as the blood boiled and coursed through his veins in a great heat. The taut tanned muscles quivered spastically at his upper thighs and buttocks. When he looked into Janie's eyes, they were wide and expectant, silently pleading for her own satisfaction.
The fleshy stem of his penis was hard as a rock, the head large and red, filled with blood. With great effort, he uncurled her fingers from around his shaft, and pressed the full length of her torso against his own. Her quivering breasts crushed against his massive chest and they swayed back and forth, their bodies totally immersed in the moment's passion.
Kissing her wildly, Emmett drew her down slowly on the deep-piled rug, pressing his knees between her soft thighs until they were wide and open. Her whole body was limp and trembling and the pink moistness of her vaginal lips were plainly visible through her soft downy pubic hair.
Emmett gritted his teeth in supreme concentration as he straddled her lust incited body, holding her waist in his firm grip. Janie lifted her leg eagerly, her rounded buttocks now tense and waiting.
He pushed the reddened tip of his massive swollen cock against her pulsating hair lined cunt, feeling her warm, secreting juices flow hotly around the rubbery head. He gritted his teeth and probed the quivering entranceway for a moment, then with all his strength, drove his hips forward, sinking the throbbing hot cock deep into her eager wet cunt.
"Aaarrgghhh," he gasped as he felt his foreskin stretch back along his swollen prick. Even though she was a high priced whore, she was always tight for the first few moments, making him suffer in pain as his huge throbbing cock wormed its way deep into her smooth wet cunt until suddenly the twitching head pushed hard up against her cervix.
He drove into her with long, powerful strokes, as Janie gurgled and coughed beneath him, urging him on to completion. He could feel her pelvis firm and flush against his own, grinding and bucking in a wild spontaneous rhythm of uninhibited lust. He could feel her sweating hands clutching at his body frantically, begging and guiding his twisting hips, while at the same time her undulating buttocks ground back in such frenzy that he knew she was almost ready to cum.
He could see that she was coming closer and closer to orgasm and her whole body was consumed and alive, clinging to the delicious sensations that engulfed her fiery pussy. Emmett cupped her smooth round buttocks with his hands, steadily increasing the power of his thrusts to a faster and more brutal tempo. He could feel the saliva in his mouth thickening until he had to swallow hard to keep from choking.
Janie's white, flaccid breasts quivered and trembled beneath him, their suction emitting a soft sucking noise, chiming rhythmically into the wet slapping sound of his belly smacking against hers. She could feel the muscles of her vaginal walls flowering painfully under the pressure of Emmett's driving cock. But her quivering hot cunt took the brutal punishment and begged for more and more, as her own white hot juices flowed around it, lubricating its emersion so that it flowed into her smoothly, mechanically, like a well-oiled machine.
Her hands reached desperately up and locked themselves around the back of his neck pulling his face to hers. With a soft, muffled moan, she kissed him on the mouth, sucking wildly at his tongue. Their saliva mixed together as she continued to suck and bite at his mouth, swallowing all the moisture she could pull from it.
She was ready!
Her legs kicked out, quivering uselessly in the air on either side of him, as he continued to buck down into her without ceasing. The hot walls of her clasping cunt tightened hungrily around his thick shaft as she pounded back at him now in the first throes of orgasm. Warm rivulets of cuntal fluid seeped out of her vaginal lips and around the base of Emmett's cock, mixing with the sweat in the tangled mat of their tightly entwined pubic hairs.
Emmett could feel the rising tide beginning deep in his balls ready to explode any second. Hot ripples of fire danced through his senses, surging into a giant tide that engulfed his burning cock. Suddenly it burst, exploding thin jet streams of his sperm deep inside her womb. He gasped as the hot fluid shot from his cock into her twitching cunt. The room seemed to be spinning around them...he could hear her ecstatic whimpering and feel the pressure of her fingers dig deeply into his shoulders as he thrust savagely, shooting the last of his white, spurting cum deep into her belly.
CHAPTER 3
The sunset reflected myriads of reds and saffron yellows against the parched Nevada Hills, still thirsty from the scorching heat of day. Joan squinted from the harsh glare and adjusted the visor with her free hand, as her gray sedan sped over the winding highway just a few miles south of Celia Johnson's ranch.
The hot desert air whipped through the open car windows with the intensity of a blast furnace, tangling her blonde hair and stinging at her unprotected eyes. The smothering heat was almost unbearable, even at this time of day. She pressed her foot firmly down on the accelerator, anxious now to reach her destination.
Her earlier fears of working for Emmett Castle seemed exaggerated now, although she felt a little guilty about deceiving Celia. When she phoned from the motel for reservations, Celia had been cordial and friendly, and her warm manner dispelled some of Joan's anxiety about staying at her ranch. But, she thought, the fact remained that Celia was a close friend of Nick Casetti's, and she'd have to be on guard with her...if she was to be of any help in getting back the photos.
She slowed the car as she approached the wooden sign post at the entrance of the ranch, and turned off on a narrow dirt road. In the far distance, about a mile, she could see the dim outline of the ranch house. It was a large and sprawling Spanish style hacienda. A few tall trees arched high to the side of it, their ragged silhouettes black against the skyline. She passed a large corral filled with horses bedded down for the night, and winced at the sharp smell of fresh dung.
When she reached the main entrance to the ranch house, the dirt road turned to gravel, winding around a circular drive to a small parking area. There were a few men and women in a shaded patio with drinks in their hands, watching her curiously as she stepped out of the car. One of the women, dark and beautiful, left the group and walked towards her. Joan knew before she introduced herself that the woman must be Celia Johnson.
"Hi there," she greeted, "you must be Joan Carpenter." She extended her hand with a firm grip.
"Yes, I called earlier from Reno."
"It's pretty hot out there today," Celia nodded towards the highway.
Joan blushed suddenly aware of her own appearance before the well-groomed woman. She knew that she must look worn and frazzled. She could feel the back of her dress, drenched in perspiration, her hair disarrayed and tangled. In contrast, Celia looked cool and sure of herself. Her long, almost jet black hair was pulled back in a neat chignon, with a few stray locks softly dangling by the side of her face. She wore a western outfit with a blouse that plunged daringly low in front, revealing the deep cleavage of her full bosom. The only jewelry she wore was a tiny silver locket on a long chain that bounced nervously around the valley between her breasts each time she moved. Her large hazel-green eyes glistened with mirth now, as if reading Joan's thoughts.
"You look beat, Honey," she smiled. "Why don't you go freshen up a bit, and join us for a drink before dinner. I'll get Rich to help you with your bags."
She waved at one of the ranch hands, and he came ambling slowly over to meet them, almost grudgingly.
"Rich," she said, "take Mrs. Carpenter's bags over to room I6."
Joan could tell that Celia openly disliked Rich...by the distasteful look on her face, and the tone of her voice. But, Rich picked up her bags and walked away without so much as a nod, as if he hadn't noticed her cold manner towards him.
Joan followed him around the main house to a small cluster of bungalows in back. He stopped at number sixteen and pulled a key off a large brass ring.
"Here's your key," he mumbled. "Open it." He nodded to the door and picked up the suitcases again.
Joan cringed at his closeness. His breath was sour with whiskey, his eyes half closed and blood shot. The heavy odor of stale sweat clung to his clothing and she could see large stains of perspiration around the armpits of his shirt. She quickly unlocked the door and led him into the room, ignoring his presence and busily opening the drapes and windows to let some air in. The room was like an oven and her dress clung wetly to her body outlining every curve and crevice.
When she turned to get her luggage, she was surprised to see Rich still standing there, lewdly staring at her sensuous body, his eyes bright and gleaming, exposing his salacious thoughts.
"That's all, Rich," she said coldly, sickened by his obscene expression.
He stood there a few seconds longer, and then to her relief, turned to go.
"Dinner's in one hour," he muttered, shuffling out and not bothering to close the door as he left.
Joan walked quickly back over to the door and shut it. The room was hot and sticky in the sweltering heat and the curtains at the open windows barely stirred in the motionless air. She longed for the cool evenings on the San Francisco Peninsula as she stripped the dress from her damp shoulders.
Later, in the comfort of a cold shower, she began to feel better. Everything seemed to be working out all right, she thought. Celia seems to be awfully nice and it's a pretty place. Just as long as I can avoid that disgusting Rich! The memory of the way the man had leered at her sent shivers down her back and she hurried out of the shower and began to dress.
She wasn't quite sure how she should dress for dinner. Joan would have preferred the comfort of a pair of slacks and a blouse, but finally decided that she should wear a dress just to be safe. Choosing a light one in soft green she slipped it on and posed before the mirror to judge her appearance.
Joan tossed her thick mane of honey-blonde hair casually across her shoulders and felt a tremor of pleasure as she looked at her image in the full length mirror. At least I don't have to worry about my figure, she thought. I may not look like a fashion model with these breasts, but who wants to be built like a rail anyway?
It was true. Joan's face had the sculptured perfection of the loveliest cover model, but there the resemblance ended. Her high, thrusting breasts and the swelling curves of her hips and thighs would have overwhelmed the fashion world, just as it did each man who saw her.
A moment later, after carefully inspecting her make-up, she closed the door softly behind her and walked gracefully across the white stone path to the sprawling ranch house.
She paused to look around. The New Dawn Dude Ranch was set against the rolling foothills about fifteen miles from town. All of the raucous noises and neon lights of Reno seemed nonexistent out here in the peaceful quietness of the valley. Joan hadn't known what to expect after all the stories she had heard, most of them humorous, about dude ranches for women awaiting divorces. She had thought it would be no more than a country club with a few phony cowboys and several gentle, over-aged horses, but the New Dawn seemed to be run almost like a regular ranch. When she had driven up she had noticed several cowboys watching another breaking a horse in the corral and the foothills dotted with herds of cattle.
She breathed in the cool evening air and began to look forward to her stay. It seemed so peaceful, so removed from the cold glitter of Reno. She had just begun to hope that the matter of Nick Casetti could be taken care of as soon as possible so that she would be able to relax out here for several weeks when the front door of the main house opened and she heard someone calling her.
She turned and saw Celia Johnson waving to her. The tall brunette was still dressed in the pair of tightly cut slacks and western-style shirt and boots.
"Joan, come on in. You just have time for a drink before dinner." She paused. "No, wait. We'll have one together out here on the veranda. Have a seat, and let me make you a Collins."
Before Joan could answer, the older woman disappeared into the house. She took a seat on the wide porch and thought a little thankfully that it would give her a chance to relax before she went through the ordeal of meeting the others inside.
"Here you are, dear," Celia Johnson said as she handed her a tall, frosted torn collins. "This should clear away a little of the dust...and besides, it'll give me a chance to answer some of your questions." She smiled warmly at Joan before she continued. "I saw you standing out here and thought you might be having some misgivings about the New Dawn."
"Thank you very much, Mrs....uh, Miss..."
"It's Celia, dear. We all go by our first names out here."
"Thank you, Celia. No, I didn't have any misgivings...it just seemed so peaceful and pretty that I was taking my time before I went inside."
"It is peaceful, that's for sure. Sometimes it's too peaceful for my liking," the woman laughed. "At least there's a party tonight! Say, I guess you already knew about that, huh?" She looked down at the dress Joan was wearing.
"What? Oh, the dress. No, I didn't know there was a party. I just didn't know what to wear to dinner, and I thought I would be safest in a dress."
"We all dress like a bunch of Hollywood cowboys around here. But the dress is great...this way you won't have to change." She raised her glass. "Cheers!"
"One of the big wheels down in the Valley is throwing a party at his hunting lodge," Celia continued. "We should really have a great time."
Joan nodded and wondered if she was ready for another party. She thought a little bitterly that the last party she'd gone to certainly hadn't turned out very well. The scene in the bathhouse was still cruelly etched in her mind.
"Say, Joan, why don't you drive over with me? I can introduce you to everyone and..."
"Celia, I'd love to," Joan interrupted, "but would I be welcome? I mean, I haven't been invited."
"Are you kidding. With your looks? They'd probably bar me from all the parties if they found out I didn't invite you." The older woman laughed, and tapped her on the shoulder. "We'd better hurry with these drinks. Come on inside, and I'll tell you more about the party at dinner."
As they both stood Celia Johnson took her arm. "And, don't worry about these people inside. I'll introduce you, but there are only a couple that are worth meeting." She laughed. "I shouldn't say that, I know, but most of these women are wandering derelicts that are doing their husbands a favor by getting a divorce."
They paused just before they went inside and looked out over the barns and corrals. With the sun setting behind the foothills it looked like a scene from some cinemascope western.
"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing out here away from everything," Celia said, "but Joe...you'll meet Joe, my partner...Joe takes care of everything on the ranch, and I just entertain a bunch of wealthy women."
About a half an hour later, Joan sat amid a roar of chattering women and several cowboys in a large chuck house-style dining room. Celia had been right. There hadn't been many of the women that Joan had felt comfortable with. Moments after being introduced, several of them had immediately started probing about her divorce, and barraged her with sordid stories about their own husbands. There had been a couple, though, that had seemed as uncomfortable with all the questions as she had, and Joan had felt a certain kinship with them.
As for the men; she hadn't really had a chance to form any opinions. There was Rich, of course, and she still felt a strong sense of repulsion each time she saw him leering at her-and there were several cowboys that looked just a little too pretty and assured to her...like the young men you see draped on the arms of rich older women in every large city.
She glanced again at the man on her left. Joe Sheppard met her look and she felt a flush of warmth. My God, he's a rugged looking man, she thought, I've never seen a man that looked so masculine.
Celia Johnson watched the look that passed between them and felt a quick rush of anger. Celia was used to women being attracted to Joe Sheppard and, because she felt that he belonged to her, it gave her a sense of satisfaction, but, seeing the same look of desire in his eyes infuriated her. Joan Carpenter had better keep her hands off him, she thought angrily, or she's going to be awfully sorry.
Celia Johnson's accusing thoughts were unfounded, however, because the young blonde had no serious designs on the tall cowboy. The episode between her husband and Gail Martin was too recent, had hurt her too much for her to give any thought to another man. She couldn't believe that the man she loved so much could have done that to her and the wound was still too raw and open for her to bare herself to another man's attentions.
She turned back to the food before her and tried to concentrate on snatches of conversation around her.
"Joan, why don't we have a quick brandy before we go to the party?" Celia had reached over and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Fine. I'd like that." Unaware of the other woman's feelings, she turned to the man at her side. "Joe, will you join us?"
"Why, yes...I'll have someone bring it into the den." He took her arm as she rose and the three of them went into the other room. He was aware of the hard glint in Celia's eyes and it annoyed him enough to make him purposely more attentive to Joan Carpenter.
During the few minutes that they sipped at the brandy Joan noticed the change that had come over Celia and wondered what had caused it. Perhaps if she had been consciously flirting with Joe Sheppard she might have been aware of the reason for the other woman's anger-but as it was, it never occurred to her. She was a little relieved when she felt the tension disappearing after Joe had left the room. He was driving over in his own car and had gone to change for the party.
"You'll probably meet a friend of mine at the party tonight," Celia said as they pulled out in the Cadillac convertible. The warmth had returned to her voice and Joan felt more at ease. As a matter-of-fact, she was beginning to look forward to the party.
"Nick Casetti."
Joan jumped involuntarily at the sound of the man's name. "What!"
Surprised, Celia Johnson turned. "I said you'll probably meet a friend of mine, Nick Casetti, at the party. What's the matter? Do you know Nick?"
"What...oh, no...I just had a chill, that's all."
"Oh, do you want me to stop and put the top up?" The other woman began to slow the car.
"No, Celia, please...it's fine. I like it like this. The air's so fresh." She reached for a cigarette-wanting to do something with her hands that had begun to tremble-and hoped the woman hadn't noticed the tremor in her voice. I feel like a harpy, she thought. Celia's being so nice to me and I'm just using her!
They drove for almost a half an hour with Delia doing most of the talking. Joan tried to listen to her descriptions of the guests that would be at the party, but her mind kept returning to the thought of Nick Casetti and what Emmett Castle had told her about him.
Well, at least I won't have to do any snooping around tonight. The party's out at his house, and I can't very well go up and ask him where he keeps his negatives! She eased back into the soft leather seats of the red convertible and tried to calm the nervous fluttering of her heart. After a while she began to feel a little better; the brandy after dinner had spread a warm glow through her body and dulled the painful memory of Bill at the same time.
She watched expectantly as Celia turned the convertible into a wide, sweeping driveway rimmd with poplar trees. It was obvious as they pulled up in front of their host's house that he was very wealthy. She could imagine how magnificent the huge house would look in bright sunlight.
An attendant came around and opened the car doors for them and Joan got out to follow Celia up the broad flight of stairs. As they entered the house the soft stillness of the night outside was challenged by loud laughter and the sound of a band playing somewhere inside.
Joan handed her coat to a maid and felt a little defenseless as if she were giving up her armor before entering battle. Having Celia by her side made her feel a little better, but it had been so long since she had been anywhere alone without Bill. She wasn't even certain she would even know how to handle another man again.
"Come on, Joan, I'll take you in and introduce you to everyone. It sounds as if the party's been going for quite a while."
"Okay, Celia, but lead me to a drink first." She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice, but she felt Celia must have noticed it.
"Hey, you still sound a little upset...come on, a drink will help." Celia took her arm and led her into a huge living room crowded with people. Everyone seemed to be animatedly involved in conversation and cocktails and no one noticed them at first.
"Celia! I'm delighted you made it...particularly in such beautiful company." Joan turned to see a heavy set man in a maroon dinner jacket approaching them and holding out his arms to the woman at her side.
"Oh, Jack, there you are. I was looking for you. I wanted you to meet Joan Carpenter." Turning to Joan, she continued: "Joan, this is Jack Petrie, our host." Then she added in an exaggerated stage whisper; "Watch out for him, Joan, he's the biggest lecher in Nevada," and laughed.
"Don't believe a word she says, Joan. I'm absolutely harmless." I
Joan laughed in return, but after seeing the glint in the man's eyes she began to wonder if Celia wasn't telling the truth after all.
"I find it hard to believe that you're harmless, Mr. Petrie...but, if you'll lead me to the bar I may give you the benefit of the doubt." She held out her arm and, taking it, the heavy man guided her through the crushing crowd to a portable bar that had been set up in the corner.
"What'll it be, Joan? Joe here can make any drink known to man." He squeezed her elbow and added: "and I wish you'd call me Jack. 'Mr. Petrie' makes me feel old and decrepit."
After ordering a martini, Joan began to hope that Celia would join them soon-or that someone, at least, would come over and distract Jack Petrie. He dropped his hand to her waist and was holding her possessively like a new-found property.
"Jack, why don't we try to find Celia?" She laughed, and tried to disguise her discomfort. "I don't want her to think I've already succumbed to your devastating charm."
"Okay," he said a little unhappily, "but only if you'll promise to spend a little time with me later."
"I'd be happy to. Come on, I think I see her over by the fireplace." She nudged him in the direction of a large group of people on the other side of the room. At least there's safety in numbers, she thought. i
A few moments later she was surrounded by several admiring men and the unhappy glances of a few women who'd lost their places as the centers of attraction.
One man stood apart from the group by the fireplace and watched. He was tall, rather dark, and so well dressed that he looked as if he'd just stepped out of a London Saville Row tailor's shop. From a distance he appeared to only casually be looking around the room, but under closer study it was obvious that his complete attention was centered on the startling blonde in the light green dress.
Joan Carpenter's natural loveliness did make the other women seem overdressed and gaudy in comparison, and it was easy to understand why most of the men in the room seemed to be gravitating toward the place where she stood.
The tall man stood silently for several moments and then, seeing Celia Johnson pass by, he called her over to him. They spoke quietly for a minute and then she left him to join the group by the fireplace. She returned a moment later with Joan in tow.
"Nick, I'd like you to meet Joan Carpenter...Dear, this is Nick Casetti, remember I told you about him on the way over." He turned casually, as if the introduction was completely unexpected. "It's certainly a pleasure to meet you. I would have come over to join you, but you were so surrounded by hungry wolves that I didn't think I'd have a chance." He smiled, and Joan was a little surprised by his warm sincerity. He didn't seem like the man Emmett Castle had described. But then, she thought, I don't suppose blackmailers have any special look about them.
"How do, you do, Mr. Casetti...Celia speaks quite highly of you."
"Well, don't pay any attention to her, I'm actually a pretty horrible person," he said disarmingly. "Can I get you another drink?"
"Why yes, please. Do you mind if I walk over to the bar with you?" She took his arm and smiled up at him. I may become a good spy yet, she thought as they walked across the room. She wondered about Nick Casetti, he just didn't seem like the type of person the investigator had described to her.
"I'm glad you came over when you did," she said to the man at her side. "I was beginning to have a little trouble with Mr. Petrie and he was becoming awfully hard to handle without getting rude myself."
"Why? Oh, Jack. Yeah, he's quite a character...or at least he's built himself quite a reputation," Nick said, and laughed. "I'll try to protect you, but I can't promise anything. It's easy enough to see why he'd latch onto you...and I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself!"
She smiled, beginning to feel more at ease with him. It was hard to believe that he was what he was supposed to be. "I'll trust you, Nick, at least I think I will."
Nick Casetti ordered two martinis and they stood in the relative quiet by the bar and talked for a while. It seemed that he had some sort of partnership in one of the gambling casinos, and the subject of gambling made a very easy topic to talk about. Later, as she was starting to wonder how to inveigle an invitation to his house-to see if she could find out anything for Emmett Castle-he invited her to dinner the following evening. She agreed, and thought at the same time that there would be nothing to find. She was sure by then that the investigator, or his client, was wrong about Nick Casetti. It just didn't seem possible, after talking to him, that he was the type of man that would have anything to do with any blackmailing scheme.
It seemed as if it had only been minutes, but as she looked around she realized that they must have been talking for almost two hours. The party had gotten considerably noisier and, by the glazed expressions on everyone's faces, the bartenders must have been awfully busy.
Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be as many people in the room as there had been and she wondered for a moment where everyone had gone. It didn't seem to matter much though, because the ones that were left were making enough noise for a stadium football crowd.
The small band was still playing and the floor was dotted with couples dancing. Dancing, she thought, they look like they've been glued together!
"Dance?"
"What?...oh, why yes, I'd like to, Nick." His question had taken her a little by surprise, and as they moved out onto the floor she realized that so had the martinis. She hadn't felt them so much standing still, but now her knees felt a little weak as she tried shakily to move to the throbbing rhythms of the music.
Joan felt a flush of heat race through her body as he pulled her against him and she felt the warm closeness of his body. The lights in the room had dimmed, and the dimness combined with the sensuous beat of the music made her very aware of his touch and the hardness of his body. She felt his hips moving slowly and grindingly against hers, and then she felt the swelling pressure against her belly, hardening against her. It frightened her, but, before she could say anything someone had tapped him on the shoulder.
"Nick, you're being awfully greedy. Do you mind if I dance with Joan?"
It was Joe Sheppard, and he stood smiling slightly as he waited for Nick Casetti's answer.
"Oh, good evening, Joe." A cold tone filled with animosity came into his voice. "I didn't see you earlier. No, I suppose it's all right...if Joan doesn't mind, that is." He turned to her, as if he hoped that she would.
She didn't know what to say. It had been fun talking to Nick, but dancing with him had made her a little nervous. She had been able to feel the way her body had aroused him and it had changed him from a charming conversationalist into just another man who wanted her physically.
"No, I don't mind. See you in a few moments, "Joan?"
"Nick?" But, her question went unanswered and she was left with the sight of his retreating back.
"I hope you really don't mind, Joan...I just thought you might want to be rescued," Joe said as he took her into his arms.
"Rescued? From what?"
"From Nick Casetti." He spat out the name like a bad taste, and his obvious dislike puzzled her.
He didn't answer at first, just held her gently as they danced, and then he cupped her chin in his hands and lifted her head until she was staring into his eyes.
"Joan, you shouldn't have anything to do with that man. He's nothing but trouble and I'd..."
"You'd what!" she interrupted abruptly. "I don't think it's any of your business in the first place, and secondly, he's been a perfect gentleman-which is more than I can say for you!"
"Joan, listen to me. You don't know him...you don't know his reputation." He'd stopped dancing with her and was leading her toward the door to the terrace.
"What are you doing? Where are you taking me, Joe?" She felt as if she were being led around like a small child and she tried angrily to pull her arm from his grasp.
"Just out here, Joan, I want to talk to you for a moment," he said as they stepped out onto the terrace.
"Well, I don't want to talk to you. I don't think what I do is any of your concern. For your information, I happen to like Nick Casetti. And as a matter-of-fact, I'm having dinner with him tomorrow night."
"Joan, you can't. Please listen to me." He spun her violently around to face him, his hands on her shoulders.
She slapped him. The sound of her hand sounding like a pistol shot in the quietness of the night. She'd done it without thinking, and the stinging pain in her hand brought her to her senses. She tried to think of the words to apologize, but before she could open her mouth he turned angrily and walked away.
"Joe...wait...Joe, I'm sorry..." she called out, but all she could hear was the crunching of his retreating footsteps in the gravel driveway.
She went back inside and headed for the bar. With another martini in her hand, she looked around for Nick Casetti. He wasn't there, and of the few people left in the room there was no one she knew.
Moments earlier Celia Johnson had been in the living room. She had watched Joe cut in on Nick and Joan and the sudden rush of hatred she had felt had almost made her tremble. When the cowboy had taken Joan out onto the terrace a violent jealous rage and filled Celia Johnson and, after waiting a few moments for them to come back in, she had gone through another door that led to the terrace from the other side of the house.
Celia had walked quietly around the house, expecting at any moment to find them embracing in some dark corner. And she'd found no one! A couple of minutes later she stood in the vacant spot where she'd seen Joe Sheppard's car parked. Then she knew they'd left together and after cursing silently and viciously to herself, she rushed back to her car and headed for the New Dawn Dude Ranch.
Completely unaware of what had happened outside Joan was back inside and sitting on one of the bar stools as she waited for Nick or Celia to return. She had another martini before the bartender left with a tray of drinks, and then she was alone in the large littered living room.
She couldn't understand where everyone had gone. At first she thought they'd just gone home but it seemed too early for that, and then it occurred to her that they might have paired off and disappeared into some of the bedrooms. She'd heard of parties like that, and if that was the case she certainly wasn't going to go and look for them. But, when the bartender, Joe, had made a large round of drinks and left the room she realized that the party must be continuing somewhere else.
Adding an ice cube to her drink and splashing a little more gin into it from a bottle behind the bar, she got up and left the room in search of the rest of the people. The liquor had begun to hit her pretty heavily and she stumbled a little as she wandered aimlessly through the corridors and listened for some sound of a party.
Finally, just as she was about to give up, she heard laughter coming from behind a pair of double doors at the end of the hall. That's where it is, she thought; Nick and Celia are probably in there. She opened the doors and stepped into a darkened room.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and there was a strange whirring noise that puzzled her for a moment.
"Shut the door, Honey, and come on in...the water's fine," a voice shouted, and was followed by a wave of laughter.
"Yeah, walk about ten feet and turn around." Someone else laughed.
She had no idea what they were talking about until she turned and looked up at the wall above her head. The flickering lights didn't make any sense at first, until she stepped back and realized everyone was watching a movie that was projected on the wall above her.
"Down in front!...hey, sit down!"
She ducked and tried to move back, stumbling over couples on the floor. Someone took her arm and she tried to pull away. Then she realized it was Nick.
"Joan, come back here with me." He led her back through the sprawled people, guiding her so that she wouldn't trip over the couples who lay all over the floor.
"Finally god rid of that cowboy, uh?...here...here's a place," and he pulled her down onto the floor beside him.
"He had to leave, Nick. Where's Celia? I can't find her anywhere."
"Hey! Shut up and watch the movie," some man next to her whispered.
She'd forgotten about the movie completely, and now she turned to see what had everyone so excited. She sipped her drink and tried to make out what was happening on the screen but the film must have been old or something because at first she couldn't see quite what was going on. It looked like one great blur of black and white, flickering like some old-time movie.
And then the camera moved back, and she realized what she had been watching. It had been the back of some man's head buried between a girl's thighs! It was a dirty movie!
She gasped. And the sudden sound that burst from her throat shattered the quietness in the room.
"Hey, Nick...what are you doing over there!
"Yeah, Nick. Keep your girl quiet...we're just getting to the good part."
She couldn't believe it. God, she'd never seen anything like that! The close-ups on the screen...she could even see the man's tongue darting into the.. .
"Nick! Get me out of here! What is this!" She rose jerkily to her feet and ran for the door. She tripped over a couple, kicking them hard with her shoe. She stopped to apologize, and then realized that they hadn't even felt it! All she could see were the man's naked buttocks rising and falling above the girl beneath him.
She finally got outside and slammed the door behind her. She stumbled, almost drunkenly down the hall, trying to erase the memory of what she'd seen from her mind.
Nick Casetti caught up with her.
"Joan. Wait! Joan, I'm sorry...I thought you knew what was going on in there.
"Nick, how could they...you...you were in there too..." her voice trailed off, and then she continued angrily, "Where's Celia?"
"I don't know, Joan...I saw her earlier. I know she wasn't back there in the movie, she must have gone home." He took her arm, and his voice had softened. But all he could see was his face as he'd watched that movie and she knew that the attraction she'd felt for him would never return.
"She wouldn't have gone without me. She drove me over here, I know she wouldn't leave." But, as she said it she realized that she hadn't seen Celia at all for a couple of hours.
"Let's take a look outside and see if her car is still here." Nick said and led her toward the front door. "Don't worry. If she's gone I'd be happy to take you home."
The convertible was gone, and Joan heard Nick talking to the parking attendant. "Yessir, Mr. Casetti, an' she sure left in a hurry. Man, that woman sure was mad at somebody!"
He walked back toward her and she knew that she'd have to accept his offer of a ride home. There was no other way. There may have been some other people from the dude ranch inside watching the movie, but she certainly wasn't going back to find out-besides, she couldn't stand the thought of riding home in the same car with some woman who'd obviously enjoyed that sort of thing!
As he helped her into his car she thought sarcastically to herself. Another Cadillac! Naturally, what other kind of car would a man like that drive? And Celia too. She's probably as bad as Nick Casetti-bringing me here and then stranding me!
The atmosphere was cold and strained as they drove home. Joan's thoughts were in too much of a turmoil as she remembered the scene in the movie, and as she wondered about Nick Casetti and Emmett Castle: She had heard about movies like that but had never had any desire to actually see one. She'd never thought about herself as being prudish or overly innocent, though Bill had teased her more than once. Several times he'd called her naive when he had tried to urge her into a different position when they were making love.
As they drove in the eerie silence of the big car, Nick Casetti was also involved in a confusion of thoughts. He was very attracted to the beautiful blonde girl beside him, and also a little disturbed by her violent reaction to the movie she'd seen. He wondered about his date with her the following evening. Now, he wasn't so sure he really wanted to take her to dinner. Hell, he wasn't even sure she'd still go. Still, it seemed like more of a challenge that way. He finally decided not to say anything more to her about it this evening. Rather than take the chance on a refusal from her while she was still upset, he'd wait until the following day, and give her a call.
* * *
There was very little light in the room back at the New Dawn Dude Ranch as Celia Johnson talked to the man on the bed.
"Rich, you just do what I say. I know that she's interested in you. She told me herself." The woman's voice was cold and harsh, and the single light bulb hanging on the long cord gave her face a hard, brittle appearance.
"I saw the way you looked at her, the way you wanted her. All I'm doing is giving you the green light to take her." The woman laughed bitterly. "I want you to take her, Rich, and give her a lesson she'll never forget!"
The fat man on the bed sensed the vengeance in Celia Johnson's voice. And though his mind normally worked very slowly he was pretty sure he knew why the woman had come to him with her proposition.
"But...Missus Johnson, suppose she tells somebody?"
"I told you not to worry about anything, Rich. I'll take care of her if she tries to cause any trouble. I'll be your alibi; you just do what I told you to do! Besides, there's nothing for you to worry about, I told you she said she wanted you." She stopped and lit a cigarette.
"You want me to go over there now, Missus Johnson?"
"No, Rich," she said triumphantly, "wait a while until everyone's asleep." No, you can't go over there now, you stupid bastard, Celia Johnson thought, she's probably still with Joe! But I'll fix her, I'll fix her good so he'll never want to look at her sweet little body again.
* * *
"Thank you, Nick. I'll see you tomorrow." Joan Carpenter purposely kept any emotion out of her voice as she said goodnight to Nick Casetti. She didn't want to give him any opportunity to ask her about dinner the next night-not until she had more time to think about it.
She watched him walk back to his car and drive away, and then stepped into her cabin. She wondered as she turned on the light if she should go over to Joe Sheppard's cabin and apologize for slapping him. He really hadn't deserved it, it was just that the whole night had made her so tense. Then she decided that it would probably be better to wait until morning.
Several moments later, still damp from the shower and shivering from the cold, she slid under the covers and turned out the lights. The soft moonlight streaming through the window reflected against the silver of tears on her cheeks.
Everything's so horrible and lonely, she thought. I want Bill here beside me! Why did he have to do this to me? I can't stand the thought of seeing Nick Casetti tomorrow, and yet I have to...I have to in order to get the money to divorce the only man I've ever loved.
She lay there crying silently in the darkness for almost an hour before she was able to go to sleep.
She had no idea how much later it was when she was awakened. Whether there was some sound that first stirred her she wasn't sure, but as she shook her head, her eyes still closed, to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her mind-the bed sagged with someone else's weight!
She squirmed violently away from the wet, perspiring skin that suddenly touched hers and tried to scream, but as she opened her mouth her breath was shut off by the pillow that was brutally thrust across her face...choking her, and tumbling her into a mindless, frightening agony...
Then she felt a great, heavy weight on her-a huge body slippery with sweat struggling on top of hers, and just as she thought her lungs would burst from the lack of air, the pillow was removed and a hand thrust painfully across her lips, crushing them against her teeth but allowing her to breathe through her nose.
The man on top of her raised himself long enough to insert a hand beneath the neckline of her negligee and then he ripped it from her, shredding it as he tore it away.
"I'm here...I came just like you wanted me to, Missus Carpenter...I wanted you too! I'll make you happy...I promise..." the words pounded into her brain, echoing, slurred-and the raw reeking smell of whiskey made her retch in revulsion.
The voice. Her tortured mind couldn't recognize it at first, then she knew. Rich!
Her arms and legs thrashed wildly as she tried to get away from him, but his great weight and strength made her helpless beneath him. She felt a hand scrabbling for something between her thighs, and then the other cruel hand left her mouth-but as she tried to scream some cloth, the torn nylon of her negligee was thrust into her mouth. Her scream ended at her lips and she gagged as the cloth caught in her throat.. .
"Don't worry...I'm here just like you wanted...I won't hurt you..." The drunken voice, the hot breath like bellows burning into her ears, and as she struggled against his enormous strength, she knew she had no chance.
Rich's huge, soft, pudgy hands scraped across her body-squeezing and pinching her aching breasts until her tortured nipples stiffened and then forced themselves between her thighs. Then she felt the hardness of his swollen penis pressing against her.. .
The struggling girl arched her hips violently, trying to escape the ravishing lust of the man who had her pinned like a captured moth-but it was useless and the pressure of his knees was slowly forcing her legs apart.
Oh dear God, it can't be happening! Please! It can't! Her mind kept screaming out in pain and fear.
Joan's body writhed beneath his uncontrollably as she choked and heaved, nauseated and sickened at the thought of what was happening to her helplessly held body.
Rich leaned back again and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand. The girl's moans had become a muffled echo and she let her body go limp, exhausted from the violent struggle. He still held her wrists fiercely in one large hand and they ached and throbbed in his tortuous grip. Each time she tried to move them the pain intensified a thousand times.
Rich placed his other hand between the cleavage of her firm pointed breasts and stroked at the two fleshy mounds, gradually bringing them into hardness. In a sudden jerking movement, he lifted his chest away from her and looked down. Her breasts burst free from their imprisonment of his weight, and rose pulsating and white in the moonlight. Her tiny bud-like nipples peaked hard involuntarily from this exposure to the cool night air.
"Ohhhh, Baby," he moaned drunkenly, sucking in his breath, "so beautiful...you're so beautiful." His words ran together into an indiscernible mumble as he dropped his head and ran his thick, moist lips hungrily over her breasts, his saliva drooling hotly down his chin and onto her trembling flesh. He began to suck at her right nipple like a nursing infant, bringing it to a hard, quivering point. Then he began to work on her left nipple, until it too was stiff and rigid from the stimulation of his obscenely sucking mouth.
And, in spite of her revulsion, strange sensations rippled through Joan's body, penetrating the tortured haze that clouded her mind. An expanding heat-filled wave licked at her body as his wild, voracious sucking continued for a seeming eternity.
Oh God, what's happening to me...oh, Bill, someone, help me...help me now! Her thoughts raced incoherently through her mind. A stifled sob racked her body and burst forth through the saliva-soaked gag in her mouth.
"Missus Carpenter, I won't hurt you...I came just like you wanted me to...we're going to be so happy..." he murmured as he looked down at her with a dazed look on his face. He seemed to be completely unaware of what he was doing. Nothing mattered to his drunken mind except to satiate his burning desire to use and penetrate the defenseless body of the girl beneath him. But now, as he paused momentarily and gazed down into the blue wide-set eyes, dilated by fear into two great terror-stricken pools, a softness came into his voice.
"Oh, Baby...I don't want to hurt you, you know that, don't you? Here, let me help you," he mumbled as he reached behind her for the pillow and tried to place it more comfortably beneath her head. He leaned back and placed his trembling hands on her quivering thighs. Then, running them slowly up the soft round curves of her hip, he began to knead at her belly until the tautness released into a soft yielding mass of helplessness.
"OHhhhhh...that's it, soft and easy...so warm," he slurred as he moved his hand down and stroked greedily at the moist, open lips of warm, pink flesh between her thighs. Joan groaned in humiliation at the sudden more intimate touch and suddenly recovering her composure, she jackknifed her legs and kicked up at his lust-filled face. She caught him just beneath the chin. He reared back in surprise and pain, and forced himself down against her wildly thrashing body. In blind anger at her resistance, he brought his hand hard down against the side of her head, sending spinning circles of light and pain through her tortured mind.
"Uhhhhggggghhh," he groaned, "you bitch! I'll teach you to play hard to get after leadin' me on like you done." he gasped as he grabbed at her throat.
Joan shook her head violently, barely able to stand the blinding pain from his clenching fingers.
"If you make a sound, or try to get away from me-I'll kill you! Do you understand?" Her eyes widened with renewed fear, forgetting the pain from his savage blow. She cringed away from him, shaking her head from side to side.
"No...no...she says," he chanted, "No, she doesn't want to die." A hideous chuckle broke from his lips as he mumbled beneath his breath.
In the moonlight, his eyes scanned the crests of her breasts heaving and contracting, and her thighs molded into curving ivory. His breath became heavier and harsher as he surveyed the helpless loveliness beneath him.
A gasp of impatience escaped his lips as he grabbed savagely at her limp legs-he pulled them wide apart and without waiting knelt between them.
Joan moaned in helpless fright as she saw his throbbing penis standing hard and erect from his paunchy body. She had never seen anything so horrible or frightening in her life. In the moonlight she could see the pulsating veins surging towards the large reddened head that was tipped with the moistness of his escaping seminal fluid, and she prayed for unconsciousness to free her from this lewd and hideous sight. Rich laughed out loud as he saw the growing fear in her eyes. He was going to fuck this proud snobby bitch and there was nothing she could do to stop him. He leaned forward, his mouth hanging loosely open, his eyes devouring the sight of her swollen breasts and swooping down to the full roundness of her thighs and smooth, white belly that was rising and falling in helpless panic as the straining girl fought to catch her breath.
He circled his arms around her narrow trembling waist and crushed his body tightly against hers.
"Nooooooo...Ohhhhhhh, please noooo," she moaned through the gag in her mouth as she felt his hands probing around the opening of her quivering vagina. She tried to press her thighs together in defense but it was hopeless. He had her frightened body pinioned so hard against the bed that her desperate struggles were useless. Her mind fought against the reality of what was happening to her, and the hot sharp pain that his hard, thick fingers brought to the lips of her quivering vagina.
She cringed and bucked her hips upward to escape his searching hands, but Rich vengefully thrust his middle finger down past the lips of her cunt and pushed it harshly deeper and deeper into her tortured passage that clamped itself around the finger in a hopeless act of defense.
"Aghhhhh Ahhhhh!" The smothered scream of pain expanded from her lungs and pushed out through her tightly clenched teeth.
He laughed and pushed deeper until the palm of his hand pressed down flat against the open lips of her vagina, and ground his finger around and around until Joan's body was almost screaming from pain. She had no resistance, even in her agony-the threat of the fat man's words still echoed in her brain.
The helplessness of this beautiful doll-like body beneath him engulfed Rich's body in lustful flames of uncontrolled passion. A passion that stimulated him beyond belief and at the same time held him in paralyzed ecstasy, fleetingly held him back from satiating his tormenting drive. He could think of nothing but plunging his burning prick deep into her liquid depths and drowning the hot desire burning inside him.
A moist sucking noise resounded through the bedroom as he pulled his thick finger from the hot wetness of her vagina, he reached down to his erected penis and sliding forward between her widespread legs, pushed the swollen, throbbing head up against the lips of her vagina.
Leaning over with the flat of his hand on her belly, he pushed his pelvis downward, aiming at the slight opening hiding beneath the hair-lined lips of her cunt. Joan felt a surge of pain in her arms as he gripped them tightly, and was rocked again a moment later by a searing, driving pain deep between her long thrashing legs. He was pushing and driving at her hair-covered pussy like a battering ram, brutally tearing at the quivering lips and then on past them into the helplessly contracting walls of her widely stretched vaginal passage. Joan groaned piteously, trying to move her hips away from the brutal intruder burning inside her but the evasive movement only incited the lust-maddened rapist to new heights, and he gave a powerful in-thrust with his pelvis, sinking his cock deep inside her heaving belly.
The brutal impalement between her legs left her windless as her silent scream gasped through the gag in her mouth. Rich now crouched over her with his swollen cock buried motionless far up inside the aching heat of her ravaged cunt. His face was buried in the cleft of her delicately rounded and upraised breasts. He began to rapidly move his mouth from one mound to the other, licking and sucking at her flesh in a maniacal frenzy that sent lightning shafts of sensation coursing wildly through her heaving breasts.
Joan bucked and writhed her body against her cruel tormentor in trembling protest of the brutal rape. Her movements drove him on.
"That's it!...move...move faster...aghhhh...keep moving!"...he gurgled through the hot saliva drooling down the corners of his lips, the liquid dripping onto the mounds of her breasts and swirling in rivulets down into the reservoir of her soft white belly. Gasping and panting with delight Rich began to fuck rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of her wet, open vagina. His fingers gripped her soft rounded thighs with sadistic strength, hurting her, squeezing groans of intense pain from her tortured throat as she struggled helplessly beneath him. He could feel the fleshy resistance deep inside her cuntal passage spread before the sensitive, engorged head of his prick.
Suddenly, Rich had a feeling of absolute power over the young, voluptuously formed body twisting in total subjection below him. He gritted his teeth and began fucking her wildly, in and out with long hard lunges that seemed to ignite his passion to the tips of his toes.
"Ahaaaaaggh!" Joan strangled through clenched teeth. Her aching vaginal passage was on fire. The great penis pounding into her felt like a giant skewer drilling deep into her belly. She began to struggle in a vain attempt to escape the cruel impalement, swinging her buttocks violently, but it was no use. Rich drilled into her up to the hilt, jamming his rock-hard penis into her clasping pussy with abandoned delight.
He reached frantically beneath her squirming buttocks with both hands and began to pull her toward him to meet the driving thrust of his hips.
The bed groaned and squeaked beneath her to the rhythm of the pounding shaft deep inside her hot liquid passage, and mixed with the passionate moans of her tormentor-moans that were now reaching a crescendo in her throbbing brain. She thought that he was going to split her wide apart as his battering penis plunged into her deeper and deeper until it felt as if it were burrowing all the way up to her heaving breasts. Her half-conscious mind fought violently against the torment of the massive, hot probe, fighting against the lewd realization of another man fucking her so cruelly. Thoughts of pain, humiliation and Bill swirled through her tortured mind. "Noooo oooo...NOOoooo!' please," she pleaded beneath his driving body.
In the dim moonlight she could see his face, a mixture of lust and masochistic pleasure.
"Uuuuuuuuggghhhh!" she grunted as he continued to buffet her down mercilessly against the creaking mattress.
Again and again he drove his throbbing cock deep inside her pulsating eunt as her legs jerked out helplessly in the air on either side of his plunging body.
"Agggghhhh...aahhhh...ahhhh," he moaned as he ceaselessly rammed his thick shaft into her white, screaming belly with long, cruel jabs. He could feel the hot, molten stream building in his inflated testicles, bursting and racing down the entire length of his throbbing pulsing penis.
He was ready to explode!
He gave one last throaty gasp as, with a violent jerk, he erupted somewhere deep inside to send breaking waves of white-hot liquids into the heated sheath that held him so tightly. Over and over it spurted forth...overflowing the reddened, tortured lips of her vagina, and draining down onto his testicles, and onto the soft matted pubic hair between them.. .
His huge body collapsed on her trembling form in total exhaustion, and he lay heaving and panting, burying his head in the long tresses of her golden hair.
When he recovered his breath he leaned back to smile lewdly and viciously at her cringing, broken body. He could see the reddened lips of her vagina glistening wetly in the faint light.
But, even as he looked at her, saw her cringing in hopeless surrender, he still wasn't satisfied. He had to have more of her, had to hear her plead and scream again and again before he could be happy the snobby little bitch had learned her lesson.
Rich grinned obscenely to himself as lewd thoughts ran through his sex-crazed mind. To know that the beautiful girl before him, beautiful even in her sobbing tears, was his to do with as he wished.
He began to run his fingers hungrily over the softness of her flesh. The sight of her spread before him, mixed with the pungent smell of sex, drove his penis to a new and greater hardness. He moved his head down to the narrow pink slit between her thighs and began licking and probing greedily at her cunt. Stiffening his tongue, he drove the full length of it in her and then back up over the fluted, pink edges of her vaginal lips and over the tiny clitoris atop her pubic mound.
Joan cringed and shuddered from the strange stimulation that was being forced upon her private parts. The sensation grew in intensity till a strange burning in her loins softly permeated her entire body. A low almost submissive moan gurgled from deep in her throat. Rich sensed her body's response to his manipulations and drew his head up as he slid up over her body, and planted his thick lips down over her mouth. His tongue snaked deep into her throat as with his other hand the gag was jerked from her lips. She groaned again in relief and her mouth inadvertently began a slow, mewling sucking against his lips. But it was only momentary as again the brutal realization of what was happening to her flickered through her half-conscious mind.
When she had caught her breath, she could hear the echo of her voice begging him again for the mercy she knew would not come. "Oh, oh, please, please, stop, please stop! I-I can't-stand-it-can't stand it!"
Ignoring her pleas, Rich slid his body up over her rapidly rising and falling belly so that he was straddling her chest. In the dim light Joan could see the erect phallus and the huge testicles that hung down obscenely over her breasts and shuddered in revulsion. His thick, rampant cock stood straight out from his belly, with the swollen scarlet head only inches from her gasping mouth.
"Kiss it," he said in a cold quiet voice that sounded totally devoid of emotion.
"Oh NO," she whimpered, her stomach churning violently from the thought of this ultimate degradation that he was trying to heap on her battered body.
"Please...please don't make me do it."
His reaction to her pleas was instantaneous. He reached behind him and with a cruel thrust up between her legs, rammed his finger deep into her vaginal passage and held her-digging cruelly at her insides with his probing finger.
"AHhhhhggghhhhh...hhhh...aaaaaahhhh!" Joan moaned and screamed as the searing pain shot through the wet sensitive walls of her cringing vagina. She tried to squirm away from the racking torture but her movements only intensified the pain.
Rich slid slowly up her slippery, sweat-soaked body until he completely straddled her breasts. With a quick flick, he brutally grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head forward to meet the harsh thrust of his thick penis. Without mercy, he rammed the massive, turgid head of his cock deep into her gaping mouth until it slapped hard against the back of her throat.
Joan could feel the monster growing inside her mouth as he battered away at her unrelentingly-his heavy balls slapping harshly against her upraised chin.
"Oh God!" She sobbed inwardly, "someone help me! Someone please help me!"
But the giant cock was an overpowering driving shaft pummeling into her soft oval-shaped lips mercilessly, his fingers tore inhumanly between her widespread thighs at her wet, throbbing cunt-and the two giant probes, his finger and his penis, sent blinding waves of pain racing through her as he buffeted himself harshly up and down on her crumpled body.
Rich's breath was coming in short puffing gasps now, with his eyes locked on her open mouth, hypnotically watching his huge penis nailing in and out. He began to lose control of himself as he felt the sperm building up in his balls ready to explode again. He delighted in seeing his great plunging penis driving in and out of her soft, ovaled mouth, but he could hold back no longer. Suddenly he threw his head back in a spastic motion and began uttering strange crazy sounds through his clenched teeth.
Great tidal waves of hot white liquid flooded into her gasping mouth and flowed down the corners of her Tips. Joan thought she was drowning in a great rip tide as she gulped defensively at the white, sticky fluid that flooded through her teeth and tongue and down the cavern of her gorged throat.
Ker tormentor gave one last low gasp as he emptied the last of his burning sperm into her gurgling mouth, then collapsed across her body, winded and exhausted...
When he'd at last regained his breath, he clumsily lifted himself from her motionless body and rolled to his side until he sat on the edge of the bed.
The fat, sweating man looked back down at the still body of Joan Carpenter.
She wasn't making any sound except the harsh rising and falling of her breath. The cruel punishment had been too much for the tortured girl, and as he had withdrawn his softening, wet prick from her mouth he had felt her body slacken as she passed out from the brutal ravishment he had just subjected her to.
He chuckled obscenely as he looked down at her semen-streaked ivory belly and saw the moonlight glinting against the wet glistening rivulets of liquid around her lips.
The fat man rose a little shakily and picked up his clothes that were strewn at the side of the bed, but before he dressed he pulled the almost-emptied bottle of whiskey from his trouser pocket.
He fumbled with the plastic cap and opened it, placing the bottle to his lips and taking several huge gulps of the hot warming liquid. He shuddered involuntarily as the liquid seared down his parched throat and warmed the bottom of his belly.
The bottle empty, he threw it into the comer and hopped clumsily from one foot to the other as he pulled on his trousers and finished dressing.
Moments later in the deadly silence of the room he patted the unconscious girl on one lewdly sprawled thigh, opened the door, and stepped out into the night, a wide grin of satisfaction flickering across his thick, pudgy lips.
* * *
CHAPTER 4
The phone rang four, five, six times and Joan began to hope that no one would answer. Then as she was about to hang up a voice on the other end answered, "Mr. Castle's office." Her voice trembled as she asked for her employer; she knew he would be upset when she told him that it was impossible for her to continue on the case. Joan knew that she didn't have the nerve to tell him what had happened the night before-she was too ashamed, too humiliated, and she couldn't bear the thought of his or anyone else knowing.
"Mr. Castle," she said hesitantly as he came on the phone, "I'm sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I...I can't finish this job...I just can't. It's all so horrible!"
Castle heard the desperation in her voice and knew that something had gone terribly wrong but he couldn't afford to let her quit on him now. The clients hadn't been beating their way to his door the past few months and his biggest client, the one on this case, had enough power to steer others away from him if he failed to obtain these negatives.
"Now, Joan," he answered consolingly, "I realize that blackmail is a bad and tricky business, but what has happened that is so horrible that you want to quit!"
Her hands were shaking as she tried to steady the receiver in her hand, trying to muster enough courage to tell him the whole story, about Rich, about the party, so that he would understand, but she just couldn't.
"Everyone is horrible. I went to a party last night and met Nick Casetti," she paused for a second trying to control the tremor in her voice, "I've never heard of, much less witnessed, such awful, degrading displays. They tried to get me to join in their little parlor games! It was revolting...I'd never have agreed to work for you if I had known what would happen!"
"Well...suppose you tell me exactly what they did," he said, trying to worm the full story out of her without sounding like a voyeur about to get a vicarious thrill. He'd heard of some of the parties thrown by Celia's friends and he doubted that he'd be surprised by anything she told him.
"I'd rather not," she answered, "it would be too embarrassing. Please just take my word for it. It was awful." She had to make him believe that it was the party that had upset her so much-she couldn't tell him about Rich!
"Joan, please believe me. I know this is very hard for you, and I know you're extremely upset by something that happened last night, but you'll have to tell me more. You must realize that this case is very important to me, and that I already have a lot of money and my reputation tied up in it. I've advanced you quite a bit of money and I just can't afford to have you quit." He paused, and then added very gently: "You're probably just upset because it's so recent. Why don't you relax for a little while and call me back. I'm sure we'll be able to work something out. Perhaps you'll see things in a different light."
"Alright," she murmured, knowing full well that no matter how long she thought about it, it wouldn't be any use. She couldn't forget the horrible, degrading way she had been raped and the things she had been forced to do-and she couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't bear the humiliation or the pitying stares.
She put the receiver back in its cradle and stared at it. Why hadn't she thought of some other reason to get off the case before she called him? It wasn't going to be easy to get away now, especially since she could offer him nothing but ambiguous excuses, excuses that didn't make sense, that no one would understand. If she told him what had happened after she came home, she knew that he would go to the authorities and then there'd be a trial...she'd have to testify in front of strangers that she'd been raped by that horrible fat man!...She just couldn't do it!
She lay down on her bed and tears of frustration and helplessness began to stream down her cheeks, dampening her pillow where they fell. Her whole body was trembling, shaking uncontrollably from the uncertainty that lay ahead of her. She couldn't face Celia or those people again...or Rich! She couldn't face them and know that they were laughing at her. She had to think of something concrete to tell Castle, something that would make him release her! She had to!
She dragged through the next few hours, staying in her cabin and trying to avert any contact with Celia, Nick or Rich. She tried to think of what her life would have been like if she hadn't caught her husband with that woman. She'd still be home and happy with Bill, and her life would be as normal as any other married couple's, but now it was impossible. She wanted to be home again, to be able to forget all the horrible things that had happened to her-but she knew that it was only a wishful dream as she lifted the receiver and dialed Castle's number again.
"It's me, Joan, Mr. Castle," she stammered. "I've been thinking about what you said and I'm sorry, but I just can't go through with it. It's impossible, I have to get away from here." Her voice was choked as she tried to stifle a sob. "I have to get away from here before Casetti comes by."
"Casetti?" Emmett Castle tried to conceal the interest in his voice. "Why would Casetti be coming by there?"
"Oh, well, he'd invited me to dinner tonight," she answered haltingly, "but I can't go now, please, I really can't."
"But, Joan, don't you see how much better this is? If you go out with him tonight and get the information we need, everything will be over. Just one more day!"
"Oh, no, please...I can't. I can't stand the thought of being near him," she cried out brokenly, "please don't make me do that."
"Joan, I'm sorry," he replied, "but you have to. Otherwise everything will have been for nothing. I can't let you off the case right now. Remember that I did advance you your salary and expenses on this job and if I pull ycu off now I'd have to get someone else to take your place. And there's no telling when the right opportunity would arise again." He paused, hoping that he hadn't antagonized her. "Joan, look, let me increase your salary by fifty dollars, maybe that'll soften the blow a little. What do you say to that?"
There was a long pause as she thought about what she should do. She needed the extra money now that she no longer had Bill to depend upon, and it hadn't really been Nick Casetti who had been so horrible to her. But, she just felt so dirty.
"Well..." he asked, "what do you think. I'm waiting."
"I guess that I could try it a little longer, just tonight, but if tonight doesn't work or if it gets any worse, I will have to quit."
"Very well. I'll have a check in the mail to you today. But, try to stick with it..." then he added softly: "And be careful."
Castle breathed a sigh of relief as he hung up the phone. At least she had agreed to continue with the investigation, even if he did have to give her more money. Money that he couldn't afford, but he could afford even less to be unsuccessful in this case.
Joan stayed in her room the rest of the afternoon trying to think of some way to get some information on the negatives without having to be in the company of the people who had attended the party the night before. But her thoughts were shattered about four o'clock by a knock on her door.
"Who is it?" she called out tremulously, hoping that it was neither Celia or Rich.
"It's me...Nick Casetti," the voice answered.
She stood motionless for a moment, almost afraid to open the door. Then she slowly walked over and let him in.
He stepped inside and stood there smiling warmly at her and she thought that he really was a very charming man, but she had to remind herself that he was a blackmailer and no one to fool around with.
"You're looking lovely again today," he said, grinning sheepishly at her. "I'm sorry if you found the party a bit out of hand last night, but please don't judge me too harshly."
"I thought it was in very poor taste," she stammered, not wanting to blurt out naively that it was the most degrading, embarrassing situation she'd ever found herself in.
"I know that the crowd can be very rough and crude at times, but how about forgiving me and, at least, don't back out on our dinner date," he asked, his eyes almost pleading.
She really didn't want to go through with it but knew too, it was the only way she could fulfill the bargain she had made with Emmet Castle.
"Very well," she said, relaxing a little. After all, she thought, it might just be fun, especially if he is really sincere about making up for the party. "Terrific," he said. "I'll pick you up about eight." He winked at her and left.
She watched him walk away from the cottage. His walk was assured as was his smile. It was still difficult for her to believe that this handsome, charming man was really a blackmailer and that he had done some horrible things just for money, but he was supposed to have the negatives and it was up to her to get them. She almost wished that she had met him under different circumstances, that it hadn't been through a job and that she hadn't known what his game was.
She prepared very carefully for that evening, wanting to look as alluring as possible in hopes that he would invite her to his place for a drink and she would have the opportunity to search for the pictures. Once she had them in her possession she could leave and let her life get back to normal, but she wasn't quite sure when that would be.
The dress she wore clung suggestively to the full, rounded curves of her body, accentuating the soft, fullness of her ripe bosom, the narrowness of her waist and the slight bulge of her hips. Her long, slightly muscular legs curved gracefully beneath the hem of the short skirt and the material hugged the contours of her round, full buttocks as she walked.
She looked in the mirror and decided that she was still a very attractive woman, even though that first glow of youth was gone. She was a woman, full-bodied and she wanted all the other things that women want...a husband, and a home and children. She still didn't understand why Bill had turned to another woman. She had given him all the love and attention he wanted, never refused him the conjugal bed. It had been a blow to her ego, her pride, her whole being, and had knocked some of her confidence out from under her, but as she saw her reflection in the mirror, she knew that she still had what it takes to catch a man.
* * *
Nick arrived at eight on the dot, bringing her a small corsage of tiny roses and greens. His eyes traveled over her body and he whistled appreciatively.
"Well, I wouldn't have believed you could look any lovelier than you did last night. You look absolutely magnificent...truly beautiful." The words were almost like oil as they came from his mouth. He was smooth, almost too smooth.
She smiled back at him and thanked him for the flowers and the compliments, but she wanted to get out of her place quickly, she didn't want to have to fight him off, not just yet. She could tell by the way he looked at her that he would definitely make a pass at her, but it had to be at his place. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to look for the negatives, and that was the whole purpose of her being there or even having dinner with him.
She casually took his arm and steered him toward the front door.
"We'd better get going, I'm starved," she said, smiling up sweetly at him.
"Sure thing, baby, anything you say," and they headed for the door.
He drove down the highway for about fifteen miles and then turned off onto a road that looked as though it was rarely traveled. She didn't want to appear nervous, but she didn't like the idea of being out in the middle of nowhere with him either.
"Where are we going?" she asked, trying to keep from sounding as though she didn't trust him.
"Oh, there's a little place just off this road about a mile down. The owners are very good friends of mine and the food outstanding. I'm sure you'll like it. I know it's a bit out of the way, but you look so lovely tonight, I don't want to have to fight my competition off."
His manner of speaking seemed very sincere, even though she knew that these were lines that had had many rehearsals. She leaned back in her seat and tried to relax, tried to think of some way that she could suggest going to his place without his taking it the wrong way. She hoped that he would be the one to suggest it, because she knew that if she did, he would take it as an invitation and that she didn't want, not even at the expense of the negatives.
A few minutes later they arrived at a quaint little road stop cafe. It was very small, only about twenty tables filled the room and the decor was that of an Eighteenth Century pub or hostel. A flight of stairs disappeared into the darkness in one corner of the room and she surmised that this was where the proprietor lived. Music was piped in from somewhere, although she didn't see any speakers and the furniture was scratched and chipped, but it had a certain charm all of its own.
A burly, red-faced man greeted them as they came in.
"Greetings, Nick, good to see you again way out here...and what a charming, lovely lady. You must be doing something to please the gods!" He grinned at her and led them to a small table in one corner of the room. A few other couples were seated at tables, but it certainly wasn't a booming crowd and she wondered how they ever could afford to stay open.
"Just down at the lodge for a few days," Nick said, speaking to the heavy-set man. "So I thought I'd come back for some more of your great cooking."
"Glad you did," he answered, turning to walk to the kitchen, but giving her the once over another time. She didn't really like the way he looked at her, but she had dressed this way to attract Nick, so she couldn't really blame the other man for looking.
"Would you like a cocktail," Nick said, reaching across the table and gently brushing her hand. "But let me warn you, the drinks here are strong."
"I think I'm old enough to handle a martini or two," she said, feeling quite brave for some unexplainable reason. "With two onions," please.
He motioned for a waiter to take their order and in a few minutes she was slowly sipping her martini, feeling the warmth of the alcohol burn her throat as it went down. She looked up at him, blinking and said, "I see what you mean about potent drinks. This has to be a triple."
"Well, the old man doesn't do it on purpose. He-likes me and thinks he's doing me a favor by giving me strong drinks. Actually, sometimes it does more harm than good." He laughed as he said it, knowing that she had caught the double entendre.
"There's no menu here, by the way," he added, "but I can tell you that whatever this place puts out, it is fantastic. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. If you don't, then we'll just leave and go somewhere else. Fair enough?"
The strength of the martini was beginning to warm and mellow her insides and she could feel her whole body relaxing from the affect of the alcohol.
"I'm sure everything will be just fine," she answered, smiling back at him. "I really don't have any preference when it comes to goods anyway."
In a few minutes the owner came out carrying a tray with three different kinds of wines, a white, a red and a full bottle of champagne. Instead of asking which they preferred he set up two ice buckets for the white wine and champagne and placed the red on the table.
"Isn't that a bit strange," she asked, looking at the array of bottles.
"Not here," he said, "he believes in good drink, excellent food and superb company. I happen to be blessed with all three tonight!"
She couldn't help but smile at his flattery. He certainly knew how to make a woman feel desirable.
He poured her a glass of the chilled white wine when she had finished her martini, toasted her and took a long sip of the drink. The martinis had made her a little dizzy, but she kept thinking that she had to watch herself so that she could work effectively later on in the evening, but he was so charming it was difficult for her to remember that he was a blackmailer and she had to get the negatives. She hadn't been treated so well in such a long time that it was actually very pleasant.
When they had finished the bottle of wine the dinner was brought to their table. She had never seen quite so much variety of food, hot and cold appetizers, soups, mixed grill and chilled fruit.
"They certainly go all out for such a small place," she remarked. "It's just wonderful. You're right, I do like it." Her head was spinning and her words were coming out a bit slurred, but she was so relaxed that nothing mattered anymore.
During the meal they finished the red wine and champagne and she found it difficult to keep her balance as she got up to go to the ladies room after they had finished. She balanced herself on the chair and the waiter came to her assistance.
"I'm afraid that I outdid myself on the martinis and wine," she giggled.
"That's quite all right ma'am," he said cordially. "It happens to the best of us at times."
Nick watched her as she weaved her way to the powder room, watching the sensual movements of her hips, bouncing slightly as she walked. She doesn't wear a girdle, he thought and he smiled to himself. Perhaps that would make it easier to get between those long, slim legs.
Joan tried to regain her composure once inside the privacy of the ladies room, but even the cold water she splashed on her face did not erase the effects of the alcohol. He rose when she returned to the table, supporting her gently with his hands and guiding her into the seat.
"You feel all right," he asked sympathetically.
"I'm a bit dizzy," she admitted sheepishly, half embarrassed, but really too high to care.
"Well, maybe some fresh air will do you some good. Let's go back to the lodge and have a nightcap and I'll take you home." he said.
"I could use the air," she said. "That usually does the trick."
Her mind was blurred, but she remembered that she had to go back to the lodge in order to look for the negatives and this was a perfect opportunity. She wished that she hadn't drunk so much, but at least she didn't have to jeopardize herself by her suggesting going back to his place.
He helped her up and steered her towards the door and out into the cool night air. The breeze against her face felt refreshing and she was beginning to feel a little better. On the drive back to the lodge she kept her window open, letting the night breezes caress her face, hoping for a sobering effect. The drive seemed to take forever, but maybe it was because she was just anxious to get there, find the negatives and get out.
Finally they drove up the long driveway to the lodge and he stopped the car. She sat there waiting for him to come around to her door and let her out. He reached in and offered her his hand, letting his eyes wander down to the low cut neckline of her dress which revealed the deep cleavage and the round, fullness of her breasts. She caught his eye for a moment, but decided that his look was one of admiration for her figure and not one of lust.
"You still look marvelous...enchanting," he said, as he pulled her gently from the car seat. He steadied her with his arm as they walked to the lodge, letting his hand wander a little further up on her body until he was almost cupping one of her ripe, soft breasts with his hand. His actions were so innocent, as if he were really trying to help her that she didn't say anything. Besides, his strength was reassuring and she almost felt the urge to collapse completely into his arms just to see if he would support her. .
I can't think this way, she remembered, but he was being so considerate and gentle that she had to fight the impulse to completely surrender herself to him.
The lights of the lodge almost blinded her as she walked into the main room and she blinked so that she could focus.
"This will never do," he said, turning off the main switch as they went in. The lights darkened and the only glow came from the fireplace and the roaring fire.
"Quite a romantic setting, isn't it," he said, looking at her smiling and seating her on the large, overstuffed couch.
"Sit right there and I'll get us a nightcap...not too strong. Sherry all right?" he continued and walked to the kitchen, not waiting for her answer.
She looked round the room, searching for the doorway that would lead to his study or bedroom. Surely he wouldn't be so obvious as to keep the negatives in the living room. That would be too easy, besides there wasn't a desk or any other place that he might have hidden them in that room.
While he was in the kitchen she called to him, "Mind if I use your bathroom while you get the drinks?"
"Not at all, it's through that door to your right and off of the bedroom," he answered.
She struggled out of her seat and made her way through the doorway he had indicated. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water so that if he heard her he would think that she was indisposed and not bother to come in.
She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs so that she could be more effectual in her search, which she began by opening the dresser drawers. She looked in all the obvious places first, under the socks, in back of the drawers, under the bureau slip, but without luck. There was a small cabinet on one side of the room, and she tried the drawers. They seemed to be stuck so she tugged at them hoping to pull them out, but lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.
Damn, she thought. It's locked and that must be where he keeps the negatives.
As she was struggling to her feet she looked off to one side and saw Nick standing just above her.
"Looking for something," he demanded harshly.
"No...nooooo...I just lost my balance," she stammered, trying to remain calm.
"I've been watching you for the past few minutes. What possible interest could you have in my bureau drawers, that is, if you just fell." His eyes were cold as he glared down at her. "But if you insist, let's forget the whole thing and have our drink."
She couldn't really believe that he would let it pass so lightly, but maybe she had convinced him that she was just drunk and didn't know what she was doing.
He helped her off the floor, pulling her up by the armpits and letting his hands run down the curves of her body, pulling her in closely to him as he lifted her to her feet. His mouth came down hard against hers, bruising her lips with a passion filled kiss. She tried to push him away, but her strength had been sapped by the alcohol.
"Let's go into the living room," she finally managed to stammer as she squirmed her lips away from his. "It will be more comfortable."
He led her to the other room and sat down beside her on the couch.
As she sank into the soft, fluffy pillows her short skirt rode up above her knees revealing her smooth stockinged thigh and a slight ring of supple, white flesh where the garter belt held the stockings. She tried to straighten her skirt, tugging at the material, but his hand stopped her and his fingers gripped firmly into the fleshy softness of her thigh.
Her head was spinning and it was difficult for her to resist him, and she couldn't take the chance of his discovering her real purpose of her visit, that is, if he didn't already know! She had her suspicions, but as long as he had not accused her outright, she would have to take her chances.
Her skin was peach color, flushed from the alcohol and looked deliciously smooth, He wanted to grab her, run his hands over the white, full hills of her breasts, but restrained himself.
"Please..." she stammered as his fingers continued to hold her leg firmly.
She reached down to pick up her glass of sherry, but he caught her fingers and pressed them to his lips.
"You are so beautiful...so desirable," he said.
She didn't know what to say, so she just met his piercing glance hoping that he would let it go at that.
Her lips were parted sensuously as if she were about to kiss him and he bent quickly and crushed his mouth onto hers once more, his tongue quickly slipping between her parted teeth. His hands moved to the cliff of her barely covered breasts and massaged the soft mounds that jutted up pertly above the constricting material. She moaned softly, trying to pull herself away from his urgent embrace, but he would not release her. His strength was overpowering, his mouth was devouring hers, passionately, demandingly.
Her breasts felt warm and soft beneath his touch and she could feel the bulge inside his trousers growing, his penis throbbing and sticking out like a hidden revolver.
"Stop...please..." she finally managed to stammer, pushing him away from her with one last burst of strength. "We mustn't...I can't.. . " and her words drifted into silence.
The desire that was burning inside his trousers was as hot as the raging fire in the fireplace and he had to have her! He pushed her roughly against the cushions of the couch, his hands fumbling and grabbing at her clothing and every inch of uncovered flesh his searching fingers could find, pinching harshly.
Tears of frustration began to stream down her face and she thought...it can't be happening again. What have I done to deserve this! Her struggles were fruitless and weak, the alcohol had taken care of that. She was completely at his mercy.
"Please let me up...please," she begged, hoping that he would relent, but knowing deep inside that it was useless. He was like an animal, urgent and fiery...demanding.
He tugged at the thin material of her dress, grabbing the neckline and tearing it away from her body so that her round, full, soft breasts were protected only by the lace of her brassiere. His mouth sucked at the voluptuous mounds of her flesh, biting cruelly as if he were trying to take all of the fullness in his mouth at once.
She lay back, her eyes closed tightly together as if she could block out the nightmare that was happening, but she couldn't. Why had she drunk so much...why...why!
He was crushing her with his weight, but the couch was narrow and he kept slipping when he tried to move on top of her body. She could feel the heat of his penis through the material of her dress that hung loosely around her waist and thighs. He stood up, grabbing her by the arms and dragged her into the bedroom, throwing her roughly on the bed.
"No...no...no..." she almost screamed, but her voice was choked and she couldn't get the words out.
He pressed heavily down on top of her and could feel her loins squirming underneath him, trying to get free, but the hot, heavy weight between his legs was not to be denied. He clawed at her clothing, ripping the remainder of her skirt and throwing it like a rag to the floor. Her breasts jutted out proudly from beneath the brassiere and he grabbed them roughly, pulling them free from their harness, tearing the lace in shreds until it too fell onto the bed.
His face pressed against the smooth, soft mounds, biting and sucking at the tender, pinkish brown nipples, forcing them into involuntary erectness and she moaned weakly. His hands wandered down to the narrowness of her waist, gripping the taut, white flesh harshly, and down to the fleshy bulge of her hips. Her body was covered only by the thin black bikini panties, the garter belt and the black silk stockings. His fingers wormed their way beneath the tight elastic of her briefs and fumbled anxiously for the quivering treasure that lay beneath.
Her hips bucked up against him in an effort to throw him off, but this merely incited him more as he felt the softness of her hips bumping into the hardness of his hot, throbbing cock.
She managed to throw him off for just a second and with a quick gesture he reached down and undid the zipper of his fly, pulling his massive cock out and displaying it, grinning down at her. He tapped it with his hand and it swayed from side to side like the boom of a yawl, hard and long. Before she could roll over he threw his entire weight on her, gripping her knees and forcing them back against her full, soft breasts until they were squashed beneath her knees. She was bent back almost double and could not move. He moved up on her body and she could feel the urgent, huge cock jerking against the flimsy material of her panties and she knew that it would be useless to fight. His fingers tore at the material, trying to push it aside so that he could enter her, but the tightness of the elastic and the size of his mammoth penis prevented penetration into her open vaginal lips for the moment.
He was like a wild man, his breath hot and rapid, his hands cruelly demanding satisfaction from every inch of her body. His hands grabbed roughly at her soft, round buttocks and he began to finger her from behind, prodding and pushing, searching for the clasp that held her garter belt. Finally he found the tiny hook and unsnapped it with a wild tug and her stockings wrinkled around her thighs as the pressure from the garter belt was released. She now lay vulnerable and at his mercy as he pulled her tiny, thin briefs down over the fleshy bulge of her hips.
She was open for him, the black stockings ending half-way up her trembling thighs and he moved towards her, thrusting his hips forward, his penis jerking like the antenna of some monstrous bug. She tried to close her legs to prevent entry, but his hands pulled them cruelly apart and he stared at the forbidden portal he was about to desecrate.
With one swift movement he maneuvered his pulsing, jerking cock between the tender lips of her vagina, teasing them, prodding them before her entered her.
"Ohhhhhh god..." he choked out hoarsely. "Oh...god..." His whole body ached like he was one complete phallus demanding satisfaction. His hips ground into her, forcing the massive, purplish head of his cock between tY sensitive wet lips of her quivering vagina and into the tight, dry channel.
"Stop...stop...you're hurting me..." she moaned. "Please...stop!" But her pleas fell on deaf ears.
She no longer had the energy to fight him, so she tried to pull her hips back into the mattress of the bed, but the deeper she sank, the harder and faster he was on top of her. She could feel the bedsprings digging into her back until she ached horribly when with one final, cruel stab he penetrated her to the very depths of her belly.
"Noooo," she whimpered, trying to fight the growing tingling at the hair covered apex of her long soft thighs.
He drove his huge, throbbing rod of flesh into her until she felt her whole belly would split. She ached, but as he pounded away at her channel she could feel the walls of her vagina contracting around his massive cudgel, embracing it in an animal, natural reaction. Somehow the obscene rape began to excite her, adding fuel to the growing fire between her legs. She had never felt such hardness or length in her life...she had never been so filled with a penis!
"God, you're tight...soooooo goooood..." he rasped as he could feel his testicles smacking hard down against the back of her uplifted thighs and buttocks.
He forced her knees back against her shoulders to allow for even deeper penetration as he ground into her like a pile driver. He could feel her passage begin to lubricate as he fucked her...harder...deeper.
"Tell me to fuck you..." he demanded..."Tell me!"
She could feel herself reacting to this ravaging man in spite of herself and she whispered, "Fuck me!" She couldn't believe that these words were coming from her mouth, especially to a man who was raping her. Maybe it was true that every woman deep inside really wanted to be raped!
The pressure in his loins was at a boiling point and he knew that he was about to shoot his sperm deep into her, plant his seed deep inside her quivering belly. She could feel his penis grow thicker and more urgent as he pounded away harshly at her body, and her body was reacting to his with the same urgency.
"Here it comes...now..." he gasped and she felt the flood of his hot cum as he rocked out his climax inside her. When she felt the once hard, erect, massive penis emptying itself inside her it brought her to her peak and she groaned, "Yes...now...me too...I'm cuninmimmmmmming...ooooooh...oooooh yes!"
When he was completely spent he fell onto the bed beside her, his penis limp and wet, his breathing uneven. She closed her eyes as tears began to well up inside her, as she was ashamed, humiliated, completely degraded. She couldn't believe that she had actually enjoyed and reached an orgasm with this strange, cruel man.
He turned to her and said, "You were wonderful..."
She couldn't turn to face him, knowing that she was blushing from embarrassment, yet completely fulfilled.
"One thing puzzles me, however," he continued. "You don't seem like the type to go rooting through someone else's drawers for money or jewelry. Just exactly what were you looking for." His voice was no longer tender. He had had her body, he was satisfied and now he wanted to get down to business.
"Nothing...really nothing...I was just drunk..." she stammered, but she knew that the quiver in her voice was betraying her. She couldn't look him in the eye and deny that she was looking for something else...something else much more valuable to him.
He got up from the bed, dressed and walked to the door, glaring back at her.
"I'll have to think about this for awhile," he growled and walked out into the other room, closing the door behind him.
She lay on the bed for some time, tears streaming down her face. Her whole plan had been frustrated and now he was wise to what she was after, of that she was sure.
About an hour later, she went into the bathroom, washed and got dressed, trying to pin the remains of her dress closely around her. When she tried the door of the bedroom to go outside it was locked.
"LOCKED." she said out loud. "Oh my God...He's not going to let me go!"
"Nick," she screamed, but she was answered only by a pregnant silence and then a cruel, wicked laugh from the other side of the door. She slumped back onto the bed in stark realization that she was being held a prisoner.
CHAPTER 5
Bill Carpenter arrived in Reno on the six a.m. flight from San Francisco and took the airport limousine in to one of the hotels on the fringe of the gambling town.
After he had checked in he spent almost three hours, and made about forty phone calls to various hotels and motels, before he finally found that his wife had registered at the New Dawn Dude Ranch. When the voice at the other end of the phone had answered with the name of the dude ranch, Bill had asked if Joan Carpenter was there. He had learned after about the tenth call to other motels that it was better to ask if she was in rather than if she'd registered. Each time he'd asked if someone had registered the clerk had either been reluctant to give out the information or had refused altogether.
The strange and disturbing thing with the last call had been that the person who had answered had mistaken him for someone else. Bill sat now in his hotel room and tried to reconstruct the whole conversation. He remembered the man's voice as he answered.. .
"New Dawn Dude Ranch," the man had said in a slow drawling voice.
"Hi, is Joan Carpenter in?" Bill remembered that he had tried to sound as casual as possible so that the man wouldn't be alarmed and possibly try to hide something.
"No, she sure ain't, Mr. Castle. An' we checked her room and don't look like she came back at all last night." The man had paused, and then added: "It won't do any good to keep calling, Mr. Castle. I tol' you we'd call you as soon as anything turns up."
It was then that Bill's sudden alarmed gasp had made the man suspicious.
"Hey! This ain't Emmett Castle! Who is this?"
Bill told him then who he was but the man had clammed up and wouldn't say any more, only that Joan wasn't there...
Emmett Castle. It was the only clue that he had, the only clue to something that had happened to Joan. It was obvious that this man Emmelt Castle had called several times and that he was worried about Joan. What could it mean? What could have happened?
Bill sat there for several minutes trying to plan some course of action. He could go out to the dude ranch but it didn't sound if he'd be able to find out very much. If only he knew who this Castle character was.
The phone book!
It only took him a few seconds to find the listing in the phone book, and his hands trembled slightly as he dialed it. He had no idea what the connection might be between Joan and Castle-and then he thought ironically that there might even be someone else! After all, she hadn't even come home the night before.
After he finally got through the secretary the conversation with Emmett Castle only took a few minutes.
It was shortly after four in the afternoon when Bill reached Castle's office. The private investigator hadn't wanted to go into the situation on the phone-he'd only told Bill that there was a possibility that Joan might be in some kind of trouble and had asked him to come over to the office as quickly as he could.
At first, when Castle told Bill what he had asked Joan to do, Bill had wanted to hit him-but then he had realized that the man hadn't really expected anything to happen. In fact, Emmett Castle seemed to be almost as upset as Bill himself.
Castle briefed him on everything that had happened and told him where Nick Casetti's lodge was located, and then he added:
"Bill, listen this guy is no one to play with. I'm not sure you should even be going over there." Then he saw the expression on Bill's face and knew there was no way to dissuade him, and continued:
"Okay, I realize I can't stop you, but we have to have some sort of plan in case there's any trouble," he paused, "alright, here's what we'll do. While you're over at Casetti's, I'll go out to the dude ranch and see if I can find out anything else." He stopped and checked his watch. "Bill, it's about twelve-twenty now. If I don't hear from you by, say three o'clock, I'll call the cops and we'll get out there immediately. That alright with you?"
Bill nodded in assent and got up to leave. Then on impulse he turned back to the investigator.
"Emmett, I don't know what I'm going to run into out there, or how things are going to work out between Joan and me but I want to thank you for everything you're doing." They shook hands, and though Bill was quite a bit bigger than Castle he found a lot of assurance in the man's strength and decisiveness.
Moments later his foot pressed the accelerator harder as he passed the outskirts of town and headed for Nick Casetti's North Shore lodge.
* * *
Joan Carpenter stirred restlessly in the huge king-sized bed, her head buried in the tear-stained pillow to shut out the sound of her convulsive sobbing. She hadn't slept at all during the night, had only lain there in the frightening darkness and cried as her body shook with the pain of her brutal ravishment and the agony of her tortured memories.
It can't be! It can't be true, she thought. Oh my God! Please...please make it all just a horrible dream. Please let me wake up and find that none of this has happened!
Suddenly, she heard a sound. There was someone opening the door! She turned, to beg Nick to let her go. She waited for him to open the doorshe'd promise him anything if he'd just let her go. Oh God. Please!
"Get up!" the man told her harshly.
"Nick...I...I..." Then her eyes cleared as she wiped the tears away. It wasn't Nick Casetti, but some other man she had never seen before.
"Get up, kid. The Boss wants to see you." His deep voice rumbled menacingly across the room to her as he folded his arms and waited.
Joan shrank back against the pillows and pulled the covers up like a flimsy suit of armor to protect her from the huge man that stared so lecherously down at her nakedness.
"Get up, I said! The Boss ain't got no time to wait for some cunt." He crossed the room, lightly and quickly for so big a man, and ripped the covers from her.
He laughed viciously as she jerked her legs up and tried to cover her nude body and then grabbed her brutally by the ankle and yanked her until she slid right off the end of the bed and fell sprawled at his feet.
She cowered beneath him, crying and trying to cover her head from the further blows that she expected any minute.
"No...no...please don't. I can't stand it...Don't hurt me ANYMORE!"
"I ain't gonna' hurt you, kid...not unless you give me some kinda trouble. NOW GET UP!" He chuckled as he leered down at her cringing body. She looked like a cowering animal, but the most beautiful animal he'd ever seen. Her skin glistened like soft silk in the sunlight that streamed into the room and her frightened trembling only excited him more.
Man, I'd like to get some of that, he thought, and then realized that he'd better get her down to Nick before he got pushed out of shape. Who knows, he laughed inwardly, Nick may turn her over to me yet.
He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet.
"Please...let me get dressed...I'll go with you."
"Dressed?" He laughed as if it was some sort of great joke. "Baby, you ARE dressed! Just like he wants you."
He pulled her stumbling behind him as he led her to the door.
She struggled violently. I can't go down there like this! I can't! She tugged helplessly, pushing with her other hand, trying to get her wrist out of his painful grasp.
He growled, and turning quickly he slapped her viciously with the back of his hand, and knocked her to her knees.
"Don't play, kid! Or I'm gonna have to hurt you!" He jerked her back up again and pulled her through the door.
Nick Casetti lounged back in the big leather chair as Joan's captor pushed her violently through the door into the den. As she caught her balance, he nne and smiled thinly at her-in the black silk robe he looked like a king cobra poised to strike.
"Bruno, take it easy. We don't want to bruise such a lovely package, do we?" He laughed softly and meanly. "Or should I say, such a lovely spy?"
He motioned to the man, Bruno, to leave the room and as the door closed again, he looked up at Joan through his unblinking eyes and smiled.
"Sit down, baby, you and I have a little to talk about."
"Please, Nick...let me go. I swear I won't say a word to anybody...please, I swear!" She pleaded with him, and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to cover her nakedness with her arms.
"Happened? Baby, nothing DID happen. Do you really think anyone will believe that I raped you?" He laughed again at her. "You're the one that wanted to come to my place!" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Yeah, you're the one that wanted to come here...and we hardly knew each other."
"Al-alright, Nick...see, I can't do you any harm. Won't you please let me go?" The pleading words caught in her throat as she spoke, and her body shook with convulsive sobs...
"SHUT UP!" The naked violence in his voice stopped her cries like a pair of scissors snipping a recording tape.
"There's another little matter I'd like to talk to you about." The menace in his words rode just below the surface like a stalking barracuda.
"I couldn't figure why you were snooping around my dresser last night so I started putting a few things together-like why you were so anxious to come to my place, and the way you so conveniently ended up in my bedroom when you were supposed to be going to the bathroom." His voice hardened as if his ego had been threatened. "It was pretty obvious from the way you fought me that you didn't come over here to go to bed with me, so that left only one reason-you had to be looking for something."
She sat trembling, not saying a word. The realization that he'd found her out, that everything had failed, had sobered her completely. The tears had stopped and she'd even forgotten that she was sitting before him totally nude.
"I'd never met you before," he continued, "so it couldn't have been anything you wanted personally." He paused.
"WHO HIRED YOU?" His fist slammed against the edge of the desk. "Who sent you over here...and what did they want?" He half rose in his chair and leaned toward her, his eyes glinting like black beads of obsidian.
"It was that prick, Castle, wasn't it? That stupid bastard thought you could find some little pieces of film for his client, didn't he?" He saw her eyes widen at Castle's mention, and chuckled. "So, it was Castle, huh? Well, baby, you made a sad decision when you listened to that punk and tried to go up against Nick Casetti!"
He was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Yeah, what is it?" he shouted, annoyed at the intrusion.
"Me, Bruno, I found a surprise for you, Boss."
"Stay there, I'll be right out." He got up and turned to Joan. "Don't go anywhere, baby." He smiled menacingly. "You and me got a little more talking to do."
He walked past her and closed the heavy door to the den behind him. Casetti was outside several minutes and while he was gone Joan tried frantically to think of some way to get away from him but she knew that it was virtually impossible. The place was just too well guarded.
Suddenly, the door reopened and he came back into the room. Joan glanced fearfully up at him and was shaken by the strange expression on his face. The menacing hardness was gone and had been replaced with an almost joyous expression. A strange look of eager anticipation, like a cat looking at the struggling occupants of a fallen fishbowl.
"Baby, my boys found a strange prowler on the grounds," he chuckled threateningly, "an acquaintance of yours."
Her tortured mind whirled as she tried to absorb the meaning of his words. An acquaintance? Emmett Castle! If it wasn't Mr. Castle, who could it be? But her questioning thoughts were broken as Nick Casetti called out to the closed door.
"Bring 'em in, boys...we're going to have a reunion!"
The door swung open, and she sat motionless almost afraid to turn around and face the man she had been working for. There was a crashing sound as someone was thrust violently into the room, and then she heard him.. .
"JOAN!"
She spun around, trying to comprehend the familiar voice.
"Joan, what have they done to you! My God! You bastards!" her husband's voice shrieked as he saw her crouching there nude. "You bastards!" He tried frantically to break away from Bruno's grip and rush Nick Casetti, but the other man in the doorway grabbed him from behind and he was only able to strain helplessly as his wife's tormented eyes stared up at him.
"Oh, Bill...No!...NO! NO! NO! NO!...Ohhhhhh...Bill!...please, Bill, get me out of here...GET ME OUT OF HERE." She screamed wildly, trying to reach her husband's arms, but the man at the door pushed her cruelly back onto the couch.
"Baby," came the snarling voice of Nick Casetti, "I'm afraid Sir Galahad here ain't gonna get you outta nowhere!"
He motioned to the two men holding Bill. "Tie him to that chair over there." Then he turned back to Joan. "Baby, you're going to provide a little entertainment for your hubby," and he laughed as he saw the horrified expression in her eyes.
"You rotten son of a bitch!" Before Bill could say any more Bruno's fist had smashed into his mouth, sending a spray of blood onto his shirt.
"Gag him!" Casetti said, and then turned back to Joan. "Yeah, you and I are going to do a little bit of playing." He looked at the struggling man strapped into the chair. "Your wife made a serious mistake, Mr. Carpenter. She tried to play me for a sucker, an' I'm going to have to teach her a lesson." He laughed quietly. "Why don't you just sit back and relax, Carpenter. You might enjoy this!"
He waved the two men over to the couch where the pale, trembling girl was crying softly. "Get her off that couch, boys, and open it up into a bed."
One of them pulled her to her feet and held her to the side while the other reached down and unfolded the couch until it opened into a large double bed.
"Get her on there. On her knees, with her ass facing me!"
The two men grinned expectantly as they threw the crying girl onto the bed. She struggled frantically to get away but they grabbed her arms and squeezed them even harder until a sobbing cry of agony broke loose from her throat.
Shaking with blinding rage as he sat pinned in the chair, Bill's eyes flashed wildly above the white handkerchief that gagged him and glistening beads of helpless sweat poured in dribbling rivulets down his face.
Bruno and the other man brutally threw the girl onto her stomach and then pulled her hips up until the quivering nakedness of her buttocks waved high in the air completely exposed to everyone in the room.
"Jack, get on the bed and hold her...hold her tight!" Casetti sat back in the chair with the same contemptuous smile on his face as one of the men kneeled down on the bed and pressed her head down tight into the softness of the mattress. She struggled helplessly against his weight, small mewling cries of fear and pain drifting piteously from her open mouth.
"Bruno...use your belt."
The huge man looked down, grinning, at the full ivory roundness of the girl's buttocks, at the exposed, shadowed crevice between them and then he unbuckled the thin black leather belt around his waist and slipped it from his trousers. He wrapped the end twice around his hand and then he swished the leather through the air, smiling at the whistling sound it made. Then he raised both hands and held the full length in front of his face. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarling grin, and he lashed the belt down across her white, quivering buttocks.
She screamed as her back arched and her limbs dragged against the pinioning hands. A thin red welt appeared across the soft roundness of her buttocks. It cut the smooth, white ovals almost completely in half with a long red weal, making a dark cross form over the quivering cleavage.
Again the big man grinned as he brought the belt down across the terrified girl's ass. He could almost sense it sinking into the firm flesh. She uttered an agonizing sob as her face and full hanging breasts ground in pain into the bed.
She screamed over and over in helpless agony, but it didn't seem to satisfy him and with a grimace of fury he raised the thin leather band and brought it down again and again across her squirming bottom and thighs until they were a mass of dark red-streaked weals and she had gone limp, fainting from the pain of the depraved whipping she had just endured.
Nick Casetti was leaning forward tensely over his desk, his eyes wild and unfocused. The sight of the beating had aroused him into an orgiastic frenzy, and he rose from his chair and untied his robe.
Then he seemed to calm down for a minute as he turned and grinned at Joan's husband who struggled helplessly in the chair. He nodded to the two men to try to revive the unconscious girl and then stood and watched them, his robe open and parted by his monstrous, swollen penis. The huge cudgel jutted out from his loins like the raised third leg of a tripod, wavering slightly, and it was possible to see the veins pulsing beneath the skin.
There was a soft, agonized moan from the couch as the girl began to regain consciousness, and Nick Casetti grinned lewdly as he realized that soon she would be completely awake and at his mercy.
He walked over and lifted her head by her long hair and watched the wakening tears overflowing her eyes and streaking her cheeks.
"Pull her back up like she was before," he demanded, and laughed as he added: "I want that nice, soft, white ass in just the right position!" He grinned triumphantly back at Bill.
"And, hold her head up so that he can see her."
Jack, the man who was pinning her arms with his knees, held and turned her head until her eyes looked straight into her husband's. She stared almost sightlessly, and her eyes held his with a desperate horrified expression as if she couldn't believe these things that were happening to her, pleading with him to save her from the horrible ravishment she knew was momentarily coming.
Nick Casetti stripped off his robe, revealing a slim, muscular olive-skinned body. His muscles flexed as he moved toward the helplessly pinned girl and his huge, throbbing shaft swung like the boom of a great loading crane.
He reached her and put his hands on her buttocks and held them there for a moment like a blind man judging something by his sense of touch.
"Soft and smooth like silk," he said, and turned back to Bill as if for agreement.
He spread them with his thumbs, pulling the soft, resilient cheeks apart and gazing into the crevice his touch had revealed. He studied the puckered flesh of her anus, caressing it with his fingertips. He probed at it lightly with one finger, completely unheeding her piteous moans, and then ran his hand further down until it nestled in the very edge of her exposed cunt. He held his fingers almost still, barely and only lightly running them across the yielding hair-lined lips, and grinned back at the smiling faces of the two men with him.
He moved his hand slowly back to the wrinkled anal opening and then, standing casually as though he were admiring a painting in a museum, he again began to delve his fingers into the softness of her anus. She squirmed painfully beneath his touch but her movements only succeeded in grinding his finger deeper into her.
Casetti just chuckled softly, turning again to smile at the man struggling in the chair in the corner and stroking his great pulsating penis fondly with his free hand. When he'd finally buried one finger to its hilt in the sobbing girl's quivering rectum he withdrew it slightly to allow himself to insert another finger next to it and then he began to dig into her with both of them, spreading and stretching the tiny hole as the girl whimpered beneath him in misery and pain.
All the while he just leaned back studying the movements of his delving hand almost unconcernedly.
Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and his other hand from his swollen penis, and then with both hands began to again knead at the silken softness of her buttocks molding them like soft plastic clay, and spreading them wider apart with each massaging movement. Holding the trembling cheeks with his fingers outspread, he inserted the tips of his thumbs at the outer edges of the tiny, red opening of her rectum and began stretching it with increasing pressure...
The tortured girl struggled helplessly in the grasp of the two men, her eyes wide and pleading, rimmed with tears, and her back and bottom still striped from the cruel whipping she had received moments before.
Then, without warning, her lewdly grinning tormentor moved forward suddenly-his prick a rock-hard javelin-and pushed at her tiny, puckered anus with the immense swollen head of his cock.
She let out an abrupt agonized scream just as it jammed and stuck, unable to penetrate the tiny hole.
"Push her back hard against me!" Cassetti said to the man, Jack.
Roughly the man shoved the crying girl back at the stiff prick, pushing at her shoulders and laughing aloud at her soft, choked moans.
The irresistible wall of the little, red aperture met the immovable object of Casetti's rigid, pulsing shaft. And the irresistible wall gave way.
The girl uttered a sudden shriek and the cords in Casetti's neck strained as her anus oozed painfully over the swollen glans of his penis. Her face was contorted with pain and humiliation and her eyes looking helplessly into her husband's, closed shamefully under long wet lashes. Casetti stood almost still, barely jerking his prick into her with very little effort, leaving all the work to the two men. It was they who held the girl, manipulated her body like a puppet, pushing her back to be impaled on his thick shaft, and then pulling her forward again.
A scream escaped her lips, and her eyes opened for a second. They contained a look of utter degradation. Then she was silent, but her lips trembled uncontrollably as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Casetti moved into the girl almost impassively. Occasionally his lips opened and expelled breath, or he reached forward and stroked the girl's breasts as she bent in piteous subjugation before him. He ran his hands almost dancingly across her buttocks as the men carried her body forward and back to him for impalement. His prick moved tightly in the crease of her buttocks. Every time they pulled her forward, the inflamed anus was pulled outward with his withdrawing penis and then sank again inward as they moved her back.
Her lips bled where she bit them; the blood mixed with the tears that had fallen to her soft, reddened lips. Her eyes had opened again and seemed to have glazed over. They had a hollow look, as if her mind had given way behind them. Her abdomen swelled and hollowed, and her lips continued to tremble. The slender strained muscles furrowed and rounded in her thighs, as the rough hands levered her onto the prick and pushed her down its full length and then hauled her back again so that her tightly clasping anus enclosed only the tip.
"Move her around harder!" Casetti commanded.
The men took her shoulders roughly and began to shove her harder, rotating her slightly-and Casetti stood still and tensed himself deep inside her until his massive weapon swelled even larger, stretching and probing around in the dark, rubbery well of her rectum. The girl groaned. Feeling came back into her eyes. Feeling and agonizing pain. She looked pleadingly and hopelessly at Bill, but he was bound powerless in the corner and could do no more than close his eyes and try to shut the sounds of her cries out of his tortured mind. She cried again and again as her body was ravaged, the sobs deep in her throat as the shameless sodomy continued.
Casetti still had no expression except for the jut of his jaw, the withdrawal of his lips from his teeth, Occasionally he would turn around and his hard, cold eyes penetrated the very depth of Bill's mind.
The girl suddenly began to weep solidly. The tears flooded from her eyes, ran down her face and dripped from her chin onto her breasts.
Abruptly, Casetti stiffened. He tensed forward, and his eyes left Bill's and dilated, fixed downward on the girl's quivering white buttocks and his own flesh as it appeared and disappeared deep down in the tight, clasping hole. Then he gave a sudden hoarse cry, thrust several quicker thrusts, and came inside the girl's pain-wracked rectum. He flooded his sperm into her soft, dark depths and then his legs trembled as he slowly began to pull himself away from the girl.
The two men helped him, pulling the girl forward and letting her collapse, softly moaning onto the bed.
Casetti stood silent for a moment as if he was trying to regain his composure, and then he straightened and turned triumphantly to the man straining violently in the chair.
"like that better than a stag movie, Mr. Carpenter?" he said, and broke into uproarious laughter at what he considered to be a very funny joke.
The enraged husband struggled frantically at the cords that bound him, and then by scraping his chin roughly against his shoulder he was able to pull the gag down far enough to speak.
"You filthy, rotten bastard! I'll kill you...I'LL KILL YOU!" Before he could continue, Casetti had crossed the room in what seemed to be a single leap and his fist crashed thunderously against Bill Carpenter's jaw, overturning the chair and the man bound into it. Then, grabbing him by his lapels and with one great effort, he righted the chair and the man in it. Twice, almost like the shots from a rifle, his hand cracked across the stunned man's face. He moved quickly behind the pinioned man and brutally retied the gag so tightly that the flesh of the man's face was painfully pinched against the taut cloth.
"Bruno!" he shouted angrily.
The heavy-set man at the side of the bed turned immediately, almost snapping to attention.
"Bruno, Carpenter here don't like the way we're treating his little wife." He chuckled menacingly. "Why don't you give it a try, and see if maybe you can't please him!"
The huge man's flashing smile crackled across his face immediately, turning into a strange lewd smirk as he leered down at the trembling girl. Goddam! It had happened! The Boss had turned that lovely little piece over to him!
"Hey, Boss. Alright! 'll see if I can't stretch that little pussy open a little wider!" He started frenetically to strip off his clothes as if he were afraid Casetti might change his mind.
In a moment he stood towering over the cowering girl, his great throbbing cock jutting proudly out at a forty-five degree angle. He leaned forward and ran his huge rough hands over the still-red weals on the girl's quivering back and then looked at the other man who still remained on the bed.
"Jack, flip this broad over on her back and grab her ankles. Man, I can't wait to get at that pretty little pussy!"
The other man, looking a little disgruntled at being left out, did what he was told. But his anger made him grip her cruelly as he turned the sobbing girl over and grabbed her legs. He wrenched them fiercely back toward him until she was rolled backward almost into a fleshy human ball, her legs high in the air and her buttocks and the scarlet lips of her naked vagina were completely exposed to the leering eyes of Bruno and Casetti.. .
Bruno stroked his huge, swollen shaft meditatively as he stared down at the helplessly quivering cuntal opening below him. Already, the massive head of his prick was glistening with escaping seminal fluid, and it seemed to swell and deflate like a living animal.
Suddenly, with a roar like a ravenous beast, he bent his knees slightly and plunging forward, drove the great shaft deep into the beckoning, wet well of the girl's cunt.. .
She let out a piercing scream as the lusting man drove deeper and deeper into her recoiling flesh. Again and again he pounded into her.. .
Casetti and the man straining in the chair had a clear view of the massive whitened shaft appearing and disappearing, wet and glistening, again and again into Joan Carpenter's ravaged body-each pummeling thrust bringing another escaping painful moan from her open, contorted lips.
With each evading movement of her straining hips he plunged deeper into the hot, wet pussy-pounding into her until his tremendous, pulsing prick pounded against the soft, firmness of her cervix hidden so far down in the softness of her body.. .
It seemed to go on and on.
The whole area between Bruno's legs was a hot, wet blaze-a liquid fire, like fiery lava or molten metal. Over and over he rammed his great thickness into her.
Bill watched helplessly as the roaring beast of a man ravaged his wife. His mind spun in horror as he tried to imagine the terror and pain Joan must be feeling. The skin of his wrists and ankles was torn and bleeding in small droplets as he tried ineffectually to break loose from the ropes that held him.
Then he saw his wife's tormentor shudder visibly and begin to straighten as he reached his orgasm. He saw the man's body jerk again and again as he poured torrent after torrent of burning, white liquid deep down into his wife's writhing body.
CHAPTER 6
Bill Carpenter sat almost still in the chair in the bedroom. His fists clenched and unclenched as he tried to control his quivering rage. His wife lay on the bed, still unconscious from the tortuous ravaging and still striped with welts from the vicious whipping.
He watched her and felt the hot tears welling in his eyes each time her body shook convulsively from the pain of the cruel treatment she had received. Every word, every action that had occurred in the den was burned indelibly in his mind...carved into his brain with agonizing and startling clarity. He knew that he would never be able to rest inside until he had found some way to repay
Casetti and his henchmen for what they had done to his wife.
After Bruno had finished with her, Joan had fainted, and much to the other man's disappointment, they had been unable to revive her. They'd slapped Bill around a little more, but the pain that he'd felt watching the vicious rape of his wife had completely blocked out any other senses, and he'd been able to feel almost nothing as they knocked him around.
Then, he'd been dragged back to this room, while Bruno had carried the helpless, unconscious form of his wife, and they'd been locked in again. Bill had seen from the look on the other man's face, Jack, that it wouldn't be very long before they'd return-probably for Jack to take his lusting turn on the ravaged girl.
Bill himself had been almost unconscious when they brought him to the room and they'd left him untied. Probably because they either felt he was too weak to do them any harm, or because they were so confident of their invulnerability that they weren't even worried about him. One thing had been totally clear to Bill. Casetti couldn't let them leave alive, not after what they'd done to Joan-and with him as a witness!
He struggled painfully out of the chair. He had to stand still for a moment and try to get the strength back into his legs before he could walk. Then, trying to be as quiet as possible because he was sure Casetti had left one of the two men posted outside the door, he began to try the windows in the room to see if they offered any possibility of escape.
There was none. They were locked, and through the shutters Bill could see iron bars blocking any exit.
He tried the door, looking through the keyhole, but couldn't see anyone. Then, just before he touched it and tried to open it, he knelt down and with his face pressed close to the floor he could see the shadow of someone's feet outside. So they had left someone to guard the door!
Suddenly, he heard a groan from the bed as Joan started to come around. He ran quickly to her side and pressed his hand gently across her mouth. She jerked in fright, her eyes wide and piteously scared, until she realized who he was. He put a finger across his lips to indicate silence, and then held her tenderly as she wept quietly and convulsively against his shoulder.
Finally, she began to calm down until he felt that she was conscious enough to be aware of what he had to tell her. He whispered softly to her for several minutes, seeing her nod as the tears still streamed down her cheeks.
When he had finished outlining his plan, he kissed her tenderly on her trembling lips and tried to smile to assure that nothing would go wrong. He wished as he searched through the room that he himself really was confident that everything would work out the way he'd planned. But, he knew there was no choice! There was no doubt that Casetti would have to get rid of them, and there was no way of knowing how much time they had left. It had to be now!
Finally, by the fireplace he found a heavy shovel used for ashes and he picked it up noiselessly and stepped behind the door-and nodded to the sobbing girl on the bed.
"YOU'VE KILLED HIM!" She screamed at the top of her voice. "YOU'VE KILLED BILL...HE'S DEAD!...HE'S DEAD!" She kept screaming over and over again...and then Bill heard a key being inserted in the lock from the other side of the door.
Just as he had hoped, the man guarding them feared nothing from the naked girl, and thinking Bill was dead or unconscious, he hadn't worried about opening the door.
It opened, and the guard stepped in with his gun in his hand, and saw the screaming girl pointing to an empty chair. He saw the chair and realized he'd been tricked, and spun around-just in time to catch the full force of the shovel across his neck. He dropped soundlessly, dead before he hit the floor. The shovel had crushed his throat and broken his spine.
Bill stepped over the body, wishing that it had been Bruno instead of the other man, and closed the door again. He picked up the gun that had slithered from the man's lifeless grip-and looking at it was thankful that he'd had considerable experience with a .45 in Korea.
He helped Joan up from the bed. She turned away from the bloody form on the floor with a shudder and trembled as he helped her into a robe from the closet.
"Joan...darling, we have to be very quiet." He whispered to her with as much assurance as he could muster, and led her to the door. "I don't know where Casetti or the other men are-but don't worry, I'll get you out of here."
She followed him soundlessly down the hall. The house was silent except for the click as he cocked the action of the revolver. They were just passing the door to the den, and heading for the front door, when Bill froze in front of her and pushed her back against the wall.
"Bruno, get over there and check on those two. Jack should have been..." Casetti's voice broke the silence.
The door opened.
Interrupting the last of Casetti's words, Bill hit Bruno with his shoulder and knocked him backward into the den-the blasts from his pistol thundering through the house. All three shots caught the big man high in the chest and tossed him like a rag doll against the far side of the room...
Casetti scrabbled frantically for the drawer of his desk for a second before he realized that it was useless. Then he straightened with the same strange, sardonic smile and faced Bill.
"I've underestimated you, Carpenter. Congratulations." His voice was cool, sounding almost unconcerned-and it was then that Joan realized that the man had to be demented. His calmness was so unnatural that he seemed inhuman.
"You're a dead man, Casetti," Bill said softly. "Joan," he said over his shoulder, "get out of here, I don't want you to see this."
She started to move back.
"Stay there, Joan!" Another voice behind them spoke manacingly. "Drop your gun, Mr. Carpenter, or your wife is the one who'll be dead."
Joan spun at the sound of the woman's voice.
"CELIA!"
Casetti laughed, as Bill's gun hit the floor. "Yes, it's Celia." He chuckled again as he looked at the frustration on Bill's face. "You shouldn't feel as if you've accomplished nothing, Mr. Carpenter. Actually you've done me quite a favor." He reached into his desk and pulled a gun from the drawer, and leveled it at Joan and Bill.
"Why doesn't everyone sit down?" He motioned with the gun. "Quite a favor, Carpenter. You took care of Bruno, and also, I would assume Jack...you saved me from having to do the job myself." He nodded at Celia Johnson. "You see, Celia and I are leaving-and we really couldn't afford to have any witnesses to some of our business propositions, not even Jack or Bruno!"
Then Celia turned to Joan.
"Speaking of witnesses, Dear, I owe you an apology. I thought you had been with Joe the other night, and I was the one who sent Rich over to see you. It was a silly fit of pique, I'll admit, and when I found out I had been mistaken I had to take care of Rich." She laughed harshly. "That poor fat man! It'll be a long time before they find his body, if the buzzards and coyotes don't take care of that first."
Joan sat speechless as she realized what the woman had done. She'd sent Rich to rape her and then killed him! It couldn't be true, she had seemed so nice!
"Well, enough of this talk," Casetti said as he stepped around from behind the desk. And then he turned back to Celia Johnson, and added harshly: "And you, I'll talk to you later about this thing with Joe and Rich!"
Celia Johnson jumped up.
"What do you mean, you'll talk to me later!" The woman shouted. "Without me, you'd still be a cheap, greasy gambler! Who do you think brought you where you are?" She laughed coldly. "If I hadn't walked in just now, you'd be dead!"
Casetti looked over at her, his eyes black and unblinking.
"Yes, that's possible," he said calmly. "But, as you can see, I'm not." And shot her.
The room rocked with the suddenness of the acrid blast, and the woman bounced lifeless against the edge of the couch before she crumpled to the floor, the dark red stain already spreading across the front of her blouse.
A thin smile of satisfaction momentarily crossed Nick Casetti's face as he backed toward the door of the den. "One less witness, and one less loudmouth," he said as he stepped into the doorway.
Joan fell, almost fainting into Bill's arms, sobbing uncontrollably with her head buried against his shoulder...and he held her as he waited for what he knew was coming...
"You two move back, against the wall," the man in the doorway said softly. "I have to admire you, Carpenter. You tried." Then he added, almost regretfully: "You realize I have no choice," and raised the gun.
In an instant, no more than seconds, that seemed like an eternity Bill felt Joan trembling against him and his mind fought for the right words to say to her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, and so little time...
"Joan, I love you..."
Then the room rocked with the shattering blasts of two quick shots.
EPILOGUE
The reverberating echo of the shots slowly faded and Bill Carpenter stared, stunned and uncomprehending, at the grotesque expression on Nick Casetti's face. The dead weight of his wife hung in his arms as she collapsed against him and then the silence in the room was broken as Casetti fell heavily to the floor.
Emmett Castle stood in the doorway, over the gambler's body, with a smile on his face as he replaced his revolver in his shoulder holster. Then Bill saw the other men, the policemen, behind him and it slowly began to dawn on him what had happened.
Joan! She sagged limply in his arms and Emmett Castle must have noticed the sudden expression of terror on Bill's face.
"Don't worry," he chuckled, "she's only fainted" and as he spoke Bill felt Joan stir in his arms. He picked her up and carried her over to the couch, then he turned back to Emmett Castle.
"Emmett...I...I don't know what to say...how to thank you," he stammered. "He was going to shoot us." Bill paused, and grinned. "In fact, I thought he had!"
A policeman had briefly examined the bodies of Bruno, Celia Johnson, and Casetti and Castle had to step out of his way before he turned to Bill.
"There's nothing to thank me for, Bill, you did me a favor by giving me an excuse to shoot that bastard. All I did was wait, and when I didn't hear from you I knew something had gone wrong and called the cops-then I led them ovei here." He stopped to drag on his cigarette. "We heard the shots outside, and I got in just in time to hear Casetti..." He was interrupted by a moan from the couch, then he continued.
"Bill, Joan's coming around. Why don't you get her out of this mess and take her outside for some fresh air? I'm going to take a look around for some things I'd rather the police didn't find," he said softly and clapped Bill on the shoulder and left the room.
Bill turned to see Joan moving restlessly on the couch and her eyes opened as she gave a sudden cry of fright. He took her in his arms, and in a few seconds her trembling ceased.
"Bill...w-what happened...I don't understand...I thought he was going to..." Her voice broke as she saw the bodies on the floor and the policemen preparing to cover them with dark rubber sheets.
"Joan...everything is alright! Come on, darling, let me take you outside and I'll explain everything," Bill told her hoarsely. The realization that they really were still alive, and the shock of being so frightened just moments earlier was beginning to make him feel a little nauseous and he quickly pulled Joan to her feet and led her outside into the fresh afternoon air.
He had just finished telling her how Emmett Castle had happened to show up with the police when Castle walked up with a grin on his face.
He pulled them aside and said conspiratorially, "I got them!"
They both stared at him, unable to comprehend what he meant.
"Hey! I got them, the negatives!" He laughed and patted Joan on the shoulder. "I got to them before the cops started searching the house, and I have you to thank for it, Joan."
Joan smiled weakly. "I'm glad you found them, but I don't think I'll ever go through something like this again-not for a million dollars!" And she looked up at Bill for assurance.
He squeezed her and turned her around to face him. "Don't worry, darling, we're leaving on the first plane and I'm taking you home where you belong."
Emmett Castle realized that they'd completely forgotten he was there, and he turned quietly and walked away-leaving the two of them oblivious to anything except their new-found happiness.
