"Sexual desire," writes Dr. Erich Fromm in his book, The Art Of Loving, "aims at fusion and is by no means only a physical appetite, the relief of a painful tension. But sexual desire can be stimulated by the anxiety of loneliness, by the wish to conquer or be conquered, by vanity, by the wish to hurt and even to destroy, as much as it can be stimulated by love. It seems that sexual desire can easily blend with and be stimulated by any strong emotion, of which love is only one." It was within a riptide of these varying emotions that lovely, sensual Doris Clay found herself enmeshed. She thought she was no stranger to sex, until the vice lords showed her the outrageous perversions of white slavery.
CHAPTER ONE
My name is Doris Clay and I'm twenty-one years old. I'm old enough to vote and certainly old enough to crawl in the sack with whatever guy happens to take my fancy at the moment.
You can call me conceited if you like-I'm not, really-but I know I'm quite a chick. I'm a natural blonde-five-foot-four, one hundred ten pounds-with blue eyes and I have all the curves in the right places. Guys consider me very sexy looking. They stare at me when I pass by on the street.
I know they do, I'm not a dumdum. They always want to dance with me at parties, to get their hands on me. I'm glad they do. Any girl who doesn't attract men in this way ... Well, I feel sorry for her. She's missing out on one of life's greatest thrills.
I'm no strikeout in the brain department. I was only sixteen when I graduated from high school, third in my class, and I got through college early. I tell you this because I don't want you to think I'm a stupid chick.
What I'm trying to tell you is this: I happen to like men very much. To me, there's nothing as exciting as meeting a good-looking guy and making a hit with him. If he likes me, I want him to take me home with him and do things to me properly. I want him to be a man all the way. I can't stand half-men; they make me slightly ill. I like to see a man who knows what he wants and then takes it. In short, I'm a normal girl who loves-an active sex life. Some people may not think I'm too normal, but when I use the term I'm making reference to a healthy, wholesome type of woman who is willing to admit sex into her life and not run away from it, as some do. This puritanical type of girl is a menace to society, and I really mean this. They ought to have their asses paddled. Unfortunately, they never get them paddled.
I remember this one night in particular.
I was hard up for a date, so when this Mother's Big Boy called and asked for one, I told him okay. He came around to my apartment smelling like Mother Love. Man, the perfume and talcum that cat wore; it was enough to drive a girl straight into a nunnery. I don't like men who smell sweet and precious. I want them to smell like men.
Well, anyhow, he took me to this club-he drank Coke, I drank whiskey-and we sat there and sat there and never once did he ask me to dance. I brought the subject up once and he told me he would like to dance with me, but he had a sore back and the doc had told him to watch it with the dancing bit. I didn't believe this for one moment. I knew he was just scared he couldn't cut it on the dance floor. I daresay he was used to dancing around the living room with Mama. That type of guy doesn't mind dancing with his moth-er-she won't criticize him, he feels, or if she does it will be gentle, acceptable criticism that he can bear up under.
Oaf.
So we sat there and I listened to him tell me about his work, his mother, his aunt, his grandmother, his art work-he never did explain this clearly-I gathered he drew pictures.
As the evening wore on, I was getting more and more fed up with this dainty excuse for a man, so when he complained of a headache and told me he'd better go home, I said it was all right with me, man, you go home and I'll stay and try to have some fun by myself. He looked hurt but not too much I supposed he figured I'd pay my own half of the bill il I remained. I said good night to him and he was man enough tu smile and tell me I was a good spoil what did he think I was-a crepehanger?-and then he cut out for home and mother.
It's pretty dumb sitting at a table in a nightclub all by yourself, but that's what I did for a few minutes.
I looked up after a time and saw this tall, dark-haired guy coming over to my table. I recognized him as being the comedian on the show.
"Hi," he said. "You alone?"
I stuck a cigarette in my mouth. "No, I'm here with the National Guard. They're in the men's room taking aim at the moment."
"And checking their equipment, I suppose," ho quipped, and sat down.
I was equal to it. "This particular unit has no equipment."
He smiled and I noticed right away that he had beautiful, white teeth. They were real, too, not just caps. "You can't win without the right equipment," he said.
I figured this was enough of that, so I looked into his eyes in a certain way and he lit my cigarette with a gold lighter.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure," he said nicely. "Very pretty girl."
"Thank you."
"And so was the guy you came with," he added.
I laughed. "You may be right."
"May I take you home?"
I took a puff. "No, you may not."
"Oh, and why not?"
"I just got here."
He laughed. It was a nice-sounding laugh. It sounded like a man. "I like girls who have a certain wit about them."
"Thank you."
He leaned forward and touched my arm. "Say, are you going to hang around and catch my act? "
I shouldn't have said it, but I did. "Why? Do you throw it?"
His teeth gleamed. "Mind if I use that?"
"I don't mind."
"May I buy you a drink?"
"You may."
He ordered two drinks and we sat there sipping them until some cat came over and told him it was time for him to go to work. He excused himself, smiled and started to move away from the table, but came right back.
"I'm Rap Gordon," he said. "Who are you?"
"My name is Doris Clay."
He grinned. "Have you feet of the same material?"
"Sometimes."
"Good. Hang around."
"I'll try to."
"You don't have to laugh at my jokes."
"Why not?"
He laughed. "You're something, baby. I think well have fun."
"Good thinking. Now let's see if you can convulse me."
He laughed again and was gone. The lights came up on the floor and pretty soon the band started playing a fast tune and a fat gal came out and pretended she was Mistress of Ceremonies, or whatever it was she was trying to do. She did a lot of flappin' and sang a song about sugar daddies or some such nonsense and finally brought out The Man.
He was pretty good, though I admit I'm no judge of comedy, necessarily. The trouble was that in his routine he did a lot of jokes about his wife, which made me wonder if he had one.
Like: "My wife loves to argue. Other night I cleared my throat and she took the opposing view."
And: "I married a Texas girl. She has the fastest gums in the West."
Or: "My wife has a speech impediment-one mouth."
He went on like this for twenty minutes and I was beginning to think he would never knock it off, but he did and when the show was over, came to the table and sat down again.
"Well?" he said.
"Good," I told him. "Do you really have a wife?"
"No. That's just my act."
"I'll have a double shot," I told him.
I'll say this for the guy-he knew how to handle a girl. He took me to a plush restaurant and fed me a big steak. He didn't keep on with the flip stuff but seemed like a sensible, nice guy. He was certainly handsome, but he didn't act conceited about it, and I liked him for that.
He took me home with him and as he stopped in front of his door while he found the key, I had one terrible moment. I thought he was going to kiss me good night and go in by himself.
He kissed me, all right, but not good night. He put his arm about me and drew me inside the place and shut the door.
"How do you like it?" he asked, evidently meaning his apartment.
"Turn on the lights so I can see and I'll tell you."
He laughed and turned them on. It was a nice place. Strictly a man's hangout. I walked around the room looking at things, seeing the cups he had won playing tennis, basketball, and so on.
"I see you're the athletic type," I commented.
"I like to wrestle, too," he said, and went and got a bottle-the better to make me with, my dear.
I let him pour his expensive Scotch down my throat for about thirty minutes. Then I called a halt to it-I was beginning to feel like one of the Wright sisters.
"Had enough?" he asked, capping the bottle. We were sitting on the sofa now.
"Yes," I said. "Enough to drink," I added meaningfully.
"I like you, Doris."
"So do I."
"I wish you could stop making fun of me." This brought me up short. "I'm not, Rap. I like you, too."
He kissed me wetly and, man, it was nice. "I think I'd like to undress you, baby," he told me. "Don't you know for sure?"
He laughed. "You're quite a character."
I didn't know what else to do, so I laughed with him. When all the hilarity had ceased, he reached over and put his hot hand on my leg. "You do something to me, baby," he began. Damn it. For a moment there he had sounded like the Mother's Boy.
I sighed. "All right. What is it I do to you?"
"You inspire passion in me, baby."
"Inspiration is generally followed by perspiration."
"Hey what are you-a comedy writer?"
"I'm a girl."
He drew back and inspected my tits. "I believe you," he said.
"I was beginning to wonder," I said drily.
He laughed. "You mean, I'm not moving fast enough?"
"You aren't exactly running the hundred in nine flat."
He startled me a little by picking me up and carrying me to his bedroom. Ordinarily this would have startled me quite a lot, but he had to spoil the eifect by tripping on a rug. Both of us fell on the bed with him on top and I could have sworn my back was broken. When we got through bouncing on the bed, he raised himself and began to laugh his head off.
"Boy, what a comedy routine," he laughed.
"Ha," I said.
He looked at me seriously. "Are you hurt?"
"I'll be okay if you'll just get off for a few minutes."
"All right. I'll get off, but I warn you. I won't remain off."
I smiled at him. "Now you're talking."
He got up and I sat up and tested my back. It seemed to be okay, but my stomach hurt a little where he had fallen on me. He was a big man and must have weighed about one ninety.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
I figured what with him being a comedian I might as well make a joke. "I don't know. I haven't felt it."
He sat down on the bed. "Can't you ever be serious?"
I blinked my eyes at him. "I'm serious."
"You really want to feel it?"
"It depends. What condition is it in?"
His eyes took on a sudden look of lust that thrilled me. "It's hard," he said flatly.
Probably it was all that whiskey I had drunk. I'm not usually so casual about it, but I said, "Why don't you take my pants off and let me test it out."
The look that came over his face was really something. "Do you always talk like that?" he asked.
"Sorry. Did I startle you?"
"Y-yes. A little, but I like being startled in that way."
"It's your move, man," I said.
The comic in him appeared on the surface. "What are we doing, playing checkers?"
"Yes. Your jump."
"You're a hot little bitch, aren't you?"
"I'm hot. I'm no bitch," I said stiffly. "I don't like that kind of remark."
He flushed a little. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive. It was only a term of ... endearment."
"Okay. I accept your apology."
"But you really want me to lay you, don't you?"
Well, what did he think I wanted-a physical check-up? "I'm a woman," I said. "You're a man. We're on a bed. Something should happen."
I felt his hands tugging my pants off. He took them down over my feet and flung them aside. His eyes were full of lust now and I suppose mine were, too.
"Never met a girl just like you before," he muttered.
I figured we had talked enough, had fooled around long enough, so I lay back and sighed and looked at him from beneath my eyelids. It had the desired effect on him, for he panted a bit, pushed my skirt high and began to run his hot hands over my thighs. Naturally, I loved this, so I spread my legs a little and he went between them. When I felt his fingers touching my clitoris, I moaned and opened my eyes all the way.
"You know something," I gasped. "You know how to drive a girl crazy."
He didn't say anything, but I saw the lust go from his eyes to his lips, seemingly. He pulled open his pants and removed his cock. I couldn't see, it, though I wanted to very much. I felt him a moment later and when he said it was hard, it was no exaggeration. He was extremely hard, and that's the way it's so good.
He lowered his body onto mine and began to make the insertion. It hurt, but it hurt good, if you know what I mean.
"Hey," I breathed. "You're quite a guy."
He was equally breathless. "And you, you're quite a girl. Can you feel it?"
It was a crazy question. "Yes. I certainly can. Go slowly, will you? At first, anyway."
"Yes," he said, breathing faster now. "I'll try not to hurt you too much."
"Oh ... I don't mind ... I like to be hurt ... a little."
He pushed his prick at me and I felt the penetration, all the way. I thrust my pussy up to meet him and this seemed to inspire him, for he began pumping me vigorously.
Thrill after thrill shot through my body as I wrapped my legs about him. I was afraid he would move so fast and hard that contact would be broken. I naturally didn't want this to happen-this man felt too wonderful. It was almost unbelievable.
Instead of holding himself up with his elbow, he placed both hands under my butt and held me in a tight, vise-like grip. I couldn't have moved away from him if I had wanted to, which I most definitely did not.
"How does that feel, baby?" he asked, his breath coming faster.
"Wonderful."
"Want me to speed it up?"
I had never known a man to ask that. "If you want to. You're the guy."
He began screwing me furiously and again the thrills ran through me at such a rate of speed that one seemed to be tied to the other. I was gasping for air now and, I think, moaning like crazy. He hit a very sensitive spot in me then and I felt the rise of it all. The sweat ran off his face down onto mine and I loved it.
"Take me, baby!" I whispered, my voice hoarse.
He took me.
He took me like mad, and afterward I lay there as limp as a wet rag.
I can hardly remember him taking me home afterward, but I know he did because when I awakened in the morning I was in my own bed, but alone, I'm sorry to say.
I lay there and looked up at the ceiling, recalling the way he had looked as he lay above me.
I wished he were in bed with me now.
I wished someone was.
Anyone at all. I was that hot and bothered all over again.
I sighed and went through the whole thing in my mind. Sometimes, when no guy is available, this is almost as much fun as being in bed with one. Almost, but not quite.
I got out of bed, went to the shower room and bathed for a long time. Refreshed, I got dressed and went to work. I could scarcely keep my mind on my job all day long.
When the workday was over, I returned home, got myself a bite to eat, took a shower and put on a new pair of lounging pajamas. I kept wondering if Rap Gordon would call, as he had promised. The evening wore on and nothing happened. The phone didn't ring, the door buzzer didn't make a sound. I glanced at my watch, noted it was nine o'clock and knew he wasn't going to keep his promise.
I did a lot of sighing for an hour or so and then gave up for the time being. If a man doesn't want to call a girl, he won't, and that's all there is to that.
At ten o'clock I couldn't stand it any longer, so I went to the phone and called the Club Lido where Rap worked. I asked for him and some guy with a raspy, whiskey voice told me to hang on, he'd call him. I waited for several minutes and then I heard Rap's voice.
"I'm mad at you," I said, making my tone sound more playful than I wanted. "You didn't call me like you promised."
"Hi, baby," he said, his tone bright and nice. "Reason I didn't call was I took a nap and overslept. I was late for work, had to walk, couldn't get a cab. I'm very sorry, doll. How are you?"
"I'm fine," I told him, vastly relieved.
"Hey, I'd like to see you tonight. Mind if I drop in at your place about two-fifteen? Don't get through work till two."
My heard jumped. "Gee, that's kind of late," I said, not wanting to sound too anxious.
"Oh ... well ... it was just an idea," he said, sounding down.
"It's a great idea," I said hastily. "I'll be looking for you, Rap."
"That's my girl," he said warmly. "Get ready for a big ... session. I am." He hung up before I could say another word.
CHAPTER TWO
I spent the evening looking at television and myself. I changed my clothes three times before I got the right effect. I have a floor-length mirror in the bedroom of my apartment and I studied myself carefully and by the time two o'clock had rolled around (dragged around would be closer to the truth) I was as ready for him as I ever would be. He didn't arrive until almost two-thirty and when the buzzer sounded, I jumped as nervously as a cat in a dog pound. Before going to the door, I ducked back into the bedroom for a final look at myself in the mirror. I knew I looked great, so I ran to the door and opened it.
"Hi, baby," he said, showing his strong-looking, white teeth. He looked me up and down. "Man, do you ever look sexy. Wow!"
It was exactly what I wanted to hear. "Thank you, sir," I said impishly. I didn't have a chance to say more, for he had grabbed me, thrown his arms about me and was kissing me on the mouth.
Finally, he released me. "You're something, baby. You're really something. Man, do you look great."
I smiled. "Tell me more."
But he didn't. He just stared at me with approval. I had to admit he looked pretty great himself. His dark suit was well-cut and fitted him snugly, but not too snugly. He wore a white shirt with a rounded collar and a dark tie that was tied to perfection. His dark hair was parted on the side and combed straight across his head; it was full on the sides and in the back without being disgustingly long. I'm not one of those girls who enjoys being seen with a guy with long hair. I don't think long hair is a sign of virility-I think it's a sign of something quite the opposite, but I don't go around talking about this-I don't want people to think I'm an old-fashioned nut.
Even his shoes were nicely shined. I liked this. A man who keeps his shoes shines is usually okay. I mean this.
"Would you like a drink?" I asked. lie nodded and smiled. "Thanks, yes. Say ... you seem different tonight."
I had already picked up the bottle and uncapped it. "Oh ... how am I different?" lie worked his jaw around. "Well ... you aren't as ... how'll I say it?-you aren't as flippant as you were last night."
I laughed. "Neither are you."
"Maybe it's because we're old friends, sort of, now. What do you think?"
I smiled this time. "I would think so. At least, we aren't perfect strangers any more."
He laughed and pulled something out of his pocket. "Cap the bottle," he said. "We can drink later. I've got something better." He lit the cigarette and I saw it was pot. The odor of it was strong-it smelled like burning leaves. "Wait till I get it going," he said, and puffed on it, taking in air at the same time. He studied the tip of it, handed it over to me while he continued to suck in air in a puffing manner.
I took the stick and looked at it somewhat dubiously. I had tried the stuff a few times in college, but frankly it had never done much to me. I remembered how a guy had taught me to hold it, making a sort of cup with my fist. I placed my lips over the opening of the cup and sucked in air and smoke. I held the smoke down, even as Rap was still doing, until I couldn't hold it any longer and then I let it out in a rush.
He choked a little and let the smoke out of his lungs. "You didn't hold it down long enough. Here, let me show you.
He took another pull on it, held it down, sucked in air, made choking sounds and so on as he handed the thing back to me. I really didn't want it, but I pulled on it without cupping my hand in the same way he had.
A few moments later he said, "This stuff makes you real sexy sometimes, baby."
I was immediately interested. "Honest?"
"Sure it will. Makes you hotter'n hell. Sometimes it will."
"I've always heard it turns you off sexually."
"Not necessarily."
We smoked that whole stick and darned if he didn't light up another. I helped him with that one, too, and by the time it was gone, so was I.
Almost.
"Whew," I said. "Who lowered the ceiling?"
He laughed oddly. "You're high, baby, that's all."
Well, I knew that. I had expected him to make a clever reply, but all I had gotten was a fact. "I think you're right," I said drily.
He sat on the sofa gingerly and looked about the room. "Does your furniture ever go for walks? "
"No. Now very often. I don't let them out."
He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "You got any female furniture?"
I was high, all right, but not as high was he was. I went along with it. "Yes. That chair over there is female. I never let her go out by herself."
He grinned. "Afraid shell be raped by a gang of sofas?"
"Right. I don't want her raped by sofas."
He thought this was hilarious. He laughed loud and long. He laughed so long I thought he would never stop. But finally he did. "Hey, baby," he asked. "What's so damned funny?"
This shook me a bit. Hell, he was the one doing the laughing, not I. "Nothing's funny now," I told him. "Else you wouldn't have stopped laughing."
"Hey, I never thought of that. You're absolutely right."
"So," I muttered, "what else is new?" lie lay down flat and closed his eyes. "I can see King Arthur," he murmured. "He's on a horse."
"How about that," I said.
"King Arthur is quite a cat," he went on. "But look out! He's riding over this way."
In spite of myself, I looked about wildly. "He is not," I said. "You're making that up."
He opened his eyes. "Come here, Gwendolyn."
"Good grief," I muttered.
"I'm sorry, should have said Maid Marian."
"You should have a drink," I told him, and went and got the bottle. "Maybe if you get drunk you'll come back to earth and me."
"No, no. Come here. I want you to be referee."
"No thanks," I said, the high feeling leaving me gradually. "I don't have a license."
"But the game is on," he shouted. "We gotta have a referee."
"Hey," I said. "Don't shout. The neighbors will call the cops."
He jumped to his feet. "Call Perry Mason," he shouted. "We need a confession at the end of the story."
"Good grief," I muttered again, "what a night this is going to be."
He began pacing the floor. Taking a small cigar out of his pocket, he stuck it in his mouth and continued walking about the room. I watched him in bewilderment until he finally came to a halt near me. "Say," he said, his eyes large, "I need to go to the bathroom. Could you direct me, ma'am?"
I pointed at the bathroom door. "Over there. Help yourself."
He bowed. "Thank you."
He then went to the sofa and stood beside it.
"Hey," I yelled. "That's not it, that's the sofa!"
"Sorry," he muttered. "Which door is it?"
I pointed again and this time he went to the door and opened it. The trouble was it wasn't the bathroom door, it was the one leading to the hallway, lie stepped out of the room. I bit my lips, waited a moment for him to rectify his mistake, but he didn't. I ran to the hallway door, but he was nowhere in sight. I called to him. Finally, knowing he had gone home, I came, back into the room, sat down on the sofa and decided that he, without doubt, was the nuttiest guy in the world when high.
"How can anybody get that high?" I muttered. "What a stinker of a date." I went to bed and rolled and tossed the remainder of the night.
My fool alarm clock went off, as usual, at seven-fifteen and I raised myself sleepily and shut it off. I nearly climbed out of bed, but then I remembered it was Saturday and I didn't have to work. The bank I work in as a teller doesn't open on Saturdays during August. I flopped back down on the bed, stretched my arms lazily, and tried to pass out again, but it was no good. I was wide awake. Any other morning I would have been able to sleep till ten o'clock, but that's the way things are, I suppose.
I got up finally and bathed and dressed and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I nearly screamed when I saw Rap sitting at the table, his eyes glazed and wild-looking.
"Rap," I said. "How did you get back in?"
He lifted his head, shook it a couple of times, and I saw he wasn't as wild-looking or as high as I had thought. "You didn't lock your door," he told me, stretching his arms just as I had. "I came back after the pot wore off, but you were sleeping so soundly I didn't have the heart to wake you up!"
I put my hands on my hips indignantly. "You mean to tell me you deliberately let me sleep alone, Rap Gordon?"
His face brightened. "Hey, that's the way I like my baby to talk. Crazy."
"Oh, Rap," I said, sighing. "You're mean."
He appeared to pay no attention to this. "Baby," he told me, frowning. "Arc you generally as careless as this? You shouldn't he leaving your door unlocked like that. You're a damned pretty girl. You leave your door open ... Well, you're going to get hurt."
"Gee, I didn't mean to, Rap. I just forgot. Maybe I was high."
He shook his head. "Bad business." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry I got so damned high last night, spoiled our whole evening."
"That's okay, you're here now, aren't you?" I looked at him eagerly.
He let his eyes travel up and down my body and it thrilled me. "Man, you look pretty in that light blue, gingham dress."
I laughed. "It's not gingham."
"Come here, baby. I want to touch you."
I was on his lap in nothing flat. He ran his hand up my leg and I felt the pressure of it on my ... you-know-what. He inserted his fingers, once he had pulled my panties down a little. A shiver ran through me and I felt weak all over. His finger began massaging me in earnest and I moaned a little, wanting him to continue and at the same time feeling slightly guilty about letting him do this without my putting up a token struggle.
He picked me up abruptly and carried me from the kitchen. He was a strong man-he carried me as easily as he would a child. The grip his arms had on my body was enough to crush a person, but I loved it, it really sent me to be carried by a powerful man that I liked. He took me to the bedroom and stood holding me over the bed.
"Shall I drop you?" he teased.
"Whatever you want to do," I said, a slight catch in my voice. I was excited and yet I didn't want to appear to be.
"I want to take you, baby, in every way I can think of. How does that strike you?"
I giggled. "You don't beat around the bush, do you, Rap?"
"I do if there's someone like you in the bush." I sighed.
He lifted me high and kissed my thigh, my skirt having been pushed almost all the way up when he lifted me. His lips were moist and terribly exciting. I wished he would do something more to me then and there with his lips, but he didn't.
"You have the nicest, smoothest, tanned skin I ever saw," he mumbled. "How can so much loveliness come in one package?"
"Keep talking that way," I said, smiling. "I love it."
"You know something, baby. You were built for loving."
"I hope so, Rap."
"I could eat you up, baby."
"Why don't you?" I said carefully.
"You mean that?" His grip on me tightened.
"Rap," I said, "don't hold me so tightly. You're hurting me.
He let up on the pressure a little. "Sorry. I want to squeeze the life out of you."
"Put me down," I said.
"What? Have I offended you?"
I laughed. "No, silly. I mean, put me on the bed."
"Oh ... Hey ... you had me going there for a moment." He placed me on the bed and fell on top of me.
"Gee, you're heavy," I muttered. "I can hardly breathe."
"You don't need to breathe. You just need to screw."
I giggled this time. "I have to breathe, you big brute."
He got up quickly and removed his jacket. I saw him take off his shirt and undershirt, too. The hair on his chest really sent me, if that isn't too absurd-sounding. I like to see a certain amount of hair on a guy's chest-it seems to make him more virile-looking, though I've heard that this has very little to do with virility. He lay down beside me and kissed my mouth wetly.
"You make me so goddamn hot, baby," he said, his tone strange.
"And you, me," I replied. I wanted to tell him more, but the words seemed to bo stuck in my throat. lie ran his hand up my leg and grabbing my panties, drew them off me. He tossed them to the floor and placed his hand on my cunt. I sighed and spread my legs a little. His finger began to massage me again. I was wishing he would use something else to do this with, but he kept on with his fing-er-for a time.
"Rap...." I was getting short of breath now.
"Be patient, baby," He muttered thickly. "I like to take my time."
Well, I wanted him to take his time and I didn't. "Okay," I whispered. "Do whatever you want. You're the man, honey."
"Like to hear a girl talk that way. You're beautiful."
I don't know why he hadn't done it in the first place, but now he got up again and removed all of his clothing. He stood there looking down at me and moistening his lips. "Well have to take your clothes off, baby," he muttered.
I giggled. "Sure. You do it, Rap."
"All right," he replied tensely and proceeded to undress me. He fumbled around a lot but finally got me undressed except for my stockings and garter belt, which he left on. "Leave it that way," he said. "I like to see you with your stockings on and nothing else. Man, do you ever look sexy this way."
I glanced at him in a certain place. It sent a shiver up my spine to see his erection so close at hand. He was all man physically, make no mistake about it. His sex seemed to be quivering.
For some screwy reason I became just a little shy then, but I had to say it, so I did. "Put it in, honey, please?"
He laughed tightly and lay down on top of me. I parted my legs and let him go between them. I was perspiring a little now and so was he. He grunted and lowered his hard body to mine. I lay there with lips parted and waited for the "touch" of him, which came almost immediately. There is nothing like the touch. It really drives a girl crazy, that first contact. I could feel the hardness of him probing at me, and finally, entering a little. He grunted again and shoved down on me, and into me. It hurt, but it hurt wonderfully. He adjusted himself, raising himself a little higher up on me and thrust again, and very hard this time. I almost yelled from the pain of it. He was all the way in now and ... brother!
It was like having a piece of long, hot steel buried in your body.
There's a very great difference between being laid when you've been drinking and when you haven't. Often, when you've had too much to drink you lose out on much of the "feel" of sex. Your senses are dulled and, while it can be great when you are high, it's sometimes lessened in quality, the feel. I had just discovered this, or perhaps I should say rediscovered it. As he moved gently within me, chills and hot flashes took turns in passing over me, first one, then the other. His chest bearing down on my breasts felt good, felt strong and reassuring, and exciting. I wrapped my arms about his body.
"Put your hands on my buttocks and press down when I do, baby," he told me breathlessly.
I did so. His buttocks felt hard and warm and as they moved up and down my arms went with them. He hit a very sensitive spot then and I cried out from the sheer pleasure of it.
"Oh ... Rap ... oh ... honey...!"
"Like that?" he muttered.
"I ... love ... it."
The hot, hard tube moved faster, and I cried out again and again as it rubbed my clitoris. Rap grunted and swore at the same time. In his frantic passion he had pulled it out. Immediately, however, he rammed his cock back inside me and I again almost screamed from the pain of it.
"Sorry, baby," he muttered.
"It's okay," I muttered back, and it was.
He pushed my hands aside and grabbed my buttocks with his, holding me firmly in position. Then he began to stroke in an even faster manner. He was going extremely deep now and it was highly satisfying. I didn't remember later how many orgasms I had, but it must have been several.
"Get ready," he cried, but it wasn't necessary.
I felt his release then, heard him groan and suck in air at the same time, felt his body jerk and almost go into a convulsion of passion. He finally slowed down, but still he was releasing. I thought it would never stop.
I didn't want it to, either.
Later, we lay on the bed together with our clothes on. I scarcely remembered putting them on and I doubt that he did, either. We were both spent and exhausted front our frantic sex action.
Both of us were silent for a long time. Then he spoke: "I think we should have taken a shower, baby, before getting dressed. Would you like to take one together?"
If he had suggested flying to the moon in a balloon I would have agreed to do it. "Sure, honey, whatever you h say.
He kissed me nicely and we got to our feet and silently undressed again. We went to the bathroom and he prepared the shower, not too cold, not too hot. He kissed me again and drew me under the water with him, his arms about me. Boy, it was wonderful, just wonderful.
If you've never taken a shower with a man, you're really missed out on something. He soaped me all over thoroughly and then did the same thing to himself. The water ran down over our bodies and each time it struck my back it sent a shiver of nervous something-or-other through me. He told me it did the same thing to him.
"Honey," I said at length. "That's enough. I'm getting weak from all this water pouring over me."
He laughed and helped me step out from under the water. I looked at his glistening, wet body and a surge of desire came over me again. He must have seen the lust in my eyes, for he laughed tensely.
"Never saw anyone as hot as you, baby. You're wonderful."
He got towels and dried me off thoroughly and then himself. Putting his arm about me, he drew me out through the bedroom and into the front room. I felt a trifle funny going into my front room with him wearing no clothes, but he checked the outer door, seeing to it that it was locked, and then made me lie down on the sofa. For a moment I was very hopeful that he was going to make love to me again, but instead he fixed me a drink.
"Drink it, baby. It'll do you good."
I took the glass and glanced up at him, feeling a bit shy again. "All right, Rap, whatever you say." I meant this. I'm the kind of woman who believes the man should do the telling about what is to be done. I can't stand the type of woman who feels she's the one to do the suggesting. Women are not qualified to do this and any girl who thinks so is a fool. Unfortunately there are a lot of foolish women in this country, far too many of them. They all need a good hard kick in the rear end, sure they do. If they got this every so often from their men they wouldn't be so restless and miserable, because they need to be reminded that they are the weaker sex.
"You know," he said, "the more I'm with you, the more I admire you. You're one hell of a woman, kiddo"
I took a few sips of my drink, eyeing his body all the time as he stood near me, his feet spread wide apart. "I love hearing you say that, Rap."
"It's true. There's more woman here than I've ever known before. I've half a mind to ask you to marry me."
I took another drink. I didn't want him to get onto that subject-I wasn't ready to marry any man yet.
He seemed to be studying my eyes. "Okay. I'm sorry. I sec I said the wrong thing. You aren't interesting in marrying a comedian."
I sat up quickly. "Oh, no. That's not it, Rap. Honest. Your profession has nothing to do about it. I just don't want to get married right now."
He grinned. "Okay, baby. I'm not sure I do, either."
"I just want you to make love to me, honey," I told him. "Don't get serious about it, though. Okay?"
He laughed. "I'll be damned. Usually, it's the other way around. It's the woman who talks about marriage."
"I'm ... different, I guess, from most women."
He grinned again. "You sure as hell are, baby, I wouldn't trade you for a half-dozen other women I know."
"Thank you. You do wonderful things to my ego."
The comic in him came out again. "Is that what you call that thing down there-your ego?"
What else could I do? I laughed with him, of course. But what I really wanted was for him to crawl onto me and stick his prick in.
CHAPTER THREE
I was unfortunate enough to come down with a high fever that afternoon after Rap had long since gone home. I tried cold cloths on my head and what-have-you, but nothing seemed to help. When five o'clock rolled around I was really feeling horrible, so I called a doctor and he came over to examine me. He told me I had a three-day virus and that I must go to bed and stay there. I argued with him a little but gave up and told him I would. The truth was, I felt so bad I had to go to bed and stay there. He gave me a sedative and some other pills and told "me to get a good night's rest. I took the sedative about eight o'clock and then called up the Club Lido where Rap worked. I told the raspy-voiced man to inform Rap I was ill, he said he would, and I hung up.
I went to bed and slept till ten o'clock Sunday morning. I was very ill when I awakened. In fact, I felt terrible, worse than I had the night before. I called the doctor again, but he told me to eat something light and go back to bed. I did so, but it was a boring thing, lying in bed all that day and thinking about Rap. Thinking about him wasn't boring, but the staying in bed was.
Funny thing. I was about as sick as I had ever been, but I still had an almost uncontrollable desire for sex. The longer I lay in bed, the stronger the desire became. It actually got so bad-or so good, depending on the point of view-that I considered doing something to myself. I really did. I had a bad time putting this out of my mind-I didn't want to do it to myself; there's something sick about that sort of thing.
Oh, how I wished Rap would drop in after work, but he didn't. In fact, I didn't see him until Tuesday, at which time I was all over my virus but still weak. When he came to my apartment he had bad news. He had to leave town immediately. He was set to appear in Baltimore for two weeks. I was floored by this and, probably because I was in such a weakened state, began to cry.
He stared at me from the doorway. "Hey, what's with you, baby? Don't cry. It's part of my job, going out of town like this."
I was in my old pajamas and I looked a wreck, not having had the strength to fix myself up properly and not knowing he was coming, either. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm still kind of sick, I guess."
He kissed me hurriedly. "I have to go, baby. Promise me something. Lock your door at night, will you?"
"Yes," I said. "Do you really have to be gone two weeks?"
He kissed me again. "Yeah. Awful thing. When I get there I'll call you."
"All right," I said. "I'll miss you."
He kissed me once more. "Miss you, too, baby. Bye."
"Good-bye. Be sure to call me. I'll be right here waiting to hear from you."
"That's my girl," he said, and was gone before I could say another word. Damn it-I hadn't liked the way he spoke the word "girl". There was something wrong about it.
I was lonely for the next six days, but when Sunday rolled around I had gotten over it quite a bit, especially since a man named Harry Brown had asked me for a date, which I accepted, of course. I'm not one to do nothing when a friend is out of town for two weeks. Harry was a guy I had met a month earlier at a party, and I barely remembered him. He was, as I recalled after accepting his invitation over the phone, a rather quiet older man, perhaps thirty-five or so. He wasn't a bad-looking guy; he wasn't handsome, either, but I didn't care about that.
I don't expect every guy I go out with to be handsome. All I ask is that they be ... virile. And clean, of course. Clean and nice and certainly not unpleasant.
When it came time for him to call for me I made sure I had taken The Pill-Harry Brown might be the quiet, older type, but that didn't mean he was dead or that I had any desire to be careless about important matters. I took a contraceptive pill every day. Any smart girl does. It was no trouble to get them, and I wanted to enjoy my sex life and not be worried to death about the consequences of it.
He knocked and I answered the door and let him in. He was all smiles when he saw me and made several nice remarks about the way I looked, which was a good beginning for him. I thanked him and asked him if he would like a drink before going out on the town.
"Very well," he said politely.
I took his hat from him-I had seldom gone out with guys who-wear hats, by the way-and put it on a table and poured him a drink. I had one with him and we sat side by side on the sofa for a time. He was beginning to grow bald on top and this made him seem older than he was. He had a thin face and his eyes were too close together, but then, no one is perfect. He wasn't very tall, either, but I didn't mind as long as he was taller than I. He didn't say much on his own-I had to initiate every bit of the conversation, which I didn't mind; it meant at least that he probably wasn't going to bore me by telling me all about himself.
"Aren't you afraid to live here all by yourself?" he asked hesitantly.
I felt like saying, "Well, I'm not all by myself some of the time," but I didn't. "No," I said. "I don't see why I should be."
He rubbed his rather weak-looking chin. "With all the-er-rape that's going on. That's what I meant." I laughed. "I'm not afraid, Mr. Brown." He rubbed his chin again. "Would you call me Harry?"
"Sure. Harry it is. Shall we go now?" He got to his feet. "Where would you like to go, Doris?"
"Wherever you say, Harry. I'm with you." He grinned. "Gee, thanks. I-er-I think I'd like to have you meet my sister.
Well, that was a new one. "All right, Harry. You mean after we go out, don't you?"
"No. I mean I'd like to take you there now to meet her. She made a point of asking me. You see, she saw you at that party where we met. You made quite an impression on her."
I was beginning to wonder if he had made the date with me for himself or for his sister. What was all this about his sister being impressed? "All right," I told him. "Where is your sister?"
"At her place in the country."
"Oh...." The truth was, I wasn't too keen about spending Saturday night at someone's house in the country. "All right. Let's go."
"Good," He said with the most enthusiasm I had seen yet from him. "Excellent. Shall we go?"
Outside in his car he began to talk a bit more, telling me all about his sister, who, according to him, was a bachelor girl and forty years old. I'm generally suspicious of forty-year-old women who are regarded as bachelor girls. Usually they are out-and-oat dykes.
We drove for about forty minutes before he pulled his car off the road and up a driveway. He brought the car to a stop and because it wasn't yet dark outside I saw an average-looking house, not new and not particularly old.
Harry jumped out, came around to my side and opened the door for me. He escorted me into the house, not bothering to knock. He took me into a medium-sized room and immediately I saw her. She was sitting in a chair, one leg thrown over the arm of it and puffing on a small cigar. She wore hip-huggers, a blouse and her hair was short. I knew she was a dyke.
"Perce," Harry said. "This is the girl we were talking about, Doris Clay. Doris, this is my sister Perce."
The woman jumped to her feet. "Hi, Doris," she said, smiling at me. "I'm sure glad to meet you, kid." She put her cigar out on an ash tray. "Sit down. Have a drink. Harry, you run out and get some ice."
I glanced at Harry sharply. This 'run out and get some ice' bit, I wanted to see how he would react to it. He had almost no reaction, merely smiled and left the room. The woman looked me over carefully.
"You're as pretty as I remember you," she said. "Sit, please "
I sat down and looked back at her. I had her figured out already. She had persuaded Harry to make a date with me and bring me here so she could talk to me, size me up, see if she could make me, probably. Well, this broad was in for a discovery-I wasn't the unknowledgeable little kid she probably thought I was.
I let her have it. "You didn't need to put out your cigar on my benefit, Brown." Calling a dyke by her last name immediately is one way of letting them know you're wise to them.
She had a pointed face and small brown eyes. She directed her gaze straight at me. "Call me 'Perce' please." She said it as if she were a school teacher talking to a child. Perhaps she was a teacher.
"I'll call you 'Miss Brown,' " I said sweetly.
She sat down, frowned and shrugged at the same time. Leaning closer to me-her chair was only three feet from mine-she whispered. "Too bad Harry is here, eh?"
For the hell of it, I pretended innocence. "Why do you say that, Miss Brown? I came with Harry. We have a date."
She grinned. "Yeah, right. Sure you did, kid. I forgot." She kept on running her eyes over me, looking first at my legs and then at my tits and then at my legs again. She actually wet her lips a couple of times. I had the idea she was about to come on like crazy when Harry reappeared carrying a dish of ice.
"Thanks, Harry boy," Perce said. "Just fix Doris a drink. What would you like, dear?" she asked me.
I didn't like her using the term of endearment, but I went along with it. "I don't really care for a drink," I said. "Maybe Harry does. Tell you what, I'll drink whatever Harry does."
Harry smiled. It was evident he liked hearing someone talk this way to his domineering sister. "I'm drinking Scotch on the rocks," he said to me. "Will that be all right?"
I liked Scotch like nothing at all. Scotch is an old man's drink that is drunk by younger men who aren't aware of this. It is also drunk by certain young men who yearn for status but cannot achieve enough of it on their own. Who told me this? A very wise old gentleman, whom I may tell you about later. (It's only fair to say that he also told me there are a few young men who actually prefer Scotch.)
"Sure," I said. "Scotch is okay."
We all drank Scotch. Big deal. And then we sat there and Miss Brown took turns at interrupting her brother, putting him down verbally from time to time, looking my body over, and wetting her too-thin lips. I was beginning to be bored by all of this, and not being a person who is reticent about such tings, I stood up, looked at Harry and smiled at him, nicely.
"I think we'd better get along, Harry. It's getting quite late."
Harry bounded to his feet, nearly dropping his drink. "Oh, sure, Doris. You bet. Good night, Perce."
"Oh," she said crossly. "You just got here, kids."
"Yes, we have to go now, Miss Brown," I said firmly. "Nice to have met you."
"Yeah," she said, and came over and shook hands with me, holding my hand a lot longer than was necessary. "Come back again, kid. You're a pretty girl."
"Thank you. Come along, Harry." I walked to the door and he came running after.
Outside in the car, he turned to me. "My sister. Well, she's very lonely, you see. So I-"
"That's all right, Harry. Let's get back into town."
We had dinner in town, went to a club afterward, and would you believe it?-at twelve-thirty he asked if I minded if he took me home, said he had a bad headache and besides, he had to get up early in the morning. I was bored with him, so it didn't really matter to me. He took me home, kissed me on the cheek at the door and said good night.
"Good night, Harry," I said coolly, and entered my place, closing the door carefully behind me. I put the chain in place. He had been without question one of the worst dates I ever had.
I undressed slowly, climbed into my pajamas and was about to put some cream on my face before retiring when I heard the knock on the door. I hesitated, then hoping against hope (thinking it might be Rap telling me he had not left town) I went to the door.
I nearly dropped dead with astonishment. Harry's sister stood there dressed in a brown suit.
"What is it? What are you doing here?" I asked. "How did you know where I lived?"
She grinned. "Harry called me from the club, asked me to meet him here at this address."
The hell he did, was my first reaction. Then I remembered Harry had gotten up and gone to a phone booth at the club. Well, maybe he had called her. "Harry has gone home. You'll find him there, Miss Brown."
"Oh! ... Well! ... how about that!" she said. "Mind if I come in anyway?"
"Sorry, I was just going to bed."
The lust in her eyes was really something to see. "Oh ... well ... Then I suppose I'd better get along. Er-I wonder if I might use your phone to call Harry. My car broke down."
I couldn't very well refuse her this even though I knew it was a phony deal. I took the chain off and let her in. "Okay," I said, and pointed. "Phone's over there."
She looked about the room carefully. "Pretty apartment, my dear, so feminine. Very good of you to let me use your phone." I just stared at her.
She went to the phone, dialed a number, listened for quite a while and then replaced the phone in the cradle. "Apparently Harry isn't home yet. Mind if I wait a while and try him again?"
I knew she was just stalling, of course. More than likely she had dialed a phony number. I tried to suppress my annoyance, but it wasn't easy. "All right," I told her. "A few minutes. Then I'm going to bed. I'm tired," I added, lying a bit.
"Oh...." She made it sound very sympathetic. "You poor dear child. Did that awful brother of mine tire you out?"
"Not at all, Miss Brown."
"Please ... call me Perce. I'd like that."
"Sure."
She looked at me expectantly.
"Have a drink Perce?" I said for something to say. The way she was eyeing me, brother!
"Thank you. You know, you're a most lovely girl. May I fix you a drink, too?"
"No thanks."
"Please ,. . drink with me. I hate to drink alone."
"All right," I said, still trying to hold my feeling of annoyance under control. She must have thought I was stupid not to see through her little ruses.
She got the bottle and poured out two drinks, handing one to me. "Please sit by me, Doris," she asked. "I love talking to you."
I sat, but not on the sofa with her. She seemed disappointed but laughed a moment later. "I swear,', she said, "I think you don't like me."
"I don't know you," I said, a trifle stiffly.
"I'm really a very nice person," she said, carefully avoiding the word "woman". This was not lost on me.
These gals are always using the word "person" in referring to someone, even themselves.
"Yes, I suppose you are," I said with equal care.
"Do you know something, Doris? I'm on the board of directors of the bank."
"The one I work in?" I was surprised to hear this.
"Yes. I've often seen you working in the bank. You always look so cute behind the cage."
"Thanks," I said drily. "I don't believe I ever noticed you in the bank." It didn't do any harm to let her know I didn't think she looked like much.
She never batted an eye, as they say. "No. I don't suppose you ever have. I'm seldom there."
I swallowed my drink, fastened my gaze on her. "Look, Miss Brown. I'm not the dumb little thing you evidently believe. I know why you're here. I'm not interested."
Her face fell, but she recovered quickly. "My dear, whatever are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about why you came here, Miss Brown. I think you'd better leave now."
She got to her feet slowly. "Don't be rude to me, kid. I can get you fired, you know."
She should never have said that. "Help yourself, Miss Brown, if that's what you want to do."
She immediately put on the contrite act. "Oh ... I'm so sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn't have said that. Will you forgive me, Doris, please?"
I studied her eyes. "Okay, but you'd better leave now."
"But I can't. My car won't run."
"Take a cab."
"You're very mean to me, Doris."
"Miss Brown, I'll tell you again. I know what you're up to. I'm not interested. Now ... will you please call a cab or something? I want to go to bed."
She bit her lips fiercely and I could see she was fighting to control her temper. "May I ... stay with you?" she asked bluntly, apparently throwing caution to the winds.
"No, you may not."
"But I can't get home," she said fiercely. "That's your problem."
She bit her lips again and went to the phone. Once again she dialed a number, listened, spoke a few words that I didn't hear distinctly, and replaced the phone. She came back to where I was now standing. "A cab will be here in thirty minutes. Is it okay if I wait here? You can go to bed if you like. I'll make sure the night lock is on when I leave."
I put my glass down and walked to the bedroom door. "All right, you do that, Miss Brown."
"Good night, Doris," she said softly.
"Good night, Miss Brown."
I walked toward the bed and was astonished to see it spinning. I shook my head and had to grab onto the back of a chair. The chair spun crazily, too, and I fell. Luckily, the bed was nearby and I fell on top of it. I had just time to realize she must have put knockout drops in my drink. My eyes became excessively heavy, the entire room spun and I seemed to be falling into darkness.
In time, the darkness seemed to have fingers and hands. It began clutching at me, tugging at my pajamas, and a moment later I could feel a hot little breeze on my skin. It took on another and different characteristic then.
It became moist, even wet. It began to pant, too. I could hear it doing this. More wetness came from the darkness. More fingers, more hands, more movement.
"Ah...." it said hoarsely. "So lovely, so sexy, so hot-looking. I must kiss it, kiss it."
The darkness became heavy then and I could feel the weight of a part of it as it leaned on my body. I felt it becoming even more moist.
Strange. I never knew a thing like darkness could breathe, and breathe so fast.
This darkness seemed to be covering me now. I could feel its hands roughly pulling me downward on the bed.
The darkness became more intense and I could scarcely see it now at all.
In its place some sort of wild animal came and began to caress my lower body. It was a passionate animal, fierce and determined.
I couldn't fight it off or drive it away. I was too sleepy, too tired, too far down into the pit of blackness. Something very wet and hot began to caress my cunt in earnest. I didn't know whether it felt good or not.
CHAPTER FOUR
What do you do when you awaken the next day and remember that you were drugged and ravished by a queer? You do just what I did, I suppose. You retch a little, you take a shower to get yourself clean, at least, and you try to forget it, the whole bit. You do if you're sensible. You could blow the whistle on the queer, could go to the cops about it, but it would only mean a lot of trouble, a lot of questioning, a lot of this and that, most of it highly unpleasant and disagreeable. You wouldn't be able to accomplish much anyhow because Lesbianism isn't illegal; only male homosexuality is, for some odd reason. Why male homosexuality should be illegal and not female homosexuality has never been made clear by anyone, as far as I know. Funny deal, this.
I had breakfast and got over the fuzzy feeling the drug had left with me. I tried for a time to recall just what had happened, but remembering my resolve to forget the matter, put it out of my mind. One thing-I wished I had that dyke handy-I would have pulled her hair out strand by strand.
It was about noon that the phone rang. I answered it and heard Harry's voice. "I'm terribly sorry I had to take you home so early," he told me. "I-"
I broke in. "Harry, get lost."
"W-what did you say?"
I spoke distinctly. "I said, get lost, Harry."
"What do you mean?" he faltered.
"I mean, GET LOST!"
He sputtered something or other, but I didn't wait to hear it. I hung up, slamming the phone down angrily. "Louse," I muttered. "The damned louse."
Monday after work I went to a supermarket to pick up a few things to eat and when I left the place I was loaded down with two sacks. I didn't see the man coming around the corner of the building and I guess he didn't see me, either. At any rate, we collided and my sacks were knocked out of my arms, the groceries flying all over the walk.
"Hey," I cried. "Why don't you watch where you're going?
"Sorry," the man said quickly, "Let me help you pick them up."
I wasn't looking at the groceries now-I was looking at him. He was about twenty-five, very handsome, blond, and dressed in a dark suit, white shirt and dark tie. He looked to be the typical young executive type. When he bent over to retrieve the grocery items and then glanced up, I saw his eyes were gray and bright-looking. My heart skipped a few beats as he put the items back in the sacks."
He smiled, revealing his white teeth. "There you are, Miss. Sorry I was so clumsy. Accept my apologies, will you:
I gave him my most bewitching smile. "It was really my fault. I should have been watching where I was going. I'm sorry I hollered at you."
"That's all right," he said, looking me over. "Is your car parked nearby? I'll help you carry your stuff to it."
"It's in the parking lot ... over there." I pointed.
"Fine. Now give me the other sack. No use in a pretty girl like you carrying heavy bags."
I beamed on him. "Thank you, you're very nice."
"My name is Bill Beamer. What's yours?"
"Doris Clay."
"You're pretty."
"Thank you," I said sweetly. "Thank you very much, Bill."
He grinned. "My pleasure." He gave me a searching look. "I was just about to go and have a drink. Would you ... join me? There's a bar around the corner."
I smiled. "I'd be happy to."
He closed the car door for me and made sure it was locked. Laughing, he said, "I should have asked you before locking the thing. I hope you have your keys." In my purse. lie took my arm and we walked around the corner to the little bar. We entered and he steered me to a booth near the rear. We sat opposite each other and after the waitress had taken our order he leaned across the booth.
"You're the prettiest girl I've seen all day."
"Thank you. I'm beginning to be glad we bumped into each other."
"Oh ... why?"
"I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess."
He grinned. "You know, I have the same feeling."
The waitress interrupted things then by putting our drinks down in front of us. She left after he paid her. He picked up his glass and so did I. We touched them together without saying a word and drank solemnly, each of us eyeing the other. For no reason at all, we broke out laughing at the same time.
"Well...." He said after a moment and wiping the laugh tears from his eyes, "what do you suppose that was all about?"
I laughed again. "I don't know. Maybe we share a joke and don't know what it is yet."
"Did you say 'yet'?"
"That means we're going to see one another again," he stated flatly.
"Oh ... does it? I ... hope so."
"So do I, Doris. I really do."
I gave him one of my sweet-girl looks-it wasn't hard to accomplish with him. "Why talk about the future when the present is still with us, if that makes any sense? "
"It does," he replied. "It certainly and definitely does. You're right. The future can take care of itself. Here we are. Let's make the most of now." He spoke the word "now" as if it were capitalized.
"Right," I said, and wished I hadn't. I wanted to be very feminine with this man. The word "right" somehow or other ... well, I have often wished I could rid myself of the habit of using it. It's not a feminine word. lie merely smiled. "Tell me something, if you will. Are you ... married?"
I held up my left hand. "I'm not even engaged," I told him, and paused. "And you?"
Again he smiled. "I'm not married. I have been engaged, but not now."
This was a relief, I discovered. Somehow I didn't want this man to be engaged to another girl, and it would have been terrible if he had been married. "Well...." I said, and stopped.
"Well ... what?"
"I forgot what I was about to say."
"Shall we have another drink, Doris?"
"Sure." I finished mine off at the same time he did his.
He ordered two more and we sat there talking about nothing in particular. I found out he worked for the government, but he didn't tell me in what capacity.
Finally we left the place and he walked me to my car and asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, he wrote it down and promised to call me. I thanked him again for picking up my groceries-I had to say something-and he grinned at me as I drove off waving to him.
I sighed when I got home and had put the stuff away in the cupboards. "I wonder if hell ever call me," I muttered. "Or will he just forget?"
The strangest thing happened to me then. An overpowering urge flowed through me and I went into the front room, lay down on the sofa and-I know you won't believe this-had an orgasm just thinking about one Bill Beamer.
It was the following evening about seven o'clock that my phone rang out sharply. I picked up the receiver. "Hello."
"Hello, Doris. It's Bill. May I come over?"
My heart nearly jumped outside of me. "Oh, yes, Bill. Please do."
"Okay, be right over." He hung up.
I could have kicked myself-I hadn't told him where I lived. I swore a little, but just then the phone rang again and I nearly fell over myself answering it.
"Good-bye, Bill." I hung up, my heart beating furiously. Funny. I had forgotten all about Rap Gordon for the moment. I ran to the bedroom, took off my clothes, made with the quick shower, and go into my sexiest-looking dress.
And then I waited....
He took quite a while in arriving, but when I heard the knock on the door I had to fight to keep from running to it. I didn't know what had happened to me, I simply knew I was terribly excited at seeing this man again.
Pulling myself together with an effort, I opened the door a crack-the chain was on, for a wond-er-and peered out at him. I smiled, said, "Hello" and opened the door all the way.
He surprised me by sweeping into the room, putting his arms about me and kissing me, just like that. "Boy," he said. "You're even prettier than I remember you." He kissed me again.
I guess I was blushing a little, my checks felt warm. I felt a bit foolish about this, it's not like me to blush much. "You say the nicest things," I murmured. "Are you an expert on sweeping girls off their feet?"
He closed the door, stood with his back to it, and looked me up and down but not in an obnoxious manner. "I'm no expert on much of anything, but I know a pretty girl when I see one."
I just laughed. This man made me feel like twenty million dollars, or even more than that-he made me feel like a woman. lie looked at me again, cleared his throat, studied my eyes. "May I say something very frank to you, Doris?"
I caught my breath a little. "Sure, why not?" lie shifted his eyes away from me momentarily as though he were somewhat embarrassed about the question. "I-er-I'm not sure now that I want to ask it," he said.
"Go ahead. Don't keep me in suspense."
He seemed to brace himself. "I'd like very much to make love to you. I-"
"Is that the question?"
"Well ... no, not exactly."
"Were you about to ask me point-blank if I would go to bed with you, Bill?"
He took a deep breath. "Yes, but I'm afraid that's too-er-sophisticated a request. After all, we just met."
I walked away from him, spun around on one foot, holding my dress with either hand as a little girl might do. "Oh ... I wouldn't say it was too sophisticated. I would say it was rushing things just a little."
His cheeks were slightly red, even as mine had been. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just that you have such an effect on me. I haven't been able to think of anything else since I first saw you."
What a nice thing to hear. I ran over to him, stood on my tiptoes because he was six feet tall and I was five-four, and kissed his mouth quickly, drawing away before he could grab me. There's no harm in teasing a man a little.
"Hey," he said, "that was nice. Best kiss I ever had ... given to me, I mean."
"Would you care for another?" I asked still teasing him.
He grinned and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, though it wasn't long by any means. He combed it on the side as Rap did. "Yes," he said. "I'd like that."
"Close your eyes." He did so.
I went to him and kissed his mouth quickly again. This time he threw his arms about me and held me in such a tight embrace I could scarcely breathe. His mouth pressed down hungrily on mine and I swear if he had kept it up I would have begged him to take me to the bedroom. He didn't, however. He let up on it and held me at arms' length.
"I'd better watch it," he said, disappointing me. "If I don't, I'm liable to carry you to your bedroom pronto."
I slipped away from him. "Would you like a drink, Bill?"
"Oh ... I almost forgot. I have a pint in my coat." He pulled a bottle from his jacked pocket and opened it. "I swear," he said. "I can't remember anything when I'm with you."
"Come on now," I teased. "Don't turn me on too much too soon."
His face fell. "I'm not. I really mean that. You're-you're so pretty I'm ... Well, I'm ... something. I guess I can't think straight."
I laughed. "You know something? You're a nice guy. I think I like you."
"I like you, too, Doris. That's what I'm trying to get across to you."
"You have."
"Shall we take a bite of the bottle?"
"All right. There's some glasses on the cabinet ... over there." I pointed at the small liquor cabinet.
He got them and half-filled them. "Do you have any chaser?"
I picked up one of the glasses. "Drink it straight, Bill. I do."
"Okay. I didn't think women liked whiskey straight."
"Sometimes I do."
"You know, when I met you I was feeling kind of down.
A good friend of mine was in trouble. Guess I felt bad about him. Then you came along and made me feel good."
I knew a brief moment of jealousy. "This friend," I said slowly. "Was it a girl?"
He shook his head. "No, a guy. Man named Rap Gordon. He was arrested a few days ago in Baltimore ... for rape."
I walked to the sofa, sat down carefully, looked at him as steadily as I could manage. "Oh...." I said, and shut up.
"What's the matter?" he asked, coming closer to me. "Why are you so white?"
I finished my drink as fast as I could. It left me almost gasping-it had been a long one, a lot of juice in that glass.
"Hey," he said. "What's with you? Did I say something wrong:
I shook my head. "No."
"Then what is it, Doris?"
"I felt faint for a moment. I'm okay now."
He looked at me curiously. "Are you sure?"
I breathed deeply, nodded, looked at him steadily. "This friend of yours. Did you say he raped someone?"
He bit his lips. "Yeah, the damned fool. Grabbed a young kid and raped her. The cops got him."
"How ... did you know about it if he's in Baltimore?"
"He got someone to send me a wire. Needed money."
"Oh...."
"What is it with you?" he asked, bending over me. "Can I get you an aspirin or something?"
I shook my head. "I'm all right. What I need is another drink, Bill."
He laughed nervously. "Well, that can be taken care of easily enough." He got the bottle and poured me three fingers and I downed it. "Hey, you're drinking that stuff pretty fast."
I made a face and tried on a laugh for size. It came off fairly well. "I'm a funny person, I guess," I said lamely.
"I don't think so. Think you're great." He kissed me lightly.
Now I really laughed. This man had a way of making a girl feel good and I liked him for it.
"That's-better," he said. "You have a nice laugh."
I looked at the front of him so close to me. I knew it then. Ike was rigid. Apparently, he saw he glancing at him, for his cheeks burned slightly, but he kept on staring into my eyes.
"Don't be embarrassed," I heard myself say, much to my astonishment. "It's okay."
"I-what's okay?" he stammered.
Well now, how could I answer that without being too direct? "You're a man," I said softly.
"Oh ... Yeah ... Well,!-"
"Maybe you'd better have another drink, Hill."
"Y-yeah. Guess you're right. I'll do that." He poured a little more juice into his glass and swallowed it a moment later, lie smacked his lips somewhat nervously. "I'm-er-sorry about that."
"About what?"
"Well ... you know."
"I said it was okay. You're a man."
He took a deep breath and sat down beside me. "You're the darnedest girl I ever saw."
"Oh ... what's that supposed to mean?"
"I mean you're wonderful."
"Because I said it was okay for you to be ... hard?"
He gulped. "Boy, you lay it right on the line, don't you? I like that quality."
"Well ... it m okay. I'm just being honest."
He sighed. "I've half a notion to grab you and make love to you here and now."
"Please don't grab me," I said, remembering how he had said Rap had grabbed a kid.
"I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"I know you didn't."
He sighed again. "You do something very wild to me." I smiled. "And you ... you do to me, too."
"I do? Honestly?" Yes.
"I'll be damned."
"Oh...." I looked at him curiously.
"I mean-" he broke off, started again. "I mean you really send me."
I looked at his glass. "Why don't you finish your drink?"
He did so, and put the glass down as I wanted him to. "I'm all up in the air," he confessed.
"You mean because of the way you are ... down there?"
"Yes. I ought to be ashamed of myself, getting this way in front of you so quickly."
I blinked. "Is it supposed to happen slowly?"
He searched my eyes momentarily. "Hey! I think you like the idea of it, Ooris. Do you?"
I sighed. "I might. I just might."
His eyes became slits, but not unpleasant-looking slits. "Whew! Don't say things like that unless you mean them."
I smiled. "Maybe I do mean them."
He gulped. "I'm acting like a schoolboy," he said tensely. "But you affect the hell out of me, if that makes any sense."
"It does. It makes a lot of sense."
He slipped his arm about my waist and drew me close to him. "Does this make sense, too?" He cupped his hand hotly over my breast.
I placed my head on his shoulder. "Yes, Bill. It makes a lot of sense."
The next thing I knew he had carried me to the bedroom. I lay on the bed fully clothed, my eyes closed, my heart pumping furiously. I opened my eyes a few moments later to see him crawling above me. He was naked and as he lowered his body to mine, I thought briefly about Rap Gordon. Tears came into my eyes, but I shut them off quickly. Never mind about him, my mind told me-you have a much better man in bed with you.
Bill thrust his penis at me and I felt it enter roughly. He worked me slowly, roughly, and for a very long time. When it was finished he lay quietly on top of me and I could feel the erratic pulsation of him against my inner flesh.
Finally, he spoke. "Tell me, Doris, how does it feel to have a hard cock inside of you?"
I was astonished. "W-what?"
"How does it feel to have a hard cock in you?"
I giggled. "Feels wonderful, but it depends on who owns it.
"Do you like the feel of mine?"
I giggled again. "Of course, silly."
"Then I think I'll let you feel it again."
I stopped giggling and sighed. "Please do. I'd love it."
"But right now it's soft. Would you-er-suck it to make it hard again."
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and nodded. This made him immediately erect-so I didn't have to.
CHAPTER FIVE
My vacation began the following Monday and I was glad of it. It's a tiresome thing, working in a bank day after day, doing the same chores over and over, seeing practically the same people and mostly women at that.
I hadn't seen Hill Beamer since the night he made love to me. His work took him all over the state, he had told me, and sometimes he didn't get back to the city for a month or longer. I hadn't relished hearing this bit of information, but I accepted it philosophically; what else can you do in a case like this?
The thing I had to consider now was what should I do during my time off from work. Should I stay at home and take it cool or should I go somewhere, perhaps to a resort. I had gone to a resort the summer before, had met several nice guys, and had had a great time, but I didn't know if I wanted to do a repeat on this or not. Maybe I could have more fun by remaining in the city. Certainly it would be less expensive. Of course there was always the possibility that some man might ask me to go to the country with him for a few days. The trouble was, at the moment I had no such invitations.
I left the apartment about two o'clock in the afternoon and went to the parking lot and climbed into my Volkswagen. I drove downtown for the purpose of shopping. I wasn't going to buy much-I was a trifle short of money-but I could at least window shop. I parked the car and walked up the main street with no definite place in mind to visit. I had gone about two blocks when I heard someone call out to me. I stopped and turned around and searched the sea of faces-there were a lot of people on the street. I could see no one I knew until I felt a hand on my arm. I whirled about.
"Hello, kid," she said, grinning at me. I jerked my arm free. "Don't talk to me, Miss Brown," I snapped.
Her grin became broader. "Come on now, what's the matter, Doris? You aren't really mad at me, are you?"
"I just don't like you," I said, annoyed. "Please get away from me."
She pretended innocence. "Why, whatever is wrong? What have I done?" Her small eyes were like beads.
"You know good and well what you did, Miss Brown. Now get lost."
She dropped the innocent pose immediately. "Be fair, kid. When you see someone you want you go after him, don't you? So what's wrong about my doing the same thing?"
I glared at her. "Your methods, Brown, that's what's wrong."
She sucked in her breath. "Oh ... then that's all you object to. Well, I can change my methods. Why not join me for a cocktail? We can have lunch together and then-"
"No thanks. Good-bye, Brown."
I started to walk away from her, but she caught hold of my arm. "Please ... don't do this to me, kid. I happen to like you. I like you a lot. Let me make up to you for what I did. Please?"
"No thanks. Get lost."
Her face became mottled. "All right, kid. You want to play hard to get, then you do that. I have one thing to ask you, however."
"All right, ask it."
A sly look came into her eyes. "Did a blond young man run into you recently and knock a bag of groceries out of your arms?"
I was astonished. "Y-yes. How did you know that?"
"Because I was there, parked across the street. You see, he sort of works for me. I told him to get next to you."
"I don't believe that."
"His name," she said, "is Hill Beamer. I instructed him to take you home some way or other. I told him to he nice to you and to tell you he was a government man. Did he do these things, my dear?"
My face was crimson with anger. "What arc you, some kind of fiend?"
She grinned. Her teeth weren't pleasant to look at. "I know what I want, kid, and what I want I get, sooner or later."
"This Bill Beamer. Is he a ... gigolo or something?"
"Correct, but he's a phony. He didn't do what I told him to. I fired him. He's a louse."
I moved away from her. "So are you," I said hotly. "I ought to have you arrested."
She grinned again and again she caught hold of my arm. "On what charges, my dear?"
She had me there. I didn't know the answer to that one. I thought fast and came up with something, however. "On being a public nuisance."
She laughed. "I have a great deal of influence in this town, my dear. You wouldn't get anywhere with such a ridiculous charge."
"Will you please leave me alone and take your hand off my arm?"
"Sure, but won't you join me in a cocktail? I have information about another friend of yours, chap named Rap Gordon."
I caught my breath. "What about him?"
"I won't tell you unless you come with me."
I eyed her angrily. What kind of a person was she? How could she know so much about me and the people I knew? I wanted very much to discover what I could about Rap, so I reluctantly nodded and said, "All right. I'll go with you, but no funny business or I'll...."
"You have my promise not to...." She didn't finish it, but gave me one of her sly looks.
We didn't go to a cocktail lounge but to her car which was parked nearby at the curb. I was beginning to think she followed me wherever I went. It wasn't a comfortable feeling, knowing a queer was after me to the extent that she was.
I was also terribly curious about this Bill Beamer, so I asked about him. "What was he supposed to do, give me a dose of knockout drops and leave the door open for you?"
Her face looked strange but only for an instant. "Really now, my dear. That would be a terrible thing to do." She was lying. I knew it and she knew I knew it.
"Nuts," I said. "You're a liar."
She shrugged and drove the car away from the curb. She didn't speak for a few moments until she had the car in the stream of traffic. Finally, "Like I said, my dear, we all have certain things we want. You do. I do. Why fight it?"
"I think I've made a mistake. Stop the car and let me out."
"Oh, but you want to hear about your Mr. Gordon, don't you, what happens to him now?"
Again she had me. I did want to hear what she knew about Rap. "How is it that you know about him?" I asked.
"I make it my business to know certain things, my dear."
"I wish you'd stop calling me that. It repulses me."
Her face clouded. "All right, I'm sorry. I don't want you to be repulsed." She turned the corner, drove on for a block and then turned into a drive and cut the motor. "This is where I live when I'm in town."
"I'm not going inside with you," I said firmly.
"You'll be okay. My brother's inside, too."
"A lot of help he'd be," I said angrily.
"Harry is all right. He's just timid."
"Makes it nice for you, having a timid guy for a brother."
"How so?"
"Gives you someone to rule over."
"I'm not like that, not really, my dear."
"Don't call inc that."
"Sorry. Forgot. Come. Let's go in and have a talk about your Rap Cordon."
I considered it and reluctantly decided to go in with her. If she started anything I could always get up and leave. She led the way and I followed her into the house. It was a surprising thing, the interior of that house. It was breathtakingly beautiful and the furnishings were very expensive if somewhat odd looking. She had, for example, a sofa that was at least twice as long as the ordinary type. It was a V-shaped affair, one sofa, not two ordinary ones placed at angles to one another. There were many lamps of strange but lovely design. What took my eyes, however, was the large number of nude paintings that hung about the room. All of them were women and some were extremely seductive-looking, I suppose. By the way she glanced at them, each in turn, I could tell that she thought they were seductive-looking.
She rubbed her hands together and laughed coarsely. "I see you're looking over my art work. They're rather nice, aren't they?"
"Did you paint them?"
"Yes. One of my hobbies, painting."
I felt like saying, "What are your other hobbies?" but I didn't. "What about Rap Gordon?" I asked abruptly.
She waved at a chair and sat down across from it. "He's in bad trouble. In jail. Can't raise the bail. It's very high. Fifteen thousand dollars. He doesn't have that kind of dough. I-er-I can get him out of jail ... if you ... ask me to, Doris."
"I see. And what's it going to cost me for this service?"
She grinned. "Why, nothing, kid. Nothing at all. I just like having you around."
"It's not up to me to get him out of jail. He's a man. He can handle it himself."
"Not this time, kid. You see, the last time he was in Baltimore he was picked up on the same charge. That time, the cops let him go. Couldn't prove their case against him. This time they've got him dead to rights. There's been a lot of rape going on in Baltimore. People are up in arms about it. So...." She spread her hands.
"If you think you can bribe me into letting you have your ... way with me, you're mistaken. I don't go for it. Rap Gordon will have to stay in jail."
She shook her head. "No. I'm going to put up the bail for him. You can do what you like about it, of course, but I'll put up the bail and help him get out of the country."
"Why?"
She bit her lips hard. "Because I have an ... investment in him. You see, I've known him for quite a while."
"You'll never get away with it."
"Sure I will. I'll send him in a private plane, say, to Canada, have him change his name, get him a phony visa. Oh, it can be done if you know how."
Despite the fact that she was doing this, or going to do it, I felt good about it. Pretty good. I didn't want Rap to go to prison, even if he deserved it. I got to my feet.
"Where you going?" she demanded.
"I'm going home. Don't get up. I'll walk."
She jumped to her feet. "You don't have to be so damned rude. I'm trying to be nice to you, kid."
"Yes, I know you are. For a purpose. Sorry, I'm not interested. If that's all you have to say about Rap Gordon I might as well leave."
Her face changed expression. "Please ... don't be like this. I'm not a bad person once you get to know me."
"Already I know you better than I want to. Good-bye, Miss Brown." I went to the door and turned the knob. The door was locked. I turned and faced her. "Unlock the door, please."
She laughed. "Just a minute, kid. I want to show you a painting I finished couple of days ago."
"Unlock the door," I repeated, but she paid no attention to my request.
I saw her walk across the room and pull open what appeared to he cabinet doors on the wall. A moment later I saw that a painting hung there and the doors wen; used to cover it. I gasped when I saw the painting. It was Itap Gordon wearing only a sweatshirt, lie was lying on his side on a couch and there was a nude blonde girl on her knees beside him. The girl was blowing him. It was plain to see that the blonde girl was none other than myself.
"How did you do it?" I asked. "I've never posed."
"I paint from my imagination and memory. I don't need models."
I walked closer to the painting and inspected it. The likeness to Rap and me was startling. The woman was an artist, no mistake about it. "Interesting," I said. "What are you going to do with it, blackmail me?"
She laughed and closed the doors. "Exactly, my dear. You be nice to me and no one will ever see it."
"Go to hell."
"The executives of the bank wouldn't care to see this, you know. They would be very angry to learn they had such a girl working for them."
"Go to hell."
"Suit yourself. You're forcing me to do what I don't want to do."
"Will you please unlock the door? I'm getting out of here."
"I think you'd better reconsider, young woman," she said harshly. "You want to lose your job? Do you want me to fix it so you'll never get another one?"
I brushed my hair out of my eyes and stared at this awful dame. "You know something? You're a horrible person."
She laughed unpleasantly. "Okay. I'm horrible, but I have certain powers. It won't pay you to make an enemy of me, kid."
"Go to hell," I said again. I was angry clear through. She went to the door and taking a key from her pocket, unlocked it. "Go," she said. "You're a fool, kid."
I swept out the door and out of the house, my heart hammering furiously inside me. It took me over ten minutes to walk all the way back to my car. When I arrived there I nearly fell over. Bill Beamer sat behind the wheel.
"Hi," he said, smiling. "Are you surprised to see me?"
I stared at him. "Get out of my car, damn you!"
He seemed surprised. "What's wrong, Doris? I just happened to see you drive up. You left your car unlocked, so I climbed in and waited. You see, I didn't have to leave town as I thought I would."
"You phony. You're no government man. You're a louse."
His handsome face fell. "What?"
"Get out of my car, damn you. Go and talk to your employer, Miss Perce Brown."
He climbed out, gave me an odd look and walked away.
When I got back to my apartment I had to have two fast drinks, I was shaking so hard. I felt dirty, unclean inside, and the only way to get rid of it was to....
But there was no man handy.
I removed my clothing and took a shower. It didn't help. I still felt soiled somehow. This was a strange feeling for me to have. Usually, I have little compunction about anything sexual, but this deal ... Well, it upset me.
I pulled on a shortie nightgown, though it was only four in the afternoon. I lay down on the sofa and tried to read a magazine. It was no good. I couldn't get my mind on it. I gave the mag a toss and stretched my arms high about my head, wishing Rap Gordon were here at the moment. What I wouldn't do to him if he were. It didn't matter much to me about the rape charge, I discovered. There was something phony about it, I felt. It came to me then that the only people to talk about it were those two oddballs, Perce and Bill. It could be they had made the whole bit up. How could I find out for certain if the charge was true, if Rap had actually raped a kid?
I went lo the phone and called a club where he had worked. I talked to the man with the raspy voice and asked him how I could get in touch with Kap. Me told me a number to call in Baltimore, I hung up and dialed the number. There was no answer. I hung up, resolving to call back later.
I had no more than left the phone when it rang out sharply. I looked at it for a long moment, started to lift the receiver, figured it might be Perce Brown. I frowned and let it ring. Finally it stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't going to talk to her and somehow I knew the call had been from her.
"Damn her," I muttered. "She's giving me a bad time."
A few minutes later the phone again rang and this time I strode to it and yanked it off the hook. "Hello," I said.
"Doris, please don't hang up. This is Harry."
"What do you want?" I asked, annoyed.
"I'd like to call on you."
"Sorry, Harry. I don't like you. Incidentally, tell your sister I know she told you to call. Good-bye."
"Wait a minute. She didn't tell me to call. I was at her place when you were there and I heard what she said to you. I can help you, Doris. If you'll let me come over."
"How can you help me?"
"I know ... something that might be of service to you."
"Concerning what?"
"I can't tell you over the phone. May I come and see you:
I considered it. "All right. Come over. You can't stay long, though. I'm going out." I was lying a little, of course.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes." He hung up.
So did I. I had another drink and lay on the sofa and tried to figure out what it could be that he was going to tell me. I gave up on this. Nothing presented itself from my imagination. It took him only twenty minutes to arrive, and when he knocked I let him in, after making sure he was alone.
I closed the door. "All right, Harry. Tell me what you have to."
"May I sit down? I'd like a drink, too."
I gestured at the sofa. "Help yourself."
He took a drink from the bottle, which surprised me a little-he just wasn't the type to drink from a bottle. He choked a bit and removing a handkerchief from his pocket, coughed into it. "Sorry," he muttered. "The whiskey, it went down wrong."
"What do you have to tell me?"
"My sister," he said, and coughed again.
"Yes?"
"She wants you to marry her."
"What?"
"I know, I know," he said. It's crazy. But she's determined to have you, Doris, and you don't know my sister."
"She wants to marry me? What's with her? She must be out of her mind."
"No. Not out of her mind. She has a very good mind."
"Then why doesn't she use it? A woman can't marry another woman."
"My sister could."
"What do you mean?" I sat down across from him and stared at him incredulously.
"Perce is a woman, sort of," he said, still coughing a little. "But she also has the organs of a man. Somewhat. So ... she could pass herself off as a man, you see. Legally, mean.
"Harry," I said unevenly. "Will you please pass me that bottle? I really need a drink now."
"Listen," he said excitedly. "Never mind the drink. There's only one thing for you to do."
"And what's that."
A wild look came into his eyes. "Kill her! I'll help you. If you don't she'll make life as miserable for you as she has for me."
I got to my feet slowly. "Harry," I said evenly. "Get out of here ... and don't ever come hack."
He gave me a look of hatred and stormed out of the apartment.
CHAPTER SIX
For the next three days I tried to get an answer from the phone number in Baltimore but to no avail. It appeared that Rap might be in jail after all because I tried at every hour of the day and night to reach him. I gave up on it, preferring to wait a few more days and see if he arrived back in town as he had said he would. I could have called the police station and found out if they were holding him, but something prevented me. I suppose I was fearful the story was true and didn't want to find out for certain.
I was getting bored with my vacation; nothing was happening. All the men I had known previously seemed to be out of town; at least, no guy called, and I was beginning to think I had a hex on me. I decided to load a couple of bags in the Volkswagen and take a trip somewhere. I checked my bank balance, decided I could spend a little money without going broke, packed the bags, made sure the place was locked and took off in the car.
I headed out Highway 21 and drove for two hours. I was getting hungry, so I stopped at a roadside diner and entered the place. It was a fair-looking place but nothing great about it. I had to sit on a stool, of course, and when the tough-looking broad waited on me she looked me over carefully.
I ordered something to eat and she took her time bringing it. Evidently, she was the cook as well as the waitress, for she went behind a partition and didn't reappear until the food was prepared. I finished eating in somewhat of a hurry, paid her and was about to go outside when I saw a car drive up in front. I swore to myself. The car belonged to Perce Brown.
I tilted my chin and walked out of doors, never once glancing at the car. I went to the Volkswagen, climbed in and started the motor. Looking into the rear-view mirror, I could see her gelling out of her car. She yelled at me, but I paid no attention and bore down on the accelerator, the little car shooting out of the lot to the highway. I speeded up more and watched the rear-view mirror to see if she was still following me, as I was certain she had been doing.
There was a car behind me, but it was too far back for me to be certain it was hers. I drove along for two miles and when I saw a fork in the road, swung the car to the left. This was a dirt road and because I didn't want to betray where I was by raising dust, I slowed the car down. I kept on at this slow pace for more than a mile and finally came to a halt. I studied the rear-view mirror, fully expecting to see the other car appear momentarily. There was no sign of it. I shut off the motor for a moment, listening. I could hear nothing, so I started the motor again. I drove on for half a mile, looking for a place wide enough to turn the car around on. The road was very narrow and I knew I couldn't turn even this small car around without being in danger of going into the rather deep ditches on both sides.
There was nothing to do, I decided, but to keep on and hope for a driveway. I drove for perhaps four miles before finally seeing what looked to be a driveway. I slowed the car immediately and swung it off the road and into the drive. Bringing the car to a halt, I then started to back it out onto the road when I saw the two men blocking my way. They were two of the most disreputable-looking men I'd ever seen. I rolled up the windows quickly but not quickly enough. I had intended locking the doors, but one of the men was too fast for me. He yanked open the car door on the driver's side and leered at me.
"Hey, Zeke," he chortled. "Look at the deal the wind blew in. Ain't she somethin'."
I glanced at them sharply. Both men had a week's growth of beard, both wore overalls, and both were unspeakably filthy in appearance.
The second man came close to me, looked at me, the spittle drooling from his mouth. I could smell alcohol on their breaths. "Yeah, ain't we lucky, Bert. A pretty piece. Wonder if she'd screw both of us, you suppose?"
The man addressed as Bert laughed coarsely. "Guess we can sure find out, Zeke." He put out his hand to touch my arm, but I drew back. I was scared. "Hey now, sister," he said to me, "don't you go pullin' away from ol' Bert like that. Ol' Bert, he like pretty girls. Ol' Bert, he's a screwer from way back." He glanced at the other man, grinning evilly. "Ain't I a screwer from way back, Zeke?"
The man called Zeke laughed, too. "You sure are, Bert, you sure are. Guess you've screwed 'bout everything they is to screw 'round here." He leered at me. "You like sere win :
"Let go of my arm," I said desperately.
Bert laughed even louder now. "Can't do that, pretty girl. Can't let you get 'way from us. We just found you. Ol' Zeke and me, well, we ain't had no piece since day 'fore yesterday. We hard up, girl. We glad you come along. You sure look like the screwin' type to me. How 'bout it? You the screwin' type, girl?" Before I could do anything, he had reached in and grabbed the key out of the ignition, killing the car's motor. "There now. Just so you won't go gettin' cute and drivin' off on us, girl."
"Leave me alone," I said, my heart pounding crazily.
They both laughed and shook their heads as if they had rehearsed it. "We ain't goin' let you go nowhere, girl. Not till we both get our screwin' done. We hard up for a piece like you, girl. We sure glad you come along. You got pretty tits. Lemme feel." He grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed so hard I cried out and struck at him, but the other man grabbed my hands and held them.
A moment later they dragged me out of the car roughly and carried me into a dirty shack nearby. They slammed me down on a cot and the one man held me there.
The other man, I saw with horror, was removing himself.
Bert had unbuttoned his overalls and I saw his rigidity. I turned my eyes away from him only to find the other man had done the same thing. I think I prayed a little, I'm not sure. Rough hands belted me when I tried to jump up from the cot. The stinging blows to my face nearly knocked me cold. I was somewhat groggy and knew I was a goner. These dirty men were going to rape me and perhaps kill me, too. I fought to keep control over myself, not to let myself do anything that would arouse their anger. If they became angry at me they could kill me easily. It was better to be raped and freed afterward than to be killed.
"Please," I begged, in one final, desperate effort to escape the thing. "Please don't!"
They both laughed tensely. "Now you just be a good girl, let me screw you, then you be good and let ol' Zeke screw you, then we let you go. You don't be good we gonna hurt you, girl. You got that?"
I nodded, my teeth chattering, my heart pumping so hard I thought it would jump out of me.
Bert grabbed at my blouse and ripped it off. I wasn't wearing a bra and when they saw my breasts come tumbling out in full view, they sucked in their breath, their eyes narrowing cruelly. This, too, was as though they had rehearsed it. Bert pulled on my shorts, yanking them down my legs. He took them all the way to my ankles and began running his hands over my thighs while the other man held me down.
"Ain't them legs somethin'," he muttered thickly. "I swear, this here's eatin' stuff. What you think, Zeke?"
Zeke was sweating hard. "It sure is eatin' stuff. She's got the best looking legs I ever saw. You go 'head, Bert. Stick it in her, get it over with. Me, I can't hardly wait to get in there myself."
Bert yanked my panties down my legs roughly. He sucked in air as he looked at me, ran his hand over me there. "Man oh man," he muttered. "Prettiest cunt I ever did see."
I closed my eyes.
"Yessir, that's the prettiest cunt I ever did see," he repeated thickly, and I felt his hot, rough hand exploring it.
I gagged and flinched at the same time.
"Hey, lookit her," the man called Zeke said. "She ain't puttin' up no fight or nothin'. I bet she wants us to screw her. What you think, Bert? You figure she's a hot lil' piece that wants it bad as we do?"
"Sure she do. You can tell that by just lookin' at her. She's a hot one, all right. She wants us to stick it into her cunt. Why, she's 'fraid we might change our minds and go 'way or somethin'. Just look at the looks of her face. Man, she's ready to get screwed, this one is. I can tell. Can't you tell, Zeke?"
"I sure can. Say, Bert. Maybe I oughta take her first. How 'bout it?"
"Tell you what, Zeke. If I had me a coin I'd match you to see who gets her first. I ain't got no coin. You gotta coin, Zeke."
Zeke laughed. "You know I ain't got no coin. What you go bringin' that up for. I ain't had no coin in a week now."
"She sure is a pretty one. Guess I'll just get on."
"Hold it a minute. Maybe I should take her first. I'm older'n you, Zeke."
"That don't make no difference. Don't make no difference 'tall. You move out of the way, I'm gonna stick my pole in her. Man, I tell you I'm hotter'n a firecracker."
My eyes still closed, I heard them arguing over who should rape me first. I opened my eyes a crack and saw them jump away from me. For a moment, I thought they were having a fight or were about to have one.
Then I saw the reason for their move.
Perce Brown stood in the doorway with a gun pointed straight at them. "You two men," she barked. "Get away from that girl or I'll put a bullet in your heads."
Bert and Zeke just stared at her open-mouthed. Neither of them even bothered to cover their parts. It was a wild scene, this. I hounded up to my feet, grabbed at my panties and slacks, pulled them up, got my blouse and put it on as best I could. I didn't say a word to Perce but ran out to the car. I started the motor and then saw that her car was blocking my way. I waited for her to come out of the shack, which she did after a moment. I saw her run to my car.
"When I pull out," she yelled, "you follow me, kid!"
I did as she told me to and soon I was following her up the road. I glanced back and saw the two men standing motionless in front of the shack.
I began to tremble and kept on trembling all the way back to the main highway.
We were at Perce's country house. She had given me a stiff drink and I was presently lying on the sofa in her front room. Neither of us had talked about the scene in the shack as yet.
Finally, standing over me, she said, "Hurry. Drink up. You need several drinks, kid. You've had a bad time."
I sat up, drained the glass, handed it to her. "Thanks," I said.
"That's okay. Have you stopped shaking?"
I held out my hand. "No. I don't think I ever will."
"Pretty awful time you had, kid."
I looked at her. She didn't seem menacing at all right at the moment. "Yes. Thank you for rescuing me."
She shrugged. "Lucky for you I always carry a gun in the car. I was-er-following you. I wanted to know where you were going."
"I'm glad you did," I said, and really meant it.
"Well, I guess I shouldn't be following you all over the place, but I can't seem to help it, kid. Turned out all right, though."
I lay back down. "Yes. It turned out fine. Thanks again."
She didn't speak but got me another drink which I downed quickly. The trembling began to let up. "Who were those awful men?" I asked.
"Probably a couple of sugar beet workers. Lot of them around this time of year. Itinerant workers, probably. Rough-looking pair. They meant business, the scum."
I recalled how they had looked with their pants unbuttoned, shuddered a bit. "Yes, they did. I was never so scared in my life."
She shrugged. "Not for me to tell you what to do, but young gals shouldn't drive on lonely roads the way you did. Dangerous."
I flushed. "I was trying to get away from you."
She flushed, too. "Yeah, so I figured. Good thing you didn't lose me."
I bit my lips. I knew she might be expecting some sort of reward for her rescue bit. I was so grateful to her that I was almost willing to let her. Anything was preferable to what she had saved me from.
"I-er-I want to thank you," I muttered.
"Save it, kid. You already have."
"Just the same...."
"Knock it off. Anything I can't stand is for someone to feel grateful to me."
I glanced down at my badly torn blouse, noting my breasts were exposed. There was no way I could cover them except with my arms, which I did. She laughed.
"What is it?" I asked, not understanding the reason for her laugh.
"Why be self-conscious, kid, after what you've been through?"
"I guess you're right," I admitted weakly.
"Take off that torn blouse. Maybe you ought to take a shower, kid. Make you feel clean again, you know."
I removed my torn blouse, what there was left of it. I sat up and she looked at my breasts but not too lustfully. "I feel funny," I muttered.
"Sure. Why wouldn't you? Hell of a thing."
I shook my head. "I'll never be able to forget those two men.
"Okay, then remember them. Maybe you've learned something, never go certain places alone. A young, pretty gal like you is a sitting duck when she does."
I nodded and had a sudden thought. Harry had told me she had the organs of both a woman and a man. "Miss Brown," I said. "If I take a shower, will you take one with me:
Her face became set. "Hell no. What a crazy goddamn thing to say. What's the matter with you, you gone nuts or something?"
I studied her eyes. "All right. I'm sorry. I guess I don't know what I'm saying." I had to get out of it some way-I didn't want her to know now that I had been curious about her body.
"You better have another drink, kid." She gave it to me. Her eyes were filled with an odd mixture of anger and lust. "Stop looking at me that way," she added. "No knockout drops in this whiskey."
"I didn't say there was."
"Your eyes said so. Damn."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Not a damned thing."
"You're angry at me. Why?"
"Oh, shut up."
I was astonished. I put the glass down. "Thank you again, but I guess I'd better go home."
"Suit yourself, kid."
CHAPTER SEVEN
I was surprised when Bill Beamer came to my door later on in the day. I thought I had gotten rid of him for good, but apparently he wasn't content to let me get away with telling him off.
"May I come in?" he asked quietly. "I need to talk to you.
I looked him over carefully. He certainly didn't appear to be the gigolo type. He looked more like the young executive than ever. I wondered if perhaps I hadn't been too hasty with him; if perhaps it was a lie that Perce had hired him to kid me along, or whatever it was she had said she did.
"Come in," I said, taking in his nice blond hair, the way it was combed straight across his forehead.
"Thank you." He stepped in and closed the door. "I've been thinking about you for quite a while now. Apparently, you have a beef about me. I-"
"I don't like being used," I told him.
"How did I use you?"
"You work for Miss Brown, don't you? You lied to me, telling me you were a government man."
"Yes, I admit I worked for her. I had to tell you I was a government man. However...." He stopped.
"However what?"
He shrugged. "I guess I'd better not say."
"All right. You can leave now, Mr. Beamer."
"Please ... let me stay."
"What kind of man are you? Tell me."
"Just a man who happens to think you're pretty nice."
"Nuts," I said.
"It's true. I do. Please believe me, Doris."
I walked away from him, "Did Perce Brown send you?"
"No, of course not."
"What do you want of me?"
"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about your rough experience today.
"Then she did send you?"
"No. I talked with her. She mentioned what had happened. She didn't send me to see you."
Suddenly I didn't believe anything he had said. A way to perhaps trap him presented itself to me. "Tell me," I said. "Since you're such a good friend of Rap Gordon's, what's his phone number in Baltimore?"
His face flushed and he walked to the door and opened it. "If you don't want to believe me," he said testily, "that's your privilege. I prefer, however, that you don't try to set traps for me. Good-bye, Doris. I'll see you sometime." He stepped into the hall and was gone.
His strange behavior astonished me. Why should he mind if I set a trap for him if he was on the level? "He's a phony, all right," I muttered. A stooge for Perce Brown."
I was disgusted with him, but in an odd way a few minutes later, as I lay down on the sofa, an overpowering desire came to me. I knew one thing-I wanted Bill Beamer to make love to me again. I could have kicked myself for sending him away in the manner I had. What difference did it make if he was a phony or not? I didn't want to marry him; I only wanted him to take me to bed. A phony guy can do a girl as much good in bed as one who isn't phony. I must be losing my touch, I told myself. I'm getting stupid just as Perce brown said.
I lay on the sofa for a long time until I couldn't stand it any longer. The most peculiar feeling came over me then. I actually wished I were back in that shack with those two awful men.
"Whew," I muttered. "I'm in a bad way. I'd better have a couple of drinks and cool off."
I had two drinks, but I didn't cool off. Not one bit. I got to my feet and began to pace the floor like a fool.
I was almost tempted to call some guy-any guy and ask him bluntly to come and see me. I was actually trembling with desire and knew that if someone should happen to drop in at my place, I would grab him and act like more of a fool than I really was. I tried getting my mind off sex, but it kept coming back to me, this mad desire to be laid.
When the phone rang, I jumped. I was in such a bad state that when I approached the phone to lift it off the hook, an even more violent trembling took possession of me. I had to stop dead in my tracks and tell myself to get control over my feelings. The phone continued to ring and just as I picked it up and placed it to my ear, I heard the one at the other end being slammed down hard. I said, "Hello," several times but knew there was no one there to answer. I replaced the phone, got the bottle and drank from it. I choked a bit but managed to get my breath back. For a moment I had almost gotten the raw stuff down my windpipe.
"Brother," I gasped. "I'm really having a bad time of it."
"You look okay to me," he said from somewhere near the doorway.
I whirled and looked at him. He was standing in the doorway as I had thought. I steadied myself by hanging onto the top of a table. "Hello, Bill," I said. "I didn't hear you open the door."
"I knocked, but you must have been so busy muttering into the phone you didn't hear me. At any rate, when I pushed open the door you were."
"Close the door, Bill," I said.
He seemed surprised by my manner but closed the door. "What's with you?" he asked. "You're shaking all over."
"I don't know," I said shakily. "Maybe it's a delayed reaction from what happened earlier."
"You mean those men?"
I nodded. "I'm so ... hot, I can hardly stand it." A new look came into his eyes. "I see," he said. "You need a man."
I didn't answer right away, preferring to say something else. "Why ... did you come back?"
"Because I realized I acted like a schoolboy."
"I'm glad you came back, Bill. I'm sorry I treated you like I did."
He came to me and put his arms about me, holding me close to his strong, hard body. I could feel the front of him pressing eagerly toward me; he was very hard, and comforting, too. There's nothing as nice as being pressed against a man's hard body when you're in the state I was in. I gave him my lips and he kissed me hungrily. I snaked my tongue into his mouth and worked it about. The grip of his arms about me tightened and I thought he was going to break me in two.
"Bill ... "I said. "Oh ... Bill."
"You're burning up, aren't you?" he said thickly.
"Yes. Take me please?"
The lust that came into his eyes was fantastic. He grabbed my buttocks and me against his rigidity so hard that it hurt me. I sighed and kissed his mouth again as he began to make certain movements with his loins in a semi-circular manner. A moment later I felt his hand between us and knew he was unzipping. Then he thrust himself forward and I felt the hardness of his pressing against my stomach. My stomach wasn't where I wanted it.
"Bill ... darling ... the bed?"
I hadn't meant to call him "darling", but it seemed to do something wild to him. He picked me up roughly and carried me across the room and into my bedroom. He slammed me down on the bed and fell on top of me, his loins pumping.
"Wait, Bill ... let's take off our clothing."
He grunted but made no move to get up from me. He was thrusting at me wildly now, seemingly not caring that I was fully clothed.
"Bill!" I cried out sharply. "Please ... not this way."
I had to cry out his name several more times before he appeared to come out of his wildness long enough to allow me to undress. He also pulled off his clothing and stood naked before me. Before I could lie back down he grabbed me and flung me to the bed roughly with himself above me, pumping crazily.
I tried to seize him, to make the insertion myself, but he was moving so fast and furiously I couldn't do it.
"Bill...." I cried out, almost in desperation. "Please...."
'He snapped out of it momentarily, long enough to take hold of himself and ram it into me. He thrust hard at me and I felt the long penis making the penetration. I gasped and moaned at the same time, but then I lay still and allowed him to satisfy both of us. It came at last-one long, beautiful straining moment of high bliss.
He lay above me for a few moments and then did the strangest thing. Getting to his feet, he dressed quickly and walked out of the room.
"Bill," I called to him. "What's the matter?" The look on his face had been an odd one.
He didn't answer. A moment later I heard the hallway door being opened and then slammed. I sat up on the bed and blinked. Why was he angry at me? What was wrong with him? I grabbed up a robe and ran to the hall door and opened it to call to him to come back, but he was nowhere in view. I returned to the apartment and closed the door and leaned against it.
"What got into him so suddenly?" I muttered. I was flabbergasted by his action.
It was Friday evening when I took it into my head to go to the Club Lido. This was the club where I had met Rap Gordon and, while I wasn't sure they would admit an unescorted girl, I wanted to visit the place. I dressed carefully and took a cab downtown, preferring not to drive the car in case I did a bit too much drinking. I felt like drinking and drinking quite a bit. Despite the love-making of Bill I was very unsatisfied; I still had the urge for sex and excitement.
It was almost ten o'clock when I went down the steps at the front of the club-the place being situated in a basement. I paid the cover charge at the door and was mildly surprised when the man took my money and didn't question my being alone. The door swung open and I entered the semi-dark room. The bank was playing softly and couples were dancing. I had to find a table by myself and did so over near the bandstand. I felt slightly awkward sitting there by myself, but when the waiter had taken my order and brought the drink I felt pasier.
I saw her then. Perce Brown. She was sitting alone at the far end of the club. A waiter was talking to her and I saw him glance in my direction. He nodded to her, walked away and approached my table. Stopping nearby, he bent over.
"Miss Brown would like you to join her," he said.
I took a sip of my drink. "Tell Miss Brown, no thanks."
"Very well." He left and walked back to her table.
I saw her frown, then get up and walk straight toward me. I swore a little to myself-I didn't feel like talking to her, but the next thing I knew she was sitting down across from me without asking my permission.
"Sony, Doris," she said coldly, "but if you can be rude, I took another sip. "I wasn't being rude. I just don't want another hassle with you."
She grinned and pushed her short hair away from her high forehead. "No hassle. I'm sorry I blew my lid at you today. I have a lousy disposition sometimes."
"So I noticed," I commented drily.
"I have my good points and my bad ones, same as anybody."
I remembered how she had saved me from the two men and I smiled at her. There was no use in being rude to her. She was what she was the same as I or anyone else. "You're okay," I told her. "Only I wish you hadn't taken advantage of me."
Her jaw dropped. "What do you mean by that crack?"
"I don't mean what you did to me that time in my apartment, I was talking about your taking advantage of me today."
"I didn't take advantage of you, damn it. All I did was to....
I interrupted her. "Sure, all you did was to rescue me and then when you know I owed you a debt of gratitude, you jumped all over me."
"Oh ... that ... Well, like I said, I'm sorry. I have a bum disposition, Doris."
"Okay. Let's forget it."
She smiled. "That's the way I like to hear my little girl talk."
I frowned. "Hold it. I'm not your little girl. Don't say things like that."
"My, you're touchy tonight. Is something bothering you:
I drew in my breath and let it out slowly. "I came here in hopes of seeing Rap Gordon. It's about time he got back in town."
Her face clouded. "I see," she said vaguely. "Do you know where he is?"
"Sure. He's in jail. At least, I think he is, though he might be out on bail by now."
"He's not out on bail. He'd be back in town, I'm sure. I think he would come and see me if he were out on bail."
"Very likely they won't let him leave the state-Maryland, I mean. I don't think a suspect to a crime can leave the state he's been arrested in, though I'm not certain of this."
I leaned forward. "Will you tell me the truth?"
She lit a cigarette, drew on it in the manner of a man, exhaling the smoke violently. "Truth about what?"
"About Rap Gordon. Is he in jail? I mean, was he really arrested or was that just a story you had Bill tell me for some reason?
Her face clouded again. "He's accused of raping a kid. That's the truth, Doris. Why should you be concerned about a rapist?"
"I know him. I find it hard to believe he would do such a thing."
"Bosh. You can't ever tell about men, what they'll do. You ought to know that, you're no child."
I ignored what she said. "You told me once that you had an investment in Rap. What did you mean by that?"
"Well, kid, I invest money in a lot of diversified ways, businesses. One of them is a booking agency. Rap happens to be one of the clients of the agency. I don't run it personally, but I own a good-sized hunk of the action. That tell you what you want to know?"
"Thanks."
She looked around, frowned. "Can't we go somewhere else. I hate this damned joint. It's depressing."
I eyed her carefully. "And just what do you have in mind?"
She laughed nervously. "Don't get all steamed up. I'm not going to put the make on you. Not right now, at least."
"Thanks," I said drily. "Appreciate it."
"You're a funny kid," she said, and got to her feet. "Want to come with me? We can have a hell of a lot of fun...."
I shrugged, "Why not?"
We left the club and she steered me to her car which was parked nearby. It was a long, white Cadillac, a beautiful automobile. We got in and I leaned back on the seat, savoring the expensive look of the interior.
"Quite a tub you have here," I said casually.
"It's okay," she said, and started the motor. She moved away from the curb and swung it around the first corner to the right.
"Where are we going?" I asked after a few blocks. "You'll see," she said shortly.
I made no attempt to talk to her again until she had driven into a circular drive and brought the Caddy to a halt. I looked at the big house and wondered who lived here. "What happens now?" I asked.
"Want you to meet someone. Come inside."
I followed her into the house reluctantly, wondering why I had consented to come here with her. The inside of the place was like a set for a movie. I had never seen such a luxurious home. The main room was four times as large as my entire apartment and it was furnished with very expensive-looking furniture. The carpeting was so thick it was like walking on pillows.
"Like it?" she asked, looking at me oddly.
"Beautiful. Do you own it?"
"Yes. I don't live here, though. It's too big for me."
"All the lights were on when we entered. Must be someone here."
"Oh sure. There's always people here." And that was all she said about it then.
"What are we doing here?" I asked.
"Just wanted you to see someone."
"Who?"
"Sit down over there. Help yourself to a drink, if you wish. I'll be right back."
I sank down on a plush chair and was nearly swallowed up by it. There was a bottle on a low table nearby and I poured myself a drink. I glanced up to see her striding from the room. She walked exactly like a man, taking long steps and not moving her rear end much. Once again I wondered whatever had possessed me to let her bring me here. I was fairly certain she was going to introduce me to one of her queer friends.
I sat there for quite a while before I heard the sound of a door being opened somewhere. I glanced about the room, caught my breath and tried to get to my feet. My legs became weak suddenly and I couldn't move.
"Rap," I said. "So this is where you've been."
Rap Gordon, dressed in pajamas and robe, came across the room quickly. He pulled me out of the chair and kissed me ... on the cheek. "Hello, baby," he said. "Thought I was never going to see you again. How are you? Man, you look great, just great." He kissed my cheek again.
"I thought you were still in Baltimore."
He bit his lips. "No. As you see, I'm here. I'm-er-staying here for a few days."
I waited for him to say something about the crime he was supposed to have committed, but he didn't mention it. "Rap," I said at length. "Why didn't you at least call me?"
"Just got in town a few hours ago, baby."
"Did you intend getting in touch with me?"
"Sure, baby. Tomorrow. Absolutely. Hey ... why are you looking at me that way?"
"Oh ... was I looking at you strangely?"
He kissed me on the cheek again. "I'm imagining things. Man, am I glad to see you."
"How was Baltimore?"
"Okay, but never mind that. How've you been?"
"All right."
"You know something, baby? I've thought about that wonderful body of yours continuously, ever since I went to Baltimore. Man, how I missed you, baby."
"I missed you, too, Rap."
"Bet you've been swingin' just the same, though, haven't you:
I smiled. "Have you?"
"A little."
"Well, then ... so have I."
He puckered his lips. "Kiss me, baby, right on the mouth."
I kissed him but drew back a moment later. "What's the matter?" he asked, looking into my eyes. "That was a very short kiss."
I didn't answer him but turned away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later, I could scarcely remember running out of the house and down the circular drive to the street. I was terribly upset and I think I was crying a little. I had just had an awful shock, or so it seemed at the time. I don't know how far or for how long I ran, but it must have been quite a distance and a long time, for when I stopped I was totally out of breath and my legs were so tired I could hardly stand.
I saw a bar sign near at hand and almost staggered as I entered the place. I saw immediately that it was a dumpy place, but I didn't care. I walked wearily to the bar, pulled out a stool and sat. I thought I'd never get my breathing back to normal.
"You been running, lady?" the bartender said. "You're sure breathing hard."
"Y-yes," I said, and took a deeper breath, letting it out quickly.
"Something chasing you, lady."
"N-no. Give me a double shot in a glass."
He pushed it over to me. "Do you good," he said.
I swallowed some of the stuff, realizing I was acting like a kid who had discovered her mother in bed with a strange man. Something like that. I thought about Rap Gordon and shuddered. I wanted to throw up, but I held the whiskey down and finished off the remainder of it.
"Feel better?" the bartender asked. "Want another?"
"Yes to both questions," I gasped. I was filled with a strong disgust at all queers. I suddenly despised them, all of them. Call it unfair, call it childishness, call it anything, but I was sick of such people, thoroughly sick of them, even though I knew only one. Correction: two of them.
I left the bar a few minutes later, found a cab and went home. I found my door unlocked, but there was nothing unusual about that-I often forgot to lock my door; it was a bad habit of mine. I entered the apartment and headed straight for the bottle. I realized I was doing a lot of drinking these days, but I didn't care. Everything seemed to be falling apart and I couldn't have explained why. I knew I didn't really care about Rap Gordon; it was just the shock of finding out he was a queer, or at least bi-sexual, that upset me. I had thought he was all man.
I had several drinks and in time got rather high. This was what I wanted to do, though I would have preferred doing it with a man around-it was more fun that way. I pulled off my clothes and lay down on the sofa flat on my back. It was uncomfortable, so I got up and went to my bedroom and turned on the light.
I almost screamed.
Harry Brown lay naked on the bed.
I got control over my shaking nerves after a moment and leaned over and touched his arm. He opened his eyes and stared up at me stupidly.
"Hi," he said thickly. "How you?"
I grabbed up an old sweater from a chair and held it in front of me. "Pull the sheet over yourself," I said, and added, "What are you doing in my bed?"
He reached for the sheet and covered himself partially. "I got drunk and just walked in and lay down."
"Are you drunk now?"
He sat up and shook his head. "Kind of. Not too bad. What time is it?"
"I don't know. About one o'clock in the morning, I guess."
"Hey. I been here two or three hours. Where you been?"
"I went out for the evening."
"Found your door unlocked, walked right in. Was awful drunk. You excuse me?"
"I don't know. You've got a lot of nerve. "Turn your head, please."
He did so and I slipped the sweater on. It was a long one and when I had buttoned it my body was fairly well covered.
"Gun I look now?" he mumbled.
"Sure. One thing-the last time you were here I told you to stay away from me. Remember that?"
"Yeah. Remember."
"Did you think I was kidding?"
"I just wanted to see you again."
"So you barged in when I wasn't home, took off your clothes and fell asleep in my bed."
"Yeah. Sorry about that."
"I'll bet you are, Harry."
He half grinned. "You called me by my name."
"So?"
"Well, that must mean you aren't mad at me."
"How do you figure that?"
He didn't answer that one. "Say," he said, his speech still very thick, "why don't you be nice to me? Real nice."
"Doing what? "
"Well ... you could lie down beside me, couldn't you?"
"I could," I said coolly, "but I won't."
"Don't you like me at all?"
I thought about my disgust for Rap Gordon and the thought seemed to make me more tolerant of this guy. "You're all right, I guess."
"Please," he begged. "Lie down."
"No thanks."
"Then you don't like me."
"I didn't say I did, Harry. I said you were all right."
He mumbled something or other and tried to fasten his gaze on my legs. Apparently, he was having trouble focusing. I looked him over carefully, noting his thin hair, thin face, his weak-looking chin. I wondered if I could arouse enough manhood in him to....
"Let me make love to you?" he asked suddenly. "Please?"
Why not? I asked myself. "You think you can crawl out from under your sister's influence long enough?"
He blinked his eyes and the dull, drunken look appeared to have left him somewhat. "I'm not under her influence. Besides, what has that got to do with it?"
"Pull the sheet down," I said. "Let me ... look at you."
He grinned. "You want to see what I got?"
"Sure. Why not? Pull the sheet down."
He flushed slightly and shoved the sheet off his body. He lay there looking up at me now, one hand held over himself.
"Take your hand away, you dope. How can I see you if your hand is over it?"
He removed his hand and I looked at him and caught my breath. He was hard and ready. I felt a wave of excitement sweep through me. This guy might be a weak-kneed man, but at least I felt he was a man of sorts and not something else.
I sat down on the bed and ran my hand over his stomach. He shivered and for some reason this excited me even more.
"Touch me," he begged. "You know."
"You're supposed to be touching me, baby," I said.
"Yeah. I know. But this time, just for once, you touch me. I'd like that."
I took hold of him gingerly and ran my fingers up and down on his throbbing shaft. He sucked in air audibly and began to move his hips. I let go of him quickly. "Cool it," I said.
"Haven't had a girl in a long time," he muttered. "I'm burning up." He coughed and flushed at the same time. "Would you-would you be kind to me, do something nice for me?"
I studied his eyes. "Such as what?" I said, my heart pumping rather too fast. He told me bluntly.
I moved away from him a bit. "Wouldn't you rather make love to me in the usual manner?" I asked steadily.
"No. I mean, I will, but I'd like you to do it to me. I've never had a woman do it to me that way."
My heart was pumping even faster now. I glanced at his rigidity, leaned over and boldly kissed it. He cried out and grabbed me and tried to hold me there, but I struggled and broke free of him.
"No rough stuff," I said angrily. "What do you think this is?"
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "When I felt your mouth I guess I went a little nuts. Felt so ... wonderful."
I got up from the bed. "I'm not going to satisfy you ... in that way. I don't want to."
"Please," he begged. "Please satisfy me, please?"
"Not that way." I slowly removed my sweater and placed it over the foot of the bed. He gulped when he saw me. "Move over," I told him, but he was too busy staring at my breasts to hear me, I suppose. "Move over, damn it;" I repeated.
He moved over and when I lay down reached over and grasped one of my tits. He squeezed and it hurt. I knocked his hand away. "Oh ... did I hurt you?" he muttered.
"Of course you hurt me. I'm not a piece of wood."
"Sorry. I'm just so damned hot. I-er-I hardly know what I'm doing."
There was something about this that stirred me up considerably, if I needed to be stirred up any more. 'That's okay," I said unevenly. "You're not the only one who's hot, Harry."
"You hot, too?" he asked eagerly.
"Sure. Of course I am. Why do you think I'm lying on a bed naked with you?"
"If you won't-er-kiss me, will you let me ... kiss you:
He didn't mean an ordinary lip-kiss, of course. I turned on my back and stared up at the ceiling. "Harry, when a guy wants to do something to a naked girl in bed with him, he doesn't ask her ... he just does it."
I no more than had the words out of my mouth when he lowered himself On the bed, got between my legs, lifted them over his shoulder so my feet were on his back. I closed my eyes-I wouldn't have told him this, but his action had set me off like crazy-and lay there and waited for the wildly exciting touch of his mouth and tongue. I had experienced this before-I knew what it could do to me. He began awkwardly but I didn't mind how awkward he was. It felt so crazily beautiful that I lay there and purred like a kitten while he became more and more worked up. His instinct probably told him the right thing to do.
Because he did it the right way-leaving me limp and exhausted some fifteen minutes later.
He lay beside me, his eyes closed, breathing furiously. It was some time before he ventured to speak. "Boy," he said, his voice breaking. "I've never had anything excite me like that did."
I moistened my lips, they were still very dry. "Is that ... all you're going to do to me, Harry?"
"No. Let me rest. I'll do it. You know, the right way. I mean, well, you know what I mean, darling."
I wasn't sure I liked this "darling" bit, but I said nothing about it. I waited for him to get his breath and crawl above me, but he didn't do it.
"Harry," I said, glancing at him. "Have you stopped altogether?"
"No, I'm just tired. I'm worn out, Doris. Wait a while, please."
For the first time I noticed I could hardly smell the odor of whiskey on his breath. I moved closer to him and deliberately tried to. There was only a faint odor of juice. I moved back on my side of the bed. "Harry, how much did you have to drink?"
"I don't know," he said, his eyes still closed. "A lot."
"I think you're lying, Harry. I don't think you drank much. I think you were putting on an act."
His eyes fluttered open arid he turned his head toward me. "Why would I do a crazy thing like that?"
"I don't know, Harry. Are you sure your sister didn't send you to make love to me? "
"No," he said sharply. "I don't do everything she says. Wish you wouldn't make cracks like that."
"Sorry. I just don't believe you."
"Why would she send me to make love to you?"
"I don't know. It's just a feeling I have. Your sister is a clever and resourceful woman. She has a motive for doing everything. I can't figure her out sometimes."
"Well ... she didn't send me. I came on my own."
I was silent for a moment. "Good for you, Harry."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, good for you, Harry, that's what I mean."
He, too, was silent momentarily. Then, "My sister may not be as interested in you as you think, Doris."
"Oh ... what makes you say that?"
"The female part of her is queer for you, but the male part of her is...."
"You admit then that she is queer?"
He seemed surprised. "Sure. Of course. Why deny it? As I was saying...." But he didn't complete the statement.
I waited, but he didn't begin again. "Harry, you said a moment ago something about the male part of your sister. What did you mean?"
"Skip it. I don't want to talk about it."
"All right." But I was curious as could be now.
He was silent again for a while. Finally he spoke. "I wish you could knock off talking about my sister when I'm with you."
I smiled at him. "Sure, Harry. I'm sorry." I glanced down at him and noted that he wasn't rigid now. I touched him there lightly. He became rigid immediately, and I liked him better this way. I smiled to myself, but it was a tense, nervous smile.
"What's so funny?" he demanded. "Nothing. Just a private joke."
"Don't laugh at me."
"Harry," I said sharply. "I'm not laughing at you." lie had lifted his head from the pillow and now he lowered it. "Oh ... okay. For a moment there I thought maybe you were."
I ran my fingers up and down on him. "Are you rested yet?"
"N-no," he said hesitantly.
I let go of him and drew the sheet over my body. "Okay, Harry. I'm going to take a nap. When you feel restored to strength wake me up."
I had no intention of going to sleep, but I actually did drop off. The next thing I was aware of was his body between my legs. He wasn't trying to make love to me in the way I wanted him to, but was doing a repeat of the other way. I sighed and lay still, my eyes open, my heart fluttering again.
I have to say this for him-he was really passionate in the manner in which he went about it. He kept it up for a long time and every now and then struck a sensitive spot in me that nearly made me scream with pleasure.
He stopped for a moment. "You really like this, don't you, baby?"
"Of course I do. Why shouldn't I?"
He resumed doing it and I gasped.
"You're crazy about it this way," he muttered. "I can tell."
"I like it ... the other way, too, Harry."
He stopped and crawled up beside me and kissed the side of my face. "You know something? I could really be somebody if you were my woman."
This made me uneasy. "Harry," I said, "a man can be somebody without having a certain girl."
"Sure, I know that. What I meant was, I'd have more incentive."
"Wish you wouldn't talk that way. I don't like being made to feel an obligation."
"What?"
"I guess I didn't say that very clearly. I just wish you wouldn't get serious with me. You understand that?"
He lowered his head, ran his lips over my breast and stopped it almost in one motion. I like making love to you, Doris. You're so hot and eager and ready."
"Ready and waiting," I said drily.
"You really want me to ... do it to you?"
"Of course."
He sighed. "I really am very tired, Doris."
"Nuts. I don't believe you want to make real love to me. I think you're an oddball, too."
"No, I'm not," he said almost angrily. "Don't say things like that."
"Then why not prove yourself to me."
"You mean I have to?"
"You don't have to do anything except get up and go home," I said crossly.
He ran his hand through his thin brown hair. "Now you're getting sore at me. Don't get sore at me, Doris."
"You're getting me all frustrated," I said. "What do you expect me to do, pat you on the back?"
"Every guy has to take the thing he wants," he said with spirit.
"All right. You're the man. I'm the woman. What can I do?"
"I told you before. You can ... you-know-what."
"I don't want to do that to you."
"And I don't want to lay you. So where does that leave us:
"It leaves me here in bed," I said coolly. "It leaves you up on the floor getting dressed and ready to cut out."
He didn't take my broad hint but began nibbling on my breasts lightly. I felt a stirring in me again and hoped he would keep it up, but he stopped just as he had before.
"Why," I asked irritably, "do you always get me started and then slop yourself? Don't you know that drives me nuts?"
"Does it?" he asked innocently.
"Come off it, Harry. Are you deliberately trying to bug me?"
"No, but you're bugging me," he said firmly. "What? How?"
"By not doing what I want you to do."
"Oh ... I sec ... that bugs you?"
"You're damned right it docs."
I thought about it. I had never done this to a man, not really. "Harry," I said slowly, "if I do it to you for a while will you promise me something?"
"Yes, anything," he said eagerly, the lust in his eyes growing.
"Will you ... screw me afterward?"
"Sure. That's a promise."
"Can I depend on your promise?"
"You. You certainly can."
I sighed deeply and steeled myself. "All right, Harry. I'll give you what you want, but remember, you have to satisfy mc, too, afterward."
"How do you want me to get?" he asked, his eyes burning a hole in me.
"What?"
"What position?"
I lay flat on my back now. "You just use your instinct, Harry," I said. "I don't know what to tell you." I partially closed my eyes.
He crawled up over mc on his knees and I opened my eyes a bit more. I saw his bobbing prick close to me. I sighed deeply, reached for him, and began to do what he wanted of me.
CHAPTER NINE
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I'd get into trouble of some kind, sometime, by forgetting to lock my door, but I never expected it to happen when it did. I heard nothing, but saw Harry being knocked off me brutally. He went crashing to the floor with Bill Beamer on top of him, pummeling him with his fists. I saw Harry roll out from under Bill and jump to his feet. Bill also scrambled up and grabbed Harry, turning him around and hitting him on the jaw with his right fist. Harry hit the floor harder this time and lay still. Bill grabbed the sheet off the bed and threw it over Harry, then he turned to me.
"You bitch!" he roared. "I ought to break your goddamned neck!"
It would have been easy for me to panic, but I didn't. I grabbed my sweater and pulled it on and got off the bed. I glared at him. "What do you mean bursting in here like this? Just who do you think you are, Bill Beamer?"
His eyes were very cold as he moved toward me and reaching out suddenly, slapped my face hard, the force of it almost knocking me down. "That's for you, you lousy bitch!" he said angrily.
"Don't strike me again!" I shouted at him, "or I'll have you arrested."
"Go ahead, have me arrested." He hit me again and this time I fell full length on the floor. I was groggy and my head felt like it had been torn loose from my shoulders. I tried to sit up but lost my balance and toppled over.
"Damn you!" he yelled. "I was beginning to fall in love with you ... and I catch you like this with another guy."
I couldn't speak.
He picked me up and carried me into the front room and dumped me unceremoniously on the sofa. I dimly saw him go to the bedroom. I must have passed out for a few minutes, for when I opened my eyes I saw him roughly shoving a fully-dressed Marry Brown out into the hall. He slammed and locked the door and came over to me.
"You got any sauce?" he demanded.
I found my voice. "There, on the table." lie got the bottle and drank from it, then slammed it back down on the table. Giving me a hard look, he said. "Tell me something, baby. Why is it you're mixed up with all these deviates? Are you one, too?"
I rubbed my jaw. "You hit me, Bill Beamer."
"I'll hit you again if you don't answer my question, baby."
"I don't know the answer. I don't like deviates. I'm not one myself-I just seem to be attractive to them." I paused, rubbing my jaw again. "You hit me, damn you. What gives you the right to hit me?"
He seemed to soften a bit. "Sorry about that. I was mad. I don't like to see the girl I love in bed with another guy."
"You don't love me. You're a liar."
His face darkened. "Be careful. Don't talk smart to me or I'll take you over my lap and beat your fanny."
"You wouldn't dare." I paused, bit down hard on my lip. "You're a great one to be making a fuss. You talk about my association with deviates. How about yours? You work for Perce Brown."
"I used to. I don't any more. I quit."
I just looked at him.
"She's after you, baby, with every weapon at her disposal. She probably sent her brother here, though I haven't figured out why yet. You think she rescued you from those two men in the shack. Hell, if you'd looked around you'd have seen the truck they came in following you. They parked it down the road a bit and came up behind your car. Then they made believe they were going to attack you. Nuts. They were hired to do that by Perce Brown so she could arrive in the nick of time and save you.
That way, you'd owe her something and she could collect from you."
I got to my feet, pulling the sweater down as I did so-it had come over my hips and I had nothing on under it. "Is that the truth, Bill?"
"Hell yes. You remember the date you had with that sissy guy several weeks ago? He took you to the Club Lido and cut out on you. Then Rap Gordon took over. Rap Gordon is one of Perce's flunkeys. It was his job to get you interested in Perce, only he became mixed up with you personally and she had to send him out of town. He was never in Baltimore. He was just taken out of the Club Lido for a time."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
He picked up the bottle and had another drink. "Because I like you, damn it. I hate to see a cute kid like you caught up by those people. I-"
"You what?"
"Nothing."
"Are you telling me you know Perce is trying to-"
He whirled around and faced me. "Hell yes, she is. She's trying to turn you into a queer's girl. Don't you know that?"
"Yes, of course I did. That doesn't mean I will be."
"You will if she has her way."
I rubbed my sore jaw again. "You told me that Rap Gordon was in jail for raping a kid."
"I was told to say that. Don't ask me why. Maybe to get him out of the picture, your picture."
"Did you really work for her?"
"Yes, damnit. I was a fool. No more. I quit."
I changed the subject a little. "I'm mad at you for hitting me, but I guess I deserved it."
"Yes, you did. I shouldn't have hit you so hard, though." He paused and studied me thoughtfully. "Did it ever occur to you, Doris, that someday you're going to have to limit yourself to one man-your husband?"
"I don't want a husband, Dill. I want to be free to do as I want."
"Nuts," he said. "What kind of a way is that to live?"
"What's wrong with it?"
He came to mc suddenly, reached down and picked me up in his arms. "We're going to bed," he announced. "I'm staying with you the remainder of the night. I'm not going to make love to you, either. You get enough of that elsewhere, apparently." He carried me into the bedroom and placed me on the bed. I lay there and watched while he undressed. He crawled in bed after turning out the lights.
"Dill?"
"What?" he said out of the darkness. "Put your arm around me, darling."
"No. Go to sleep."
"I said, put your arm around me, darling. I called you 'darling'."
"Big deal. What's that supposed to do to me?"
I didn't answer that. Instead, I turned on my side and faced him. I could feel his breath stroking my face and it did something wild to me, so I put out my hand and touched his stomach. I felt his stomach muscles quiver a little and smiled to myself. He was just putting on an act with me-he wanted me as much as I wanted him, maybe more. I let my hand move downward on him and he didn't push it away but sighed softly. I found the proper place and touched him lightly, very lightly. Instantly he became rigid and I smiled again, although tensely this time. I moved my hand up and down slowly, lightly and once again he sighed.
"What are you trying to do to me?" he muttered. "I told you to go to sleep."
"I will-later," I whispered.
He turned on his side and faced me and put his arm over me. "You're the hottest damn gal I ever saw," he said thickly. "You never think of anything but sex."
"Yes, Bill," I whispered. "You're right." I found his mouth and kissed him, but he yanked away from me.
"What is it?" I asked. "I don't...."
"You don't want to kiss me."
He pushed my hand away from him. "Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning."
"I don't want to talk, Bill."
"Sure I know. You want me to take up where Brown left off. I'm wise to you, baby."
"That's a mean thing to say."
"I feel mean. Go to sleep."
"But you started to make love to me a moment ago."
"Yeah, but I stopped, didn't I?"
"Why?"
"I don't feel like it. Or put it this way. I changed my mind."
I touched his hot erection with my hand again. "You're ready for love," I whispered. "Why not use it?"
"Just because it's hard doesn't mean I'm compelled to use it.
"Most men do."
"I'm me, not most men."
"You're just being stubborn."
"And what's wrong with that?"
I let go of him and moved over on the bed. "Nothing." I turned on my other side so I was facing away from him. Fluffing up the pillow a bit, I placed my head on it almost angrily. I had never known a man to turn me down before and it irked me.
"Good night, baby," he said. "Sleep tight."
I didn't answer.
"I said, good night."
For a reason I couldn't have explained, I burst into tears and sobbed.
"Shut up," he said sternly. "Don't pull the tears bit on n me.
I stopped crying after a moment. "I think you're the meanest man I ever knew. You won't even kiss me."
"The reason I won't kiss you is because you reek of Harry Brown's shaving lotion."
"What?" He repeated it.
I jumped out of bed, ran to the bathroom, flicked on the light and turned on the shower. I was angry clear through, but I didn't want to smell of shaving lotion, so I took a quick shower and dried myself. I turned off the light and went back to the bed only to discover he was sleeping and even snoring a little. I lay down beside him and showered, the shower having made me a little cold. I snuggled up against him-his back was to me-and pressed my tummy against his back. He didn't move and his regular breathing told me he wasn't faking it-he was actually sleeping.
I put my arms over him and touched his stomach again. I let my hand go lower on his flesh when he didn't move still. I touched him on the proper spot and discovered he was limp. I smiled. I knew how to take care of this. I worked him gently and even though he was asleep he began to erect.
I buried my face against his back and let my breath strike him there while at the same time I gently massaged him. He moaned and half-turned until he was on his back.
"Slob," he muttered. "Brown ... slob."
He was muttering about either Harry or Perce, one or the other, but I paid no attention to this. I needed to wake him, so I continued to massage him.
"Honey," I said softly. "Please ... wake up, Bill."
He grunted and threw one arm over me roughly. The force of it striking me hurt almost as much as when he had hit me because his muscles were like iron, hard and powerful.
"Bill ... Honey, wake up ... please?"
His answer was to snore louder. I swore a little to myself and began to shake him. He muttered something or other and turned-over, facing me. When he did so I had to let go of him. His rigidity was now pressing against my tummy. I seized it and lowered it a little until it was somewhat between my legs. He muttered and tossed about, jerking it away from me. I swore again and stuck him back between my legs. He was still sleeping, of course, but suddenly he moved over on top of me, nearly crushing me. There's nothing as heavy as a big sleeping man.
I slapped him lightly on the face and he moaned and muttered, one following the other.
"Bill," I said sharply. "Wake up."
He sucked in his breath, letting it out in a long whooshing sound and rolled off me. I grabbed for him, but he knocked my hand away and turned on his side again, his back toward me.
"All right then, damn you," I said. "Sleep. Sleep until doomsday."
I yanked the sheet over me, turned on my side and fell asleep almost immediately, but not before hoping he would awaken during the night and beg me to let him love me. I'd enjoy telling him to go to hell.
Of course I would.
I had the craziest dream:
There was this woman without arms. She smiled at me and reached for her pen. "I'll have to write you a check," she explained. "I don't have much money on hand."
"That's okay," I said. "I guess a check is all right inasmuch as you don't owe me anything."
I took the check and walked out of the place. Out on the street again, a brown cow came up to me. She had a tender but reproachful look in her big brown eyes.
"Please, Miss," she said in a low tone. "I'm in terrible pain. You forgot your responsibility to me this morning. Help me."
"Sure," I said. "Have you the stool with you?" She handed me a three-legged stool and I sat down and relieved her of a gallon of milk. "Do you have a bottle handy, too?" I asked. She nodded and handed it over to me and I filled it with the milk. I handed the bottle back to her, but she stuck up her nose.
"No thank you, Miss," she said demurely. "I never touch the stuff."
I walked on. I was looking for a cab. I found one at the curb. I went up to the driver and said, "Have you a fare?" He shook his head and kicked the meter up to ten dollars. "But I haven't even gotten in yet," I protested.
"That's okay," he said, smiling. "I'm charging you in advance. I know exactly where you're going, you see. I can tell by the look on your face."
"Indeed," I said, climbing into the rear seat. "And where am I going, pray tell me?"
"To the hospital," he laughed. "You need an operation."
"What for?" I asked, puzzled.
The nurse shook me hard. "Wake up, Miss Clay," she said. "The operation was successful. We took the wart off your imagination."
"But that wasn't my trouble," I protested.
"You mean we made a mistake?"
"Well no ... I did ... You see, I was born free."
"Well then," the nurse said, "what you need is an insertion."
"What do you mean, an insertion?"
"You'll see," she said. "Just go to sleep and see what happens to you."
"Just go to sleep? But I'm already asleep."
The nurse seemed to change in appearance. Now she looked exactly like Perce Brown. "So you are," she muttered. "How nice for me. Will you kindly submit to me, please?"
"No!" I cried. "Never."
"Then I shall have to force you."
"Don't try it."
The nurse laughed oddly. "But I already have. The insertion has been made. Can't you feel it?"
I awakened with a start and it required a full ten seconds for me to realize it was Bill on top of me.
"Oh ... Bill...." I sighed. "How wonderful."
He just grunted and moved faster, his slick shaft buried deep within me.
"Oh ... Bill," I repeated. "How wonderful!"
When I awakened again it was morning. I rose from the pillow and looked for him, but he wasn't in the bed. I tried, to recall the ecstasy of the night before, but my mind seemed to be almost a total blank about it. I could remember him making love to me, but that was all. I wondered if I had been such a fool as to drift back to sleep while he was doing it.
"Bill," I called, thinking he might be in the bathroom.
There was no answer from him, but then I heard something. Water running. I got out of bed and drew on a robe and went to the bathroom, peering in. The shower curtain was drawn and the water in the shower was running.
"Bill?"
No answer.
"Bill," a voice repeated loudly.
The shower curtain parted and I almost screamed. Perce Brown stuck her head through it and grinned. "Hello, kid. Surprised?"
"What are you doing here?" I asked, bewildered. "Taking a bath as you can see."
"Where's Bill?" I asked, thoroughly puzzled and mystified. "Gone."
"Well look," I said angrily. "What's going on?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"Of course not. Come out of there. Get yourself dried and dressed. Of all the crazy things I ever heard of."
"Take it cool, baby," she said. "Everything's okay. It worked out just as I wanted if to."
"What are you talking about?" I drew my robe up tightly around my neck-I didn't like the way she had been staring at my half-concealed breasts.
"What are you talking about?" she countered.
"I'm not in the habit of waking to find outsiders taking a shower in my apartment."
"It is rather odd, isn't it?" she said, grinning at me.
"I'm beginning to think someone is crazy."
"Could be. Crazy about you, kid."
"Don't talk like that," I bellowed. "Get dressed and get out of here immediately."
"Okay, kid. In a few minutes."
"Right now "I insisted. "Immediately!"
"Take it easy, kid. What's your hurry?"
I started to grab the shower curtain and yank it aside, but she prevented me from doing so. She had amazing strength.
"What's the big idea," she demanded harshly.
I was even more flabbergasted. "What do you mean talking to me in that tone of voice? This is my place. I demand that you get dressed and clear out of here."
"Haven't you forgotten something, kid? I was the one who saved you from those sugar-beet workers."
"You're a liar. I know all about that. It was a set-up. You staged that."
She grinned. "Well, how about that. The kid is very wise today."
I grabbed from the shower curtain again and again she prevented me from yanking it aside.
"Don't do that again, kid," she said fiercely, her face dark with anger.
"Why not? Are you afraid to let me see what your body looks like?"
Her face darkened even more. "As a matt-er-of-fact, kid, I am. Now ... does that satisfy you?"
"Nothing you could do would ever satisfy me," I retorted angrily.
She laughed coarsely. "I seemed to satisfy you during the night all right or have you forgotten."
"You're out of your mind, hill slept with me."
Again she laughed, and it was extremely unpleasant sounding. "That's what you think, kid, that's what you think."
CHAPTER TEN
I stared at the woman with absolute loathing. "I'll give you just five minutes to get dressed and leave," I said, my voice shaking. "If you aren't gone by then I'm calling the police."
She removed the curtain from its hooks and wrapped it about her body. Stepping into the bedroom, she looked me up and down, her lips curving into a half sneer. "Come here, kid. Let me show you something."
"What?"
"We want you to do something for us," she said mysteriously.
"What do you mean 'we'?"
She walked through the bedroom and into the front room, stopping long enough to crook a finger at me. "Come and see who's here with us, kid."
I followed her into the room and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw him. "And what are you doing here?" I asked.
He was silting on the sofa, a drink in his hands. "Hello, baby," Rap Gordon said. "How's tricks."
"What have you done with Bill?" I demanded angrily.
They exchanged looks. "We have him at my place in the country, kid," Perce said. "That's where you'll have to go if you want to see him."
"What have you done to him?" I asked.
Rap spread his hands. "You mean besides conking him over the head? Nothing."
"What's with you two? Have you lost your minds?"
Rap got to his feet. "Ever heard of the white slave trade, baby?"
"Shut up, you fool," Perce yelled at him.
A sudden chill came over me. I turned to Perce. "So that's your business. Now that I know, what's to prevent me from telling the...."
I didn't finish the sentence. Rap jumped me from behind and holding me roughly, clamped something soft and damp over my nose. It smelled terrible, sickening. The moment I realized it was chloroform it was already too late. My head spun, the lights went out, and I seemed to sink into a dark pit. The dark pit had hands and arms and I felt myself being lifted and carried. The pit became much darker and for a long time I could see nothing, feel nothing. My eyes fluttered, the darkness lifted suddenly, and I felt something soft pushing up at me. I sat up, shook my head and stars danced about a room. I blinked and realized I was lying on a bed somewhere. The bed wasn't mine.
"Feel okay, kid?" a coarse voice asked.
I turned my head, looked up at a dim figure, and blinked again. I couldn't make out who the voice belonged to.
"Come on, kid. You're okay. Don't put on any acts." I knew then that the voice belonged to Perce Brown. 'T feel sick to my stomach," I mumbled.
"You'll be all right. Lie still for a while."
"Why did you do this to me?"
"Bring you here to my country place? Oh, just because I needed you here, kid."
"You kidnaped me."
She laughed harshly. "Call it that if you like."
"What for?"
"You'll find out, kid. Right now, take another nap. You'll need it."
I sat up straight and rubbed my eyes. "White slavery? Is that it?"
She had left the room. I wanted her back, so I screamed as loudly as I could and she reappeared quickly.
"No use in hollering your head off, kid. Nobody to hear you. Not out here in the country."
I focused my eyes on her, tried being cute. "I thought you liked me," I said. "So why are you doing this to me?"
"I do like you, kid, and that's exactly why you're here."
"But I thought you said something about white slavery." She grinned. "That's right, kid. But a different kind of white slavery."
"What's that mean?"
"You're going to be put to work."
"What?" I asked, puzzled.
"There are a lot of rich old Lesbians around who seldom get a chance at-"
I broke in. "At fooling around with young girls. Is that what you're saying?"
"Yeah. Right you are, kid."
"You're wasting your time. I won't let them."
"Sure you will. Wait until the stuff wears off. You'll be begging me for more. Unless you cooperate I won't give it to you." Without waiting for me to say anything she yelled out of the room. "Harry ... Come in here. Bring the syringe."
Harry Brown came into the room a moment later carrying a syringe. He didn't speak to me but simply looked at his sister. "She ready for another?" he asked.
"Yeah. Give it to her."
Harry grabbed my arm and plunged the needle into it before I could move away. He worked the syringe and withdrew the needle, holding his thumb on the spot where the needle had been. "I should have sterile gauze for this," he complained. "What if she becomes infected?"
His sister didn't answer this. "All right, Harry, you can go now."
Harry grumbled something or other and left the room.
"Stupid ass," his aster said with contempt. "More bother than he is good."
"What happens to me now?" I asked, frightened.
She laughed harshly. "Well, I should imagine you'll fall to sleep, sort of. More than likely you'll dream about-" Her voice trailed off eventually, or perhaps she stopped talking immediately, I wasn't sure which.
The room appeared to tilt....
I was somewhere else ... driving a car, it seemed-and it was raining.
I drove up the drive and stopped the car, then sat there for a moment thinking. The rain was still coming down, though not quite so hard now. I sat there smoking a cigarette until it got so short I had to roll down the car window and toss it out. The cigarette was out before it hit the ground, extinguished by the rain.
I reached over and pulled down the door of the glove compartment. I pulled out a piece of paper upon which was written the woman's name and address. I checked this. Stretching my neck to look out the car window on the other side, I could just barely make out the number on a post at the front of the house. The number was 3789. The street was Milbourne.
Mrs. Hillman lived here, I knew. Mrs. Hillman, whoever she was. I shrugged and got out of the car. The rain was coming down harder now and I had to race across the front yard and up onto the porch to keep from getting drenched. I rapped on the door.
No one answered the door right off. I saw there was a door chime button. I pressed it and held it in. I could hear the soft chimes inside somewhere; they sounded pretty. I waited some more, looking around. This was quite a house. Brick affair. Expensively built home. There was a lot of money tied up in it, no doubt. The door came open finally.
I saw a woman in a maid's uniform. She looked old, maybe sixty. Her skin was like old leather, or something.
"Hi," I said, keeping it casual. "I'm Miss Clay. I'd like to see Mrs. Hillman. She sent for me."
The woman looked at me silently for a moment.
"All right," she said, her voice sounding rather odd. "She's in. She's busy right now, but if you're Miss Clay you can come in and wait."
She pushed on the screen door but nothing happened. She bit her old lips and reaching up, unhooked the screen door. She pushed it open and held it that way while I went over the threshold, taking care not to brush against her.
"Miss Clay," she said abruptly. "Mrs. Hillman wanted me to ask you when you arrived in town."
I looked at her. Why was this important? "Just now," I said. "I came here directly. I can't see any importance to this. What does it matter?"
She walked away from me a few steps, then turned about. "I know nothing about the matter. I am only carrying our Mrs. Hillman s order. You may go in there and have a chair." She pointed at a nearby doorway. "The front room. I'll tell her you have arrived. She asked me to tell you, also, that you may help yourself to a drink. You will find most everything on the little table by the front window."
"You are kind," I said. "Most kind."
"Please close the door behind you," she said.
I smiled. "Certainly. I wouldn't think of leaving the door open."
She caught her breath, but said nothing. I stood there and watched her walk stiffly away and disappear through one of the several doors that led off the hallway.
I entered the front room and looked around. It was what I had expected to see. Rich-looking. Fine furniture, tasteful type of stuff. The carpet was deep and wall-to-wall. It was an immense room with a high ceiling. This wasn't a new house. I judged it to be well over forty years since it had been built, but whoever had had it built had put money in it.
I walked over to the table where several bottles were standing. I looked at the labels. It was all good stuff. I didn't especially want a drink, but I got a glass and poured one anyway.
I walked about the big room looking at things. Over behind one of the three sofas that were spaced about the room I saw a drapery hanging. There was a cord that ran down beside it. On impulse I reached up and grabbed the cord and gave it a quick yank. The drapery came apart, revealing a bronze statue of a man.
The man was naked. I raised my brows a little. The statue wasn't only a naked man but an excited one. He had a hard-on, but I found it oddly uninteresting. I stood there looking at the thing for an amused moment, then pulled the cord and the drapery came back in place.
I took a swallow of my drink. It tasted okay. I took out my pack and lit up a cigarette. Cigarettes always seem to taste better after a drink for some reason. I hunted around for an ash tray, found one, picked it up and carried it over to an oversized chair and started to sit down. There was a sudden blare from a radio. It seemed to be in the next room or somewhere fairly close at hand. Almost immediately it was turned down and I heard a woman's voice saying something to someone. I couldn't make out what it was she was saying.
I leaned back in the chair and swallowed more of the whiskey. Again the radio blared out. This time I heard the woman.
"Turn that damned thing off," she shouted. The radio went off in the middle of a rock n roll record. I was glad of it. Apparently, the woman was, too. "That's better," she said, not quite so loud this time. "How can you stand that racket, Janie?" she asked. I heard no answer to this. There was nothing but silence now.
I sat there for a long time. I was getting restless. Where was Mrs. Hillman? What was she trying to do-make me wait until she got good and ready? It looked like it.
I heard the voices again and then there was silence. Immediately following the silence I heard a girl shout something. It sounded like the word "bitch", though I wasn't sure.
There was the sound of chairs scraping the floor. There seemed to be a brief scuffle in the next room-and then more silence. I took a puff on my cigarette, snuffed it out in the ash tray, finished off the drink and got to my feet.
I walked quickly across the carpet toward the door leading out of the room into the hallway. "Miss Clay?"
I turned around just as I had crossed over the threshold. Down the hall I saw a tall, dark-haired woman of perhaps forty-five. She was standing by an open door looking at me. She was smoking a cigarette through a long holder.
I looked at her. "I'm Miss Clay."
"Yes, I know. Where are you going? Were you about to leave, Miss Clay?"
"Yes. I was. I suppose you're Mrs. Hillman."
She moved her head a little, took a puff on the holder. She moved up the hall toward me, letting her rather broad hips move around more than was necessary. There was a slight smile playing around her rather loose and thick-looking lips.
She came close to me, looked up into my face. I could smell the liquor on her breath. She seemed to weave a little.
"Lovely, aren't you," she said in a low, throaty tone. "How old are you Miss Clay?"
"Twenty-one and too old to be kept waiting. Sorry."
I turned and walked to the door. I heard her quick steps behind me and felt her hand on my arm, tugging at it.
"Turn around," she said softly. "My goodness, you can't walk out on me like this. I've been waiting for you."
I turned about and looked at her face. I could see that at one time she had been a pretty woman, but she wasn't now. She looked just plain middle-aged and plenty of it. Her chin was trembling.
"All right," I said. "I've come this far. I might as well stay, Mrs. Hillman. Lead the way."
"Good girl," she said and gave my arm a quick squeeze. "Let's go back into the big room. We can close the door. Come along, please." I m commg.
We entered the big room and she closed the door carefully after us. She pointed at a chair. She wanted me to go and sit in that chair. So I deliberately chose another one and sank down on it.
She looked about the room for a moment, as though considering something or other. She wasn't. This was just part of her little act to impress me.
"Please sit down," I said. "And get on with it. I'm in a hurry."
She looked at me sharply as though she couldn't quite believe her ears.
"I said sit down." I spoke roughly.
Her eyes-they were very dark eyes-bulged just a trifle, but I caught it. "Aren't you," she said, breathing heavily, "being just a tiny bit rude to me?"
Now was the time for the disarming smile. So I smiled at her disarmingly. "Sorry," I said. "You were making me nervous."
She looked at me for a long moment. "May I offer you a drink, Miss Clay?"
"Sure. Thank you."
But I didn't move from the chair. I knew that she knew I had already had one of her drinks. I also knew she expected me to get up and fix her one, too. I didn't make the offer. She could fix them.
She did, too. She did it reluctantly, but she did it. Her face was beginning to look flushed and excited. I sat there and watched her as she mixed two drinks. She seemed flustered. She brought one of the drinks and handed it to me without saying anything. I took the glass from her slightly shaking hand and immediately, without waiting for her, tossed it off and put the glass down resoundingly on a nearby end table. I told her bluntly that her whiskey was no good, just to get a rise out of her. She went to her chair and sat down, turning her head away from me momentarily. I think her feelings were so up in the air right then that she was afraid of telling me off, or trying to, and taking a chance of having me get up and leave. I suspected that these dames, all of them, when they set their hearts on a girl-she had done this with me, I knew; I could tell they have to have her around. They have to have her around so they can play their little sadistic tricks on her. Every one of these women is sadistic, as well as masochistic. They are mean bitches when the chips are down, and sometimes when they aren't, but of course they can't help this.
This was why it was important for mc to get off on the right foot with her. She had heard about me from some source, probably another woman, one who had known me. She had been intrigued. She had the money, so why not? She wanted a girl-bad. So she had asked me. I was here.
So was she here. We were here together in this room.
I waited.
She sat silently for a time while I simply looked at her. "Are you-at liberty ... Miss Clay?" she said, her voice soft and a bit uncertain. "I-"
I crossed my legs deliberately. I saw her looking at my legs. "Cm here," I said. "Would I be here, otherwise?" I stared at her, straight into her dark eyes. She lowered hers for a moment. Then looked up at me again.
"You ... seem terribly bold ... Why?"
I gave her a small, calculated smile. "Do you think so, Mrs. Hillman?"
She looked bewildered for just a brief moment. Then she caught herself up, smiled back at me. "You just be yourself, Miss Clay, please. I'm sure that will be best. It's just-it's just that I've never talked to a girl before who was so ... well, so bold."
I laughed easily. "Sorry," I said.
She ran her tongue over her thick lips nervously. "I'm sure you aren't as bold as you seem to be. I daresay there's a soft side to your nature, isn't there?"
I got to my feet. She looked alarmed.
"What you want," I said harshly, "is a girl scout. I'm not one. Good-bye, Mrs. Hillman."
I walked out of the room. I thought for a moment she was going to let me leave. That would have been a bad thing. If she had let me go through the door I would have had to change the routine a little. But she called out to m
"Please ... Miss Clay. Please don't go. You have no ... idea of how badly I ... need you. I m make ... love to you."
I went back and sat down in the chair next to her. reached over, took her hand in mine. She looked up at m Two big tears were resting on her cheeks. I almost felt so for her. I put this feeling away in a hurry.
"All right," I said. "Just so we have a basis f understanding. I'm me. You're you. What my problems doesn't concern you. Understand that?" She nodded though I knew she had no idea of what I was talking about."
"Whatever you say, Miss Clay."
"You have a problem. You sent for me. Is that right? She nodded again. "Okay. For a certain sum of money agree to give you ... what it is you need. There's this, however. Don't try to crap on me. If you do I'll leave. Understand?"
She nodded once more. She mumbled something under her breath.
"What?" I said. "I didn't hear you. Speak up." Her chin quivered a little, but she managed to say it. "You'd better be good, Miss Clay," she said. "Damned good."
I did the right thing then. I just reached over and slapped her hard-on the face. She straightened up like a frightened rabbit. Her dark eyes were wild-looking now.
"Sorry," I said calmly. "That was necessary. And never mind that wild look in the eyes. You'll need all the passion you can summon up-from here on in."
There was a slight unexplainable movement about the corners of her mouth. She looked at me; it was a straight look.
"You may be in for a small ... surprise, Miss Clay." I just laughed at her. I'd heard that one before. "Please ... don't laugh."
I stopped laughing. "I'll do as you say, Mrs. Hillman. Dp to a point, that is."
"What does that mean?" she asked nervously.
"It means you have hired me as a lover, Mrs. Hillman, but it does not mean I belong to you."
She wet her lips. "Just the mention of that word 'lover' makes me hot," she said, her voice shaking.
"I think you'd better make out the first check now, Mrs. Hillman. You know the amount."
She got to her feet carefully. She had to do it carefully. She was trembling all over. I stood watching her while she fumbled with the checkbook.
She got the check written after a time and handed it over to me. I put it in my purse.
"Where is the bedroom, Mrs. Hillman?"
"I'll have Lucy show you ... honey." She tried to grin.
This irritated the hell out of me. "I'll find it myself. Is it on the second floor?"
"Yes. The first door at the head of the stairs. On the right. You'll like the room, Miss Clay. Please ... undress yourself."
"Of course," I told her. "I'll be waiting for you, my dear lady."
"Oh, you make me so terribly hot, Miss Clay. Will you let me do anything to you, anything I want?"
"Certainly, Mrs. Hillman. I'm here for one reason-to satisfy your lust for young girls."
"Oh," she squealed. "I'm so excited, I swear I'm going to die."
I smiled at her. "Wait until you see my body. You won't want to die then, I assure you, Mrs. Hillman."
"How wonderful," she sighed. "You're such a lovely little blonde thing. Miss Brown was right. You're worth every cent she asked of me."
I went up the stairs and suddenly the walls reached out and began slapping me across the face....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"HEY, WAKE UP.
The voice came to me from some place a long way off. I ducked my head, blinked my eyes, tried to focus them again and did so, finally.
"Wake up, Doris. It's Harry."
I sat up. "Was I dreaming?"
"No. Perce was reading to you. It's a little thing she wrote. I gave you a sedative-not the morphine she thinks I gave you-and then she read this thing substituting your name in the narrative. The idea is to plant Lesbianism in your subconscious so that later on you'll be ready for ... the ladies."
I rubbed my eyes. "It seemed so real."
"Yeah. For heaven's sake, don't let on to her I told you-about substituting the sedative for morphine. You're supposed to be hooked on it."
"Oh ... I see. She gets me hooked and then I'll do whatever she wants of me, like sending me out to meet old Lesbians."
"That's right. Perce has gone into town. No one here but Rap and me. Rap's got a gun, so don't try to run away."
"What a joker he turned out to be."
"He can't help it. She's got him hooked, too."
"Wait a minute," I said thoughtfully. "I was right in the middle of this ... story thing ... and then you started slapping me. If Perce was reading to me how did she get out of the room so fast?"
"I read the last part to you. She told me to. When I was sure she had gone I slapped you awake."
"I thought your sister ... Well, I thought she wanted me for herself. So why is she doing this to me?"
"She did want you originally, but you turned her down so often she became angry and decided you were good bait for the dykes. Now she intends to make money off you."
"I never heard of such a far-fetched thing."
"Of course you haven't. That's why it works so well. No one has heard of it. Lesbianism isn't talked about too much, even now. It-" He broke off and left the room quickly.
I tried to get up from the bed but was too weak to do so. I slumped down and closed my eyes....
... the rain began to fall and I found myself back in the Hillman home. There was one big difference this time. I wasn't a girl ... I was a man ... a man named ... what was my name as a man?
Someone had already carried my bag up to the room, I found when I got there. I grinned. Someone had been pretty positive I would be staying. I closed the door behind me and looked the room over. It was okay, not the very best, but okay. I went over and sat on the bed. Seemed all right. There was a bathroom next door. A door led from my room to it. After I had opened it and inspected the bathroom, a knock came on the hallway door. I opened it.
"Hello," she said girlishly. I saw a young girl standing there. She was looking at me with the sort of interest in her serious-looking blue eyes that I easily recognized. She was about sixteen and had very long, very blonde hair. She was, I saw immediately, a damned pretty girl. Her breasts were obviously making an effort to impress me. They did. She wore a sweater; it was a light blue in color, and too tight for comfort. Hers, not mine. Her skirt, I saw as I casually let my eyes sweep up and down her body, was short and tight. It came to about four or five inches above her knees. Her legs, I saw also, were shapely, trim-looking. She had on those soft, pointed-toe shoes that kids wear.
There was a slight, self-satisfied smirk on her young face.
"Like what you see?" she asked, giving me what she thought was a very sophisticated look.
I grinned. "Hi. What's your name, kid?"
Moving her shoulders and hips as (she thought) movie stars would be apt to do, she moved slowly past mc and into the room. Then, her back to mc momentarily, she swung around abruptly, again as she had seen some movie queen do on the screen.
With a hand on one hip she pretended to study me, I guess.
"All right," I said, "Who are you imitating and what do you want of me?"
"So you are a mama's big moment," she said, allowing a faint, practiced smile to hover over her face briefly. "Interesting." She wet her lips a little. "The name is Jane."
I stared at her. Then, without warning, I turned and closed the door and locked it. I put the key in my pocket.
She seemed startled. A quick flush came to her cheeks.
I went over and sat down on the bed. "You wanted to talk to me. Is that it, kid?"
She studied me carefully now. "Not especially," she said, and I had to hand it to her; she had guts for a kid. "You don't particularly impress me as being much."
I laughed. "No. I guess I'm not much, as you say, but-" I reached over and grabbed her and yanked her close to me, "but I'm enough for a goddamn brat like yourself. I'll have a kiss, please. No ... don't struggle, kid. You came in here of your own accord."
I bent her back on the bed. She was mad, mad as hell. Too bad. I kissed her, on the mouth, she bit me, on the neck, she struggled to get away, and I kissed her, on the breasts-almost.
She managed to break away from me and jump up on her feet. I lay on the bed and looked up at her, grinning.
Her face was a mottled red now and her breath was coming in little jerks. She ran to the door and pulled and twisted the knob. I just watched her.
She whirled about, her face contorted with fear and anger. "You louse," she spat. "Let me out of here."
I lay there and grinned up at her.
"When I get ready," I said easily. "Sit down here by me, kid. I want to talk to you, maybe."
"Who do you think you are-Tarzan?"
Oh, the hell with her, I thought. I lit a cigarette. She stood by the door breathing hard and looking at me with very bright blue eyes.
"Do you smoke, kid?" I said at length.
"You go to ... hell!" she snapped.
"Look," I said calmly. "The next time you take it into your sixteen-year-old head to amble into a guy's room, especially a guy like myself, make sure you're ready for anything. I don't give a goddamn about your being just a kid, a good-looking kid, I'll add. I care nothing about your morals, your fears, your desires, your actions. But when you come here, you automatically, in my opinion, make yourself available to me. And having done that, I take over the scene. Do you dig that, kid? If you do, then you had better plan your future actions to conform with it. Do I make myself clear to you?"
Her chin trembled. "Please ... let me out of here."
I got to my feet, went over to the door, took the key out, unlocked it. She started out, but I grabbed her arm.
"Listen, kid. One more thing. You want to keep that pure little button of yours, then you stay the hell away from me. Got that?"
She yanked her arm loose from my grasp, not that she could have done it if I hadn't let her, and broke and almost ran down the hallway.
"Remember that," I called after her, but she had gone down the stairs at top speed. I laughed and closed the door.
I opened my bag, pulled out a bottle of bourbon and set it on the dresser. I took a look at myself in the mirror. Black hair, gray eyes, straight nose, firm-looking chin-it all added up to a picture of the guy I frankly admit I am. A stud. I make no bones about this. Being a professional stud is my racket and always will be. It's a good racket if you've got the guts for it-good pay and plenty of leisure time. I like this sort of thing. But don't get any ideas about me. Most people consider me a stinker of the worst sort. Maybe I am. Maybe the goddamn respectable banker who talks a widow out of her home for peanuts is a stinker, too. Maybe the nice and pleasant-acting doc who looks at your throat, and says, "Well, well, what's this?" charges you five times what it's worth and then sends you along to one of his goddamn buddies to look you over and recharge you five more times what it's worth, is a stinker of the worst sort, too. In short, maybe the world is full of stinkers.
I opened the bottle and finding a glass in the bathroom, poured out two fingers of the stuff and drank it. I put the cap back on the bottle and shoved it into one of the dresser drawers. When I did this I saw a folded piece of paper lying on the bottom of the drawer.
I picked it up curiously and opened it. There was hand-scrawled writing on the paper. I saw my name on it. I read it.
Mr. Janes: (It read) Either leave this house immediately or I will go to the police about you and Mrs.-
That's all. The name Hillman wasn't there, but of course that was what had been left off. I wondered who had written the note to me. I examined the handwriting. It looked like that of an elderly person, a woman probably.
That would leave the girl out of it. The maid? Probably. I had a good notion to leave the room, go look her up and shove it down her throat. Then I said to hell with it. I tore the note up and dropped the pieces in the wastebasket.
I looked out the window. The rain was still coming down, harder now than when I had driven into the driveway. I stood there for a while, thinking about things in general. There wasn't much to think about, really. I needed dough. That was about all. Money and I like each other lots.
There was a flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder. I looked at my watch. Six o'clock, it said. Six o'clock in the evening, the middle of the second week in June.
More lightning. I reached over and yanked down the shade.
I didn't like storms.
I sat there smoking one cigarette after another and having a drink now and then. I did this until eight-thirty. I was beginning to be hungry. Just when I was about to go downstairs and demand some supp-er-that's the right word, demand; that's the only way for a guy in my position to get along with my "clients"-someone knocked on the door. I opened it and the old woman, the maid, stood there with a tray in her hands.
"I was told to bring you your dinner," she said quietly. She stepped in and slammed the tray down on a table, turned and left the room without another word, or even a glance at me.
She started to close the door after her, but I stepped over and held it open. "Just a moment," I said harshly. "I wish to say something to you, Lucy."
She stopped and turned around. She just looked at me. There was hatred in the look. I wondered what it was with this old girl.
I went over and snuffed out my cigarette while she stood silently waiting. I came back to where she was. I reached down and took hold of her old chin, not hard, just lightly.
"What would you think, old girl, if I were to suddenly kiss you on those leathery old lips of yours? Tell me."
She struggled with herself momentarily. "Do I have to answer that?"
"Certainly."
"I'd go and wash my mouth out with lye."
I grinned. "Good for you, old girl. Now get the hell out of here before I think I'm dead like you are and try it."
I squeezed her chin hard now and she had trouble saying it, but she did anyway.
"Take your filthy, rotten hands off my face."
I let her go. When she turned I gave her a hard slap across the rump. She gasped, clutched at herself.
"First time a man has put his hand on your old carcass in thirty years I'll bet."
"No man did then," she snapped. "And no man did just now either."
"Be careful with your tongue, old woman."
"You be careful with your filthy paws, too."
I laughed. I was beginning to like this old female better. She had a little spunk. She didn't strike me as Mrs. Hillman had, all full of desires and fears and crap. Jesus, I can't stand such useless, creepy damned bitches. I closed the door and went over and sat down to the meal. It was cold, but I ate it-all of it, roast beef, gravy and potatoes, and a vegetable. There was a small pot of coffee, too, which I drank.
I should have had more sense.
Twenty minutes after drinking the coffee I began to feel it. I knew what was happening. It was a fairly old deal. Drugs. It was just a question of who had done it, but I thought I knew, all right, if it followed the pattern, which it very likely did. Goddamn freaks. Women, damn them.
Some women just can't take the first encounter with a professional stud. That is, they can't take it the usual way. They have to play it so goddamn smart.
I shrugged. The hell with her. I staggered a little getting my clothes off, but get them off I did. I got my pajamas on before I passed out. I think I managed to climb onto the bed, too, but I'm not certain about this.
All I can say about it is that later when I woke up, I knew it had happened. My pajama bottoms had been removed and I was lying half-naked on the bed.
I sat up and shook my head. She couldn't have planted much dope in the coffee, for I didn't have much of a headache.
I lit a cigarette and tried a grin on for size. I have never been able to quite get used to the things, some of the things, some women who hired me will do in order to gratify themselves at the outset without having to submit to me.
The way Mrs. Hillman had operated, well ... my pajamas were not on me....
Obviously she hadn't wanted sex in the usual manner.
I lay there.
Someone came into the room and got on the bed. The someone was naked.
I felt something hard pressing my lips. I tried to pull away.
The hard thing thrust at me. I turned my head. "Damn you, hold still," he said.
I opened my eyes, I guess, and saw Harry Brown on the bed. He was sitting on my chest. "Get off of me, Harry," I begged. "Please don't...."
"I read you another chapter, kiddo," he said. "A different one. I did the name-substituting myself. Thought I might as well enjoy myself before Perce turns you into a dyke."
I screamed and struck out at him, but he grabbed my hands and bent them over my head against the pillow.
"Take it easy, kiddo. I just want to finish what you started in your apartment."
"You don't have to brutalize me, Harry!" I cried.
He let go of my arms. "You mean you're willing to take me ... this way?"
"Of course, silly," I told him, "I will, that is, if you'll help me to escape from here."
"All right, baby. I'll help you," he said eagerly. "You take me and I'll ... take care of you. Agreed?"
"Sure, Harry. Do we have enough time? I mean, will your sister be back soon?"
"She won't be back for an hour or so."
I closed my eyes. "All right, Harry. Put it ... in."
I was so relieved at discovering I was really a girl-and not a man as in the dream-that I would have done anything for him, but being a woman, I figured I might as well bargain with him to help me get away from here. He put it into me then-all the way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
There was a repetition of the scene in my bedroom at home. Harry was torn off me roughly, lifted high into the air and sent crashing against the wall. I think I screamed for a moment but stopped when I saw the grim face of Bill Beamer.
"All right, you sexpot!" he cried at me. "If you have to have it, I'll be the one, not this punk."
I looked at him, looked at the crumpled, still figure of Harry on the floor. I didn't know if I was embarrassed or happy to see Bill again, or both.
"I had to let him do it," I told him. "I had no choice."
"I know," he said, his tone quieter now. "They've got you all doped up. You don't know what you're doing."
I did know what I was doing, but if he wanted to feel this way, why should I discourage it? I wasn't altogether a fool, only partly. The truth was, having Harry do that to me had really sent me. It had ended all too soon and if Bill Beamer could get me out of this place and take up where Harry had left off, fine. I was ready. First, however, he was to get out of this house. Perce might come back and really shoot me full of dope.
"Bill, darling," I said. "Take me away from here. I feel terrible." I was lying just a little.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
I wasn't at all sure I could, but I thought so. Just the same, it might be fun to have him carry me. "I don't know, Bill. Maybe you'd better pick me up."
He picked me up in his powerful arms and carried me from the room. I saw Rap Gordon lying on the floor, a gun near his outstretched hand. Apparently, Bill had knocked him cold.
"Don't worry about him," Bill said, seeing my look. 'I took care of that fag."
He carried me outside, put me in a station wagon, climbed in behind the wheel and tried to start the motor. After some difficulty the motor came alive and Bill drove away from the place rapidly.
"Where are we going?" I asked, huddled up against him. I felt cold, for some reason.
"To my place, darling. It's only a few miles from here."
"I feel funny," I said, my teeth chattering.
"Yeah. All those drugs they gave you. When we get to my place I'll give you something to counteract them. There's a robe in the rear of the car. Get it and pull it over you, Doris."
I got the robe and put it over me, but still I was cold. "Can you turn on the heater?"
He turned it on and after a short while I felt better. He drove for possibly twenty miles before turning into a driveway, pulling up in front of a brick house and stopping. He cut the motor. "Come on, darling. You need the counteracting pills. Then you've got to go to bed until I can get a doctor out here to look you over."
He helped me inside and took me directly to a bedroom. I lay down and he left the room, telling me he would be back presently. It was nice knowing I had someone I could depend on, instead of the opposite, someone who merely wanted to use me. When he returned he had a glass of water and two pills which he told me to take. I took them and lay flat on my back. I was chilled again.
"Don't worry, darling," Bill said, smiling down at me. . "You'll be all right after a time. I called the doctor and hell be here as soon as he can make it." He started to leave the room.
"Bill, darling ... don't leave me alone. Stay with me."
"I have some phone calls to make, Doris. I'll be back in to see you soon. Try to go to sleep."
I blinked. "I've had enough sleep, darling. Besides, when I sleep I have the craziest dreams. I seem to turn into other people. I'd rather stay awake."
"Do as you think best, darling," he said strangely. "I have work to do at the moment."
I looked up at hid blond head, his honest blue eyes, saw his flashing smile and felt much better. "All right," I said softly, "but when you're through, will you come in and make love to me?"
He laughed and kissed me. "Of course I will, darling. Everything is going to be fine for us from now on."
"Oh ... Bill," I sighed. "How nice to hear you say that."
He kissed me again. "You'd better deep, I think, until the doctor arrives."
"All right. I'll try to."
He kissed me once more and left the room, closing the door after himself.
I lay there for a long time before I finally dozed off. The next thing I knew, Bill was shaking me awake. "Darling," he said, handing me a garment. "Wake up and put on this nightgown. You can't lie there with your street clothes on."
"All right. Thank you," I mumbled.
I got up from the bed and disrobed as he watched me. It thrilled me to have Bill watch me undress and when I was naked, he moistened his lips nervously. I smiled and put on the nightgown. Maybe he would love me ... a little.
"Are you busy now, Bill?" I asked.
He flushed a little. "Yes, but I'll be done with my work soon. Then I'D come in ... and see you, darling."
I sighed. "I hope so. For some reason, I'm terribly passionate. I seem to be burning up."
He kissed me and I tried to wrap my arms around him, but he forced me to lie down again. "Wait a while, darling," he said, smiling. "Just be patient. I promise you, you'll have all the loving you ever wanted." And with that he was gone from the room again.
I dozed off again and when my eyes fluttered open I saw a strange man sitting on the edge of the bed. He was middle-aged and well dressed. His eyes, I saw, were very large and a dark brown in color.
"Who are you?" I asked, drawing the sheet up around my neck.
"Do you want to know my name?" he asked, grinning. "Where's Bill? What are you doing here?"
"I've come to make love to you, my dear."
"What?"
"Don't get out of the bed, my dear. Stay right where you are. I hope you aren't going to scream or anything. Are you:
"Bill," I called. "Bill, come in here."
Bill didn't come. I called out to him several times, but he didn't answer. I turned to the man. "Please get out of here."
He shook his head and took my hand. "No. I'm not leaving."
"Who are you?" I demanded. "Are you the doctor?" He seemed surprised. "Yes, I'm a doctor. How did you know that?"
"Bill told me he was sending for a doctor. If you are here to examine me then it's okay." My mind was very confused.
"I'm not here to examine you, my dear. I told you. I'm here to make love to you. My, what a lovely, young, blonde thing you are. I-"
"Get out of here!" I shouted at him.
"My goodness," he said. "You mustn't shout and take on this way. I'm very disappointed in you, my dear."
"I don't care if you are. Bill...." I called out. "Please make this man leave."
Bill didn't come.
The man smiled and ran his hand up my arm. I tried to draw away from him, but something prevented me. "Please," I said, "go away. I'm ill."
"I don't think you are, my dear. You're perfectly well. You're just frightened."
"I'm not frightened. I just want you to get out of my bedroom."
He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that just yet."
I stared at him as he smilingly removed his jacket and placed it carefully over a chair. Off came his shirt and tie and undershirt, which he also placed over the chair. Then he removed his shoes, socks and pants. He might be middle-aged, but he had a very young-looking body, I noted. A wave of excitement passed over me and I shivered at the same time. My senses returned to me and I tried to crawl out of the bed, but he grabbed me and held me down.
"Bill told me you might be difficult," he said, breathing hard. "But I wish you wouldn't be quite so difficult."
"Bill," I called out loudly. "Please ... help me."
"He won't help you, my dear. Don't you understand?"
"Understand what?"
"Bill runs this place. I paid him for the use of your ... body."
"I don't believe you," I gasped, fear clutching at my heart.
"Nevertheless, it's true. Why do you think you're here?"
"He saved me from some ... people," I sputtered. "For his own purposes, my dear. Your Bill is one of the big-time operators in the state."
"Operators?"
"Yes. He runs a lot of these places in different cities."
"I don't believe you."
He kept on smiling. "Come now. I'm becoming impatient. I must have you, my dear. Just look at the condition you have me in."
I glanced down at him, saw his rigid cock, drew in my breath slowly and let it out in a rush. "Please," I whispered. "Don't."
"Sorry, my dear. You're much too lovely not to screw."
He flung himself on top of me and I soon realized that he had great strength-it was useless to try to fight him off. He lowered his loins down to mine, yanked my nightgown up around my waist. He grunted as his body touched mine. I shivered, but a wave of excitement passed over me again.
"That's the way, my dear. Don't resist. Well both enjoy it much more if you relax."
I felt his prick probing at me, finding me, entering me. He was very warm and firm ... and I lay there holding my breath as it went deeper into my body.
"Isn't this nice, my dear?" he gasped, his lips close to my ear. "I'll bet you even like it a little."
I didn't answer but closed my eyes as he began to work me. He pulled too far back and contact was broken. "Oh, damn it," he muttered, but then he smiled, too. "I'm so sorry, my dear. You see, my wife has been dead for four years and I'm out of practice."
I could hardly believe my ears. What kind of a remark was this to make? I almost smiled. "That's too bad," I said, somewhat drily. "You should get married again."
He rose and looked down into my eyes. "Is that a proposal, my dear. If. so, I'd be inclined to accept. I must say you're the liveliest young woman I've seen in years."
He bent his head, shoved the nightgown up around my neck, and began to nibble on my breasts. His mouth was very wet and I rather liked it. When he bit me, though, I protested and he apologized. This one was certainly a strange man, but ... nice.
"My goodness," he exclaimed. "I haven't been this hard in a long time. You do very nice things to me, my dear."
"Please," I mumbled.
"Please what? Please stop or please begin again? I'm afraid I don't understand you, my dear."
I bit my lips. What was there to be said? He grunted and lowered himself down to me again and again I felt his hardness entering my body. This time he had some difficulty getting it to penetrate properly but did so, finally. He began to move slowly in me and once he struck a sensitive spot.
"Oh...." I gasped.
"I see you liked that, my dear. I'll try to do the same thing again. I do want you to enjoy it, too, you know."
Where's Bill? Where's Bill? .kept running through my mind.
The man moved faster now but not really fast. I thought he was fearful of breaking contact again and so was being extremely careful with his strokes.
"Sir," I said, it sounding almost ridiculous to address a man screwing me in that manner. "What is it with you? Why did you come here?" It was a foolish question, but I had to ask it.
"Bill called me at my office and told me he had just the girl for me. I got rid of my patients and came right out. Does that answer your question? "
"How much ... does he charge you? For me?"
"I'm afraid I don't care to mention the amount. Considerable, my dear, considerable, but I must say you're worth it."
"Will you please ... get on with it? You're very heavy."
"Oh ... I'm terribly sorry. I should rest my weight on my arm. I'd forgotten about that, you see."
He moved and struck the same sensitive spot again. "How was that, my dear?" he asked when I gasped.
"Good," I said.
"I wonder if you'd help me, my dear?"
"Yes," I said, and was surprised at my eagerness.
"Then put your hands on my buttocks and press down. That will help me to maintain."
"To maintain? What does that mean?"
"You don't have to know that, my dear. Just put your hands on me, please, if you don't mind."
I put my arms around him and pressed down on his buttocks as he moved up and down. His middle was quite large and it was all I could do to reach him there.
"Wonderful, my dear. Now please. Would you kiss the side of my face a little? "
"What for?"
"Because it would please me very much."
I reluctantly kissed the side of his face and when I did so he drew in his breath, pressed his hand down hard on my shoulder and released his breath, all at about the same time.
"Wonderful, my dear. You're very nice to me."
"Please," I said. "Can't you hurry?"
"Oh ... you're beginning to like it a little. Of course I can hurry." He increased the speed of his hips. "Is this more to your liking?"
The sensitive spot had been struck again and I stiffened my entire body. "Yes," I whimpered. "Yes, more, please."
He began to work me in earnest.
"I like that," I told him. "I really do. You're ... so large."
"Thank you, my dear. That's supposed to be a great compliment. I'd rather you said...."
"Said what?"
He grunted. "Nothing, my dear. I-er-find it difficult to talk so much and ... manipulate you at the same time."
"Oh...." I said. "Then ... don't take, sir."
"Call me Doctor," he said, surprisingly. In spite of myself I giggled a little.
"Oh ... I like that. When you giggle you sound like a child. How nice."
"I'm only twenty-one," I blurted for no particular reason.
"Only twenty-one. How wonderful to be twenty-one. You know, I like you very much, my dear."
He had once again struck the spot and I again stiffened my body, thrusting my loins up to meet the battering of his. "Can't you go faster?" I asked, my breathing coming harder now.
"Yes, my dear." He speeded up and it almost drove me crazy with desire. He might be a middle-aged man, but he was ... built. "How's that, young lady?" he asked, gasping the words.
"Wonderful."
"Then be prepared," he gasped. "I can't hold much longer."
"Oh, please ... don't hold back."
"Very well, my dear."
He moved very fast, then I heard him cry out, felt his body jerk violently, felt the release within me. He kept on with it until I had my orgasm-he seemed to know when I had accomplished-and then he moved gradually slower until he had stopped altogether. His body jerked and shuddered and again I felt the release.
He lay on me then for some time, breathing hard and not moving at all except for the chest movement caused by deep breathing. He rose from me, peered down into my eyes and smiled. "I swear, I'd like to take you home with me, my dear."
Somehow, I found the idea to be a nice one. "Would you do that, Doctor? Would you really?"
He sighed. "I'd like to, I really would, but I can't, my dear."
He removed himself from me and I saw he was still rigid. "Why don't you stay here a while?" I asked. "You seem to be ready for more."
He smiled. "I knew you were a passionate one. I could tell right from the beginning. You really liked our little session, didn't you, my dear?"
I moistened my lips. I had completely forgotten about Bill, about his lousy trick in bringing me here for this purpose. One white slaver had stolen me from another and different type of slaver. So what?
"Yes, I did," I told him. "I'm still ... very ... passionate. I wish you would...."
"You wish I would what, my dear?"
"I wish you'd lie back down and do it to me again. I liked it very much."
"Well, aren't you the sweet child," he said, smiling. This man had the nicest smile. "I swear you're the nicest thing I've seen in ages. No wonder they were all fighting to get you.
"Never mind them," I said hotly. "I'd like you ... again."
"But my dear," he protested. "I'm not as young as I used to be."
"You're just fine." I said eagerly. "You were wonderful: You were the best I ever...."
"Oh, my dear, you mustn't say things like that. Besides I ... "
"Yes?"
"I really must get back to my office, you see."
"Please-.. not just yet."
He sighed. "I never saw anyone as passionate as you are, my dear. It simply confounds me."
"Yes, I'm a very passionate girl. I want you to stay here, to love me, to deep with me, all night."
He got off the bed and silently drew on his clothing. I watched him carefully. Somehow I had to get this man to remain with me. I wanted more of him. Then ... well, the future could take care of itself.
"If you'll stay," I said boldly, "I'll do all sorts of nice things to you, for you."
He smiled again, leaned over and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "I swear, you are the nicest thing I've ever known. I'll have to come back and visit you again sometime."
I rose on the bed. "Oh ... you are really going to leave me."
He went to the door, his hand resting on the know. "I have to, my dear, my time is up."
"Please stay."
He shook his head: "The others wouldn't like it if I did."
I looked at him curiously. "What others?"
He smiled. "The front room, my dear, is filled with men, all of them wishing to partake of the same pleasures. I mean you, my sweet, young child."
I stared at him, my heart pounding furiously.
"Good-bye, my dear," he said, and left the room, closing the door softly after him.