The naked young blonde with the over-stacked body hopped off the bed and walked to the door. Her long ponytail swished saucily behind her, its tip barely teasing the sweeping outcurve of her jouncy buttocks.
The 20-year-old redhead just lay there, too exhausted to get up. Her voluptuous body was encased in a tightly-cinched torsolette, a corset-like garment that reached from just beneath her firmly ripe breasts to the middle of her belly. She wore nothing else.
When the nude blonde opened the door, an exotically beautiful young woman draped in a Sari entered the bedroom. Her skin was deep olive, her eyes magnificently radiant as they played across the others in the room.
The three girls gathered quickly around the beautiful young Indian woman. Her dark eyes looked from one to the other. She ran the fingers of her slim hands down the outside of the torsolette that girdled the redhead, giving a delighted shudder when she touched the resilient nakedness of buttocks that puffed out below. She lifted one of the blonde's oversize breasts in the palm of her hand, squeezing it gently with her thumb and forefinger.
But when the tall, long-legged brunette in the black leather boots came up on her, it was obvious which of the three was her favorite. The Indian girl's intense eyes focused on the leather crop that snapped against the boots. Then very slowly, she lifted her gaze up across the fiat plane of the brunette's soft belly, over the excited breasts, and into the sloe brown eyes.
As if in a trance, the Indian girl reached up and pulled the end loop of her Sari from over her left shoulder, and handed it to the tall brunette. It was the invitation highly coveted by each girl in the room. Her pride of conquest showing in each step, the brunette walked away from the native girl, holding the end of the wraparound garment. The thickly draped body began to turn round and round as the loose folds came away.
The deep olive tone of the exotic beauty's flawless skin extended right on down the feminine contours of her smooth shoulders and back. And when the colorful cloth dropped all the way to her waist, the others in the room were fascinated by the rigidly firm little breasts that budded with the nubility of a young nymphet.
The garment bound her waist tightly, but when the last turn was made, the billowing folds that reached all the way to her ankles, dropped to the floor.
The mixed trio on the bed were enjoying the denuding with a double-sensed eroticism now, enmeshed in their own libertine embraces while watching the sensual sight before them.
A smile crossed the face of the Indian girl as she trembled slightly and brought both of her delicate young hands up the sides of her svelte and slim body. The legs were trim and sensuous, flowing beautifully up to the small yet outwardly defined roundness of her buttocks. The waist was naturally cinched to such a degree that the muscleman on the bed could easily get his fingers around it.
The brunette stood almost a foot taller in her high heeled boots. She tapped the leather crop against the side of them in a .steady rhythm, her eyes locked with the look of rapidly building excitement on the Indian girl's face. But instead of using the whip just yet, she walked to the side of the undraped girl, took her gently by the hand, and led her over to join the others on the king size bed.
Suddenly, a door flew open!
A figure of a man was barely discernible for a split second. Then everything exploded into a bright rectangle of white light, and the sound of a steady slap-slap-slap filled the room.
"Hey! What the hell, George?" a man's voice exclaimed with breathless disappointment. "Is that all of the movie... or did the film break?"
The reel on the projector was going round and round, the end of the celluloid film strip slapping against the machine with each revolution, while the brilliant lamp threw a glaring white a patch of light on the wall of the fraternity house rec room.
"That's the end," George told them, threading up the projector to rewind.
"Man... that was enough!" murmured a senior psychology student, lighting a cigarette, "I've seen stag party movies before... but that was the wildest."
"What kind of a cat would let people take movies of them like that?" a serious medical student questioned, filling his pipe. "I've heard they use dope addicts in these things... but these people seemed to have fairly normal reactions."
"Aww, they make 'em in France," a cynical journalism major expounded. "They get a bunch of Pigalle whores... pay 'em a fen francs... get some drunked up pimp to play the guy... and they're in business"
"They don't have doorknobs in France!" a junior art student on the GI program objected.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" the would be journalist frowned.
"The doors in that picture had knobs on them," he stated clearly. "It was made in this country."
"It's just unbelievable." The med student shook his head and frowned seriously.
"It might be for you," George commented, switching off the projector and turning on the lights as the frat house smoker got ready to break up, "But it just so happens that I know every girl in that picture. I've talked to them in that very same apartment."
"You're kidding, George!"
"I don't believe it!"
"Where would you get the dough for high priced stuff like that?"
"Those gals were out of this world... hundred buck a night stuff!"
"You're working your way through law school... and you're trying to make us believe you can afford that?"
"Perhaps you've forgotten what I did last summer." George perched on the edge of the table as the attention centered on him. "I got a vacation job as a law clerk in the office of Goodwin, Goodwin and Goodwin in Washington, D.C."
"Yeah!" The GI student snapped his fingers. "That was the law firm where they had that big scandal. It was in all the papers."
"The part they sent me out to investigate wasn't in the papers... thank God!" He pulled out a cigarette and paused to light it. "But that movie you just saw was intricately involved with the eventual outcome of the whole bloody mess."
"Let's hear about it, George!"
"Right from the start, old frat brother."
"Mind if I make some notes for my psych thesis?"
"Go head." George leaned back against the projector and exhaled slowly as he reminisced to last summer, "Of course I won't use the real names of anyone. But I guess... from what I dug up in about a dozen interviews... the story must have started on a warm Monday evening last July at a real swanky apartment house along Rock Creek Park in Washington... "
CHAPTER TWO
"Of course you can come to see me again, darling. Just be sure to call first the sex-husky voice of Carol Dawson came right through the door of Bunny Brooks' little efficiency apartment at 1:15 A.M.
"You're quite a girl, honey... quite a girl." The man's voice was unfamiliar but sounded mighty good to the sex starved Bunny as she lay alone across the sofa bed too aroused to sleep.
Bunny rolled her naked body over on the white satin bed sheets and purred with an impassioned moan at the silky, slinky feel of the material as it rubbed against her sensitive skin from head to toe. She lay on her stomach and gripped the pillow tightly, working her body over the sheeny sheet faster and faster, her breath coming out in gaspy spurts.
"Damn! I've gotta get hold of myself!" Bunny bounced up from the bed suddenly, a desperate look in her wild eyes as she wrung both hands at her side and walked over to the cabinet in her small kitchenette, "Maybe a drink'll calm me down."
Bunny Brooks' lovely young features were framed nicely in a cascade of deep red hair tossed over either shoulder and reaching down to the pink nippled crests of her breathlessly bountiful shelf of bosom that trembled as she walked. The overwrought expression could not hide the school-girlishly cute turned up nose or the peaches and cream complexion that highlighted Bunny's face.
Backside, her firmly rounded outsize buttocks that wiggled so nicely did what the breasts accomplished for the front view. Her curvy hips blended entrancingly with the full thighs that quivered lightly when she moved.
"Ohh... Gordon, baby!" Her voice beseeched the empty room as she rubbed her excited pelvis against the inanimate coldness of the sink. "When the hell are you ever going to get back from Mexico?"
Her hands were unsteady as she reached up to pull down the bottle of whiskey. Suddenly an idea struck her. The look of frustrated anguish on her face turned to a hopeful smile.
"Why not?" she rationalized aloud, leaving the bottle there as she walked over to open a dresser drawer.
Bunny took out an ultra sexy pair of black lace nylon panty briefs and a frilly French half bra. A hundred sensual memories flooded her excited brain. She remembered how Gordon had put the lace briefs on one night when he was pretty well loaded, how he got such a frantic kick out of parading around in them and dancing with her, how he had begged her to let him wear them home that night and promised to have them on to return to her at his next visit.
Bunny enjoyed the feel of the sheeny nylon as she pulled the briefs slowly up her legs, and wondered if Gordon experienced the same sensations. It was the kind of sensuous lift she got from rolling over and over and squirming around on the satin bedsheets Gordon had bought for her.
The bra felt good, too. The support section came just below her excited nipples which rubbed with a titillating tickle against the lace trim that covered them.
Less than a minute later Bunny had thrown a polished cotton housecoat over her black lace briefs and bra, and was across the hall knocking at Carol Dawson's apartment door.
"Well, darling!" A big smile crossed Carol's full lips when she opened the door. "Do come inside before some evil man comes by and rapes that beautiful body of yours."
"My God, Carol!" Bunny shuddered with delight at the idea, walking in and closing the door. "The way I feel right now, I'd let him I... I'm sorry about busting in on you so late like this. But I heard your friend leave and I thought maybe I could mooch a couple of drinks from you. I'm so fidgety tonight... I can't sleep a wink. And... and I'm all out of booze."
"No word from the boyfriend yet, huh?" Carol worked her tongue around the edge of her lips in a knowing smirk, then strode off toward the kitchen of her one bedroom apartment. "All right, darling... cry on my shoulder if you like. It's a great night to get potted."
Bunny's avid eyes followed the fantastic rear view as Carol walked away from her. She was a real stunner of a brunette in her early twenties. And tonight she wore that almost sheer pair of white short shorts that Bunny had admired before. Topside, a low slung halter trimmed at the top in plush mink fur, left the heaving upper mounds of her oversize breasts on vivid display. Bunny could imagine the feel of its luxuriant tufted softness brushing over the nipples of Carol's lovely breasts with an even greater sensation than the silky lace of her own bra.
A new unease and restlessness set in as Bunny heard the sound of ice cubes being broken out of a tray and water running. She pressed both hands up to her breasts, crushing the lace mesh against them, and felt her heart pounding wildly. She was at once jealous of Carol for having had the satisfaction of sex with the nameless man, but at the same time envious of him, too.
She knew Carol was little more than a high priced whore in spite of her ofttimes haughty bragging about being in so much demand as professional model. Yet, she genuinely adored the woman, admired her freedom and ease, the tall dominance of her build and manner, the fabulous beauty of her long, full body.
Who was Bunny Brooks to be critical of Carol's nocturnal activities? The fact that she had put "Actress" down as her occupation when she rented the apartment was a joke to anyone who knew Washington. This was strictly a government girl and store clerk's town where anybody with ideas for the movies or TV would starve to death both spiritually and financially.
The only real difference with Bunny Brooks' easy virtue was that it was limited to one man: Gordon Goodwin III, the young scion of the politically powerful Goodwin legal clan, the Capitol city's most prominent law firm. And while the young attorney could take his pick from among his social conscious wife, Bunny, or any of a hall dozen other girl friends, he was insanely jealous of any infidelity on the part of his kept mistress.
"Here we go, darling!" Carol padded across the plush beige rug and set down a tray of drinks on the coffee table in front of Bunny. "But I really don't see why you stay so cooped up all the time Gordon's gone. I could fix you up with a perfectly divine man just anytime you get the urge.
"I never, ., never know when Gordon's going to pop in." Bunny bit her lip as Carol leaned over in front of her to set the tray down. "If he ever found out... or discovered me with another man... I think he'd kill me!"
Bunny's eyes showed keen interest at the sight of Carol's plunging breasts which pushed down heavily on the furry halter when she leaned over. There was a clear view through the wide valley of cleavage, a view that went right through the bottom and stopped at the apex of her upper thighs. And Bunny could also tell from this vantage point that each cup of the halter was lined inside with an extension of the plush mink trim.
"Getting an eyeful, dear?" Carol laughed when her eyes met Bunny's as she straightened up. "I could do a strip tease for you."
"Oh, ., I'm terribly sorry, hon," Bunny frowned as she apologized, her fingers twitching nervously. "I was just thinking, ., thinking about the boyfriend you had up here tonight. I really wasn't eavesdropping, Carol, ., but I noticed he lad a real nice voice. Tell me, ., was he good looking? Was he romantic? Did he...?"
"Down, girl!" Carol grinned at the breathless look of expectancy on Bunny's pretty face, and then moved around to plop right beside her on the couch. "You sound as if you want a detailed account of my love life. What are you doing ? Writing a book?"
"No, ., just horny, I guess," Bunny confessed with a nervous laugh, grasping her drink glass tightly. "Gordon's been gone three weeks now."
"Well, dear, ., you could always go back to acting for a living," Carol suggested snidely, raising her glass in mock salute. "Then you could be free and independent again."
"Free and independent!" Bunny laughed bitterly, savoring the strong drink as its warmth flowed into her easily triggered body. "All that starlet contract got me was one walk on in a B movie, and some old baldheaded bed partner six nights week."
"Ah, ha! So you're finally admitting that you're not an actress after all." Carol smiled with amusement as she poured Bunny another drink and eyed her restless body.
"I am an actress!" Bunny jumped to her defense, twisting around to face Carol, her housecoat riding way up the fulsome young thighs to the edge of the black lace briefs. "I played leads in high school dramatics, ., and at the Fremont little Theatre back home. And that producer who signed me up as a starlet was going to give me speaking parts in six movies."
"Oh? What happened?" Carol enjoyed Bunny's vigorous protests, the instant defense of her alleged talent.
"Well... he went bankrupt..." Bunny admitted honestly, well aware she had been taken by the starlet bit, "... and he sold my contract to another studio that just... just wasn't making any movies with my type."
"And what is your type, darling?" Carol made the most of her cruel game, resting the tips of her fingers on the bare knee that was shoved right up beside her on the couch. "Do you do the sweet little schoolgirl type? Or the sexy siren?"
"I'm... more the ingenue type," she replied hesitantly, the whiskey coursing through her veins and magnifying the sensate twinge aroused by Carol's touch, and feeling a growing urge to finger the mink lined halter. "But... to hell with all that. Tell me about the guy you were with tonight? You're so lucky, Carol... so damn lucky to have so many guys."
"Him?" She shrugged complacently, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the couch behind Bunny. "He was just an amateur photographer doing some nudes and pinups of me for his private collection."
"I wish I had a body like yours... " Bunny raked her eyes over Carol enthusiastically.
"You've got the body, honey... all you need to do is get off that leash of Gordon's." Carol stood up and walked over to an end table to open the drawer. "I know plenty of guys who work with color. They'd love that red hair."
"You're not afraid of the competition?" Bunny brazened, breathing heavier as she watched Carol crouch down revealingly in the extra tight shorts.
"There's enough work around for the two of us." Carol stood up, holding a thick photo album that she brought back to the couch. "Besides... plenty of the guys like to do a series with two gals together... uh, splashing in the pool, out in the woods running around... pajama party stuff."
"And after the picture taking... a little nice monkey business, huh?" Bunny enthused with a quick intake of breath. "Tonight, Carol... what did he do tonight when he finished taking pictures?"
Bunny grasped Carol's arm eagerly when she sat back down, her eyes ablaze with anticipation at the forthcoming answer, her mind and body so eagerly attuned for some thrillingly erotic venture.
"What are you trying to do, darling?" Carol smiled, squirming away from her hold in a way that made it only more exciting, her breasts shifting in their cradle of plush mink. "Are you trying to get your kicks by proxy? And didn't you know that prostitution is against the law? Here... calm down and I'll show you some real art, Bunny."
Bunny twisted restlessly, the housecoat working up her thighs. The pictures were the last thing in the world to calm her down. There were dozens of glossy 8 by 10's of Carol: undressing for bed, naked by the swimming poll, in sheer panties and net bras, in spike heel shoes and stockings that came right up to her crotch, in black leather boots and nothing else, doing exercises in the nudes in a variety of revealing positions.
"You must drive the photographers crazy!" Bunny remarked breathily, comparing the photos with the live model next to her and still fascinated by the mink halter. "Your breasts are so... so fabulous, Carol... "
"Dieting and exercise, my sweet." The tall girl winked knowingly, then stood up in front of the enraptured Bunny. "Want a nudist's eye view?"
Bunny could only manage to nod and swallow hard. Her eyes were transfixed to the furry mink halter as Carol loosened it and let the fuzzy softness slide down over her nipples.
"Mmmmm," Carol sighed at the feel, and Bunny was flipping.
Her breasts were huge, but rigid. They set wide apart, yet maintained a full-bodied firmness with the pink tips tilting up just slightly.
"What's the matter, darling?" Carol asked with a sly grin, licking her upper lip back and forth real fast as she cupped both breasts and lifted them higher. "You act like a guy who suddenly found himself loose in the girl's locker room."
"Tonight, Carol... what did the man do after he took the pictures?" Bunny was fumbling with the buttons down the front of her housecoat.
"Do you think I let him go to bed with me like some common whore, darling?" Carol squeezed out both breasts like she really enjoyed the feel of her own hands, the magnificence of her own voluptuous body. "Of course... he was very handsome... very well built and... a... "
"What did he do, Carol? Tell me!" Bunny was boiling over, slapping her fists on her exposed thighs, her whole being about to explode.
"Well... I was naked to start with, from posing for him... " Carol toyed shrewdly with Bunny's limitless imagination.
She reached down to the zipper at the side of her white short shorts, and pulled it open with a teasing slowness. The smile on her face was confident, domineering, a seductive smirk that told Bunny Carol knew exactly what she was doing to her.
But Bunny didn't care. Bunny was too drawn to the tall girl's fantastic body, too wrapped up in the heady aura of sensuality presented by her own lacy lingerie and the idea of the fur lined bra, her eyes too preoccupied with following each new inch of exposed skin when she began to peel the shorts slowly over the expansive hips.
"I guess I should have been a stripper, huh?" Carol rolled her torso in a languid tempo as she worked the shorts over her thighs. "I like to undress for a man. I like to dig the reaction on his face... and see the... "
"But tell me what he did! What did he do, Carol?" Bunny screamed, flinging aside her housecoat.
"Well... first of all... he took off his own clothes in about two seconds flat." Carol's eyes widened appreciatively at Bunny's black lace lingerie and she moved up closer to face her head on.
"Yes... yes?" Bunny begged for more as she slid the panties down over her thighs and squealed at the tickle of the lace that brought goosepimples out in vivid relief on her smooth skin. "And... did he take you... right then?"
Bunny's heart was pounding. Her head was dizzy. She wanted more than the feel of the lacy bra when she pressed it against her breasts and then took if off. She started to reach for the halter Carol had set aside, but the tall brunette smiled at Bunny and grabbed it first.
Carol rolled her hips in a maddeningly slow movement and watched Bunny's avid eyes follow each movement like a tennis spectator keeping up with the ball. She took in each detail of Bunny's trembling body with a detached curiosity. She lifted both breasts again, worked them a moment with her hands, grazed her palms across the raised nipples, then pressed her hands to her side and moved them down to her hips, the furry halter still clutched in her fingers and slapping against her thighs.
Bunny edged forward, her naked buttocks resting on the edge of the couch, her eyes flitting from the natural tuft in front of her to the mink halter Carol held.
"Here, darling... have some fun!" Carol tossed it to Bunny after seeing the effect of her merciless taunts.
"Oh my God, Carol! Oh, my God!" Bunny grabbed it like a drowning sailor going for a lifeline.
Bunny moaned with delirious abandon. She clasped the velvet mink fuzz to her breasts and hunched her shoulders, setting up a rapid movement in them to create motion in her breasts. The nipples skimmed back and forth across the plush fuzz, and Bunny lost herself momentarily in a babble of incoherent words and groans.
"Carol! You must have driven that man out of his mind!" Bunny was beside herself, gripped with a frantic urge to be topped by this tall, domineering beauty, to feel her pressing down the halter even tighter onto her breasts.
"I made him do something else first, darling... something that gets me in the mood for anything... anything at all!"
"It's so beautiful, Carol... you're so beautiful... " Bunny was hypnotized, her head moving in line with the swaying hips, her breasts responding to the soft fuzzy halter she had now hooked on as if it were a part of the black tuft in front of her.
Carol reached up behind her neck and locked both hands together, concentrating all her motion at the hips and pelvis. She watched Bunny's every movement, and when she saw her lunge forward and reach out to grab her around the hips, she took a quick step backward.
"Carol! Carol, honey...!" Bunny screamed, falling to the floor and crawling after her like a baby. "Carol... my God! Carol...!"
"My, my.. you are the oversexed little Lesbian, aren't you, darling?" Her laugh was bitter and cold, yet its very harshness kept Bunny crawling after her.
Carol backed up against the wall, her hips still going, inviting the slavish Bunny, daring her to make the next move. Bunny responded, pushing herself up when she reached Carol, and grabbing hold of both thighs when she got to her knees.
"You... you said you'd do it... do anything if you were kissed like... like this... " Bunny's eyes were glazed, her head swirling with a relentless dizziness as she looked up supplicatingly into Carol's bewitching brown eyes. "I'll do it for you, darling.. I'll drive you crazy doing it!"
"I charge a hundred dollars, sweetheart! Can you afford it?" Carol was brutally businesslike, a condescending smile on her beautiful face as she reached down and held Bunny's head barely an inch away from her. "You practically called me a whore a while ago, darling... remember?"
"And you called me a Lesbian!" Bunny screamed, trying to twist out of her grasp. "So you're a whore, and I'm a Lesbian! So what?"
"So it cost a hundred dollars, darling." Carol teased her with the magic movement of her tufted pelvis, her arm restraining Bunny still.
"I'm... not a Lesbian, Carol," Bunny's protested, her hands reaching up for the mammoth breasts, "I, I just have to do something! I'll go crazy if I can't... "
"One hundred dollars, baby!" Carol demanded, allowing Bunny the play of her breasts for a moment. "A hundred dollars and we'll do it all night... any way you want it, darling. I'm an expert at each one of them."
Anger mixed with passion in Bunny's seared senses. She was being made a complete fool of, humiliated, degraded and laughed at by this high priced whore who had deliberately egged her on to the point of no return.
"Gordon can spare a hundred, Bunny," Carol reasoned heartlessly, hunching her shoulders around in response to Bunny's rabid manipulation of her breasts. "Tell him you had to spend it for booze, or new clothes, or, Goodman, you little bitch!"
Carol sidestepped quickly and knocked her hip against the side of an end table. A lamp tumbled to the floor and so did Carol, sprawling onto the soft carpet.
"If you won't do it to me.. I'll do it to you!" Bunny was on top of her immediately.
Carol flailed her arms. She kicked her legs.
She started to roll over in a attempt to free herself from Bunny's body lock.
"I'll tell Gordon, you bitch! I'll ruin you with him for good!" Carol threatened.
"I don't care, I don't care!" Bunny was too far gone for threats.
She was on top of Carol again, face to face this time and pressing the tall girl to the floor, feeling the yielding mass of breasts that pushed hard against her own and worked the halter back and forth. She was wild, absolutely wild with the new discovery of skin sensitivities and the contact with Carol that brought back creaming memories of another tall brunette in Hollywood.
"Now.. you bitch!" Carol heaved herself free in a sudden spurt of reserve energy and sent Bunny sprawling across the carpet.
Carol was on her knees instantly. She slammed her open palm savagely against Bunny's face, then backhanded her across the other cheek. Bunny felt a strange submission, experienced no real fear or need to scramble away from the repeated blows, but. rather a compulsion to suffer them. She deliberately lay there on the floor while Carol belted her head left and right with the stinging blows.
"Oh, damn ..Carol, darling... Carol, darling ," Bunny kept mumbling in a low whine, her body exhausted, her mind strangely at ease.
"I'll be damned!" Carol cursed as she stood up and looked down at Bunny with frustrated anger, "You clever little bitch! You got your goddam kicks for nothing, after all!"
CHAPTER THREE
When Bunny awoke at noon the next day in her own apartment, she clapped a hand to her head and wondered if it had all been some crazy kind of dream. Then she felt the warm mink of Carol's halter against her erected breasts, gloried a moment in the sensate kick it gave her, smiled with a pleasurable little moan, and knew that it had been no dream.
Her mind vibrated with those tantalizing visions of Carol in the nude, her tall, domineering, taunting personality, even the thrashing she had given her as climax to the maddening whirl of the erotic and exotic adventure.
Bunny lay on her back and cupped both hands up to the halter to move it around. She wondered if Gordon had worn the lace panties to bed with his wife that night he insisted on keeping them on when he left.
Then Bunny frowned as she remembered Carol's demand for money, her refusal to give in to the intimate play of Lesbian love. Carol would never tell, of course, because Bunny knew too much about the nocturnal visits from "photographers." But Bunny was concerned about something else-was she really a Lesbian? A masochist who wanted Carol to beat her? Was she bisexual? A fetishist?
She rolled over with a sensual purr, letting the silky satin sheets caress her smooth skin.
She didn't care what she was anymore.
But a sharp knock on the door destroyed the brief respite of sensual flight.
"Just a minute, please!" she called out, her heart still pumping fast as she reached for her housecoat.
Who could it be? Was it Carol with some sort of apology? Was it Gordon back from Mexico? This idea sounded promising. If it was Gordon he could erase any doubt about her being a Lesbian. And he could also satisfy the inner cravings that even Carol's beating failed to completely dispel last night.
"Afternoon, Miss Brooks. Just come by t'check th'air conditionin'." The leering eyes of Duke Morris appraised her carefully, then his mellow and deep voice inquired as he raised his eyebrows. "Okay to come in? Or ya got comp'ny?"
"No, it's all right, Duke, .come on in." She stepped aside to admit the virile and good looking young maintenance engineer.
Bunny was always self conscious and uneasy in his presence, her body responding immediately to his animal attraction with embarrassing goosepimples, her speech unsteady. She had even dreamed about Duke during the long three weeks Gordon had been away.
Duke Morris exuded the kind of hearty masculine charm that made most women think about just one thing-what it would be like to have him make love to her. His shortcomings, including a mind that bordered on mental retardation, could never detract from his basic physicality. His wavy blonde hair was unkempt, but never unattractive. The muscles in his arms, which were always exposed with the aid of short or rolled sleeves, flexed like resilient sinews of forged steel that would yield only to his control. His face was a ruggedly healthy tanned contrast to the light sandy hair. And his piercing eyes could look right through a girl's clothes, as well as probe the innermost depths of her mind for the slightest tangential thought of sex that lingered there.
"Reckon I'll have to stay a few minutes, Miss Brooks." He was relaxed but not invasive as he plopped into a chair after setting a thermometer out on her coffee. "I'm takin' a readin' in each apartment in the buildin'."
"Would you... some coffee, Duke?" Bunny turned away from his look.
"Reckon I got coffee a comin' outta m'ears by now." Duke yawned, his eyes following her fidgety movements as she futzed in the kitchenette. "Drank three whole cups over t'Miss Dawson's jus' now."
"You... you've been to Carol's this morning?" Bunny could have kicked herself for blurting it out this way. "How, how is she today?"
"Had a kinda wild time las' night, ha ha," he laughed, running his fingers through the disarray of blonde hair: "How do you know? I mean... did she tell you that?" Bunny turned to face him, trying desperately to keep the fear and shame from her face.
"Whole place was a mess... lamps busted... table knocked over," he shrugged, yet had that look of pure clairvoyance in his knowing eyes. "Guess she musta had a fight with the boyfriend."
"Oh... I see." Bunny breathed easier, but her fingers and body still twitched. "Well... I could offer you some whiskey."
"Now, you're talkin'! Duke stood up and advanced toward her. "You show me where it is an' I'll fix m'own."
"Right... up there." Bunny flushed as he brushed against her by the sink.
Her head was dizzy again. The halter grazed over her nipples with its sensate cushy feel as she held up her arm to point out the shelf, then brought it back down to her side. She shuddered all over, shook her head, then watched Duke as he got down the bottle. Her body was on fire from head to toe. How could she be a Lesbian when Duke affected her like this? Or was it the furry halter "I'll take a shot, too, Duke." Bunny was feeling braver now, tossing back her long locks of bright red hair and holding out a glass. "I'm in the mood for something... oh, something different today."
"Ever try any... that there French stuff... Cognac?" He built her up deliberately it seemed, and was concealing his amusement over toying so successfully with her emotions.
"I don't think there's anything I haven't tried, Duke. How about you?" The whiskey warmed her immediately, filled her with new confidence and daring as it slaked down her throat and eased the shakiness.
"I had two years Army time in Japan, Miss Brooks." His words lingered as his eyes bore straight into hers. "Ask any GI's been there. There ain't nothin' a man don't know after them Jap gals."
"I thought... we were talking about something to drink." She tried to play it coy right back at him. "I guess you drank Sake,, and that Japanese rice beer while you were there?"
"Sure... gallons of 'em." He dropped the dig, but his eyes lay her thoughts as bare as they did her body. "But gimme good ol' American bourbon anytime."
He picked up the bottle to refill her glass, moving closer as he did so. They faced each other, their sides resting against the sink.
"Thank you, Duke." Bunny tensed herself as he almost touched her. "Fill, fill it up this time... all the way to the top.. okay?"
"Sure thing, Miss Brooks." He smiled with a wry twist to his rapacious lips, inching closer.
And then she felt him! A sensation shot through every girl's apartment at the Parkview Towers. She saw him most clearly in bed with Carol, pumping his muscular body down on her until she creamed with unburdened joy at the crowning fulfillment of his masculine mastery.
"Kiss me, kiss me, Duke, " She closed her eyes and pushed her face toward his, her tongue licking her own parted lips to wet them for him.
But his mouth was cold, firm, totally unresponsive at first. This challenged Bunny, only made her want him more, increased her desperate urge to be taken violently by the power packed body of this muscular Goliath. She lapped with her tongue, bathing his lips and feeling for the innermost roots of his mouth. Her pelvis pressed in tight against his undeniable manliness. Hoe moved around until his back against the sink. She followed him eagerly, her hands wrapped around his big chest, her arms squeezing, her nips banging against him.
"Goddam, you got hot pants, baby! Whew!" Duke chuckled as her tongue washed off his Adam's apple and went down the hairy front of his open shirt.
"Take me! Take me, Duke!" she hissed, then sucked in her breath as she breath as she tore off the housecoat.
"Nice., nice, baby!" Dukes eyes savored every inch of the firm thighs and hips, the contracting belly, until they stopped curiously at the furry halter. "Hey where'd ya get that at? Come on... le's see whatcha got unnerneath... "
"No! Please... leave it on, Duke... here, I'll show you... " She pulled back a few inches and yanked the halter down to let the breasts plunge out. "Let me keep it on, Duke... I like it... "
He leaned back against the sink and watched her whole body shudder when she pulled the soft fur cups back over her breasts, watched the rapture in her eyes when they skimmed her raised nipples.
"Duke, darling... oh, precious Duke!" Bunny kneeled down suddenly and found his zipper quickly, "It... it's like a dream, Duke! A great big marvelous dream! I've never, never seen a man like you, Duke!"
His body tightened as the warm lips closed, her mouth working and taking. He mussed the soft strands of vivid red hair with his rough hands. He looked down at the bobbing movement, and on to the top of the breasts as they rocked freely in the cradling soft mink.
Suddenly he jerked her away, yanking the long red hair until her pained face flushed with agonized frustration. It was the same bittersweet hurt of denial she had experienced from Carol the night before.
"That rich lawyer o' yours'd kill us both if he walked in right now, baby." Duke shook his head from side to side with genuine regret, adding, "I could go all day an' night with a broad like you, Miss Brooks. But I aim t'keep m'head."
"How... how did you know about Gordon?" Bunny went into a fit of sudden fear, wondering suddenly if Duke might have been put up to this to test her fidelity. "How did you know, Duke?"
"Three years at this place... workin' days one week... nights the next," he explained with cold logic, holding her away from him in a steel grip, "There ain't nothin' goes on in this buildin' I don' know 'bout."
"But you wouldn't ..wouldn't tell him?" Her eyes were filled with terror, her body and brain teetering on the dizzy brink of fragmented emotions.
"I'll never tell nobody. Miss Brooks... least ways nobody'd do ya no harm." Duke let her know it was his ace card, his eyes roaming her body with renewed interest. "But if'n you ever get rid a that lawyer fella... I'll show you some things 'bout lovin' no rich boy ever learned ya."
"Oh, Duke!" Her body flamed anew when his eyes went up and down her body with naked lust. "Show me now! I don't care what you do to me! I'm a furnace, darling... I'm burning up!"
"You really like that, don't ya, baby?" He watched Bunny lick her lips as she dropped her eyes again.
"I love it, Duke really love it!" She struggled to get closer, but his big arms restrained her.
"Huhhuh... I'll bet you'd cry it, baby... promise ol' Duke the moon, wouldn' ya? He teased her with a sense of manly pride, then pushed her away just short of her goal.
"I'll do anything, Duke! Anything!" she screamed long and loud, twisting and writhing her tortured body. "I'll pay you, Duke... pay you for it!"
"Really want it... huhhuh." He laughed maniacally, then snarled lustfully.
"Goddam you, Duke! I want it... now!" Her shriek rent the room with its volume and she beat against his stomach with both hands.
"Miss Brooks! Miss Brooks! What's wrong in there?" an authoritative female voice demanded from outside.
"Good gosh! It's... Miz Kirby!" Duke exclaimed with a look of dazed shock, releasing Bunny immediately.
"The resident manager?" Bunny stood there dismayed, her eyes frantic. "Quick... hide in the closet!."
But it was too late. The resident manager had already unlocked the door with her master key and slammed it shut behind her.
No one said a word for several seconds. Mrs. Louella Kirby, a tall handsome woman with silver blonde hair and an overabundance of solid curving body looked sternly from one to the other. The forty year old widow's sharp eyes darted from the almost nude Bunny to the exposed building engineer.
"Miz Kirby... I," Duke tried to talk through his trembling fright, his big face cowering under the steely eyed gaze.
"If I call the police, Duke, you could be sent to the electric chair for what you've just done!" She stood her ground staunchly, hands on her big hips as she spoke to him with the authority of a Dutch aunt. "The maid heard Miss Brooks screaming and called me."
"It, it isn't exactly like it looks, Mrs. Kirby." Bunny's protest seemed ludicrous under the circumstances. "He... he was... "
"My poor sweet girl! You're in a state of shock!" The big woman strode to Bunny's side with a sudden outburst of affection, picking up the ripped housecoat Bunny had torn and draping it over her. "He must have just been terrifying to you, my dear! We should really call the police immediately."
"No, please!" Bunny gathered enough sense to realize this could ruin her with Gordon if it ever got out. "I... I'll just forget about it... the publicity would just kill my poor mother."
"But the evidence is all here," Mrs. Kirby tried to reason, leading her over to the open sofa bed and sitting beside her. "I saw what was going on when I entered the room. And your clothes... he must have ripped them right off your body. Duke should pay the penalty. This is serious."
"I, I was drunk, Mrs. Kirby... I may have said something, or made him think... " She choked on the tangle of dizzying emotions that made her want to crawl in a hole somewhere or take a flying leap through the window to oblivion.
"She ain't makin' no complaint, Miz Kirby."
Duke seemed full of confidence. "An' if she don't say nothin', there ain't no case."
"I'll talk to you in my office!" She stood up and pointed toward the door. "Now... get out!"
"Yes'm." He nodded his head, grinned, and left. "I, I don't know what to say, Mrs. Kirby," Bunny sobbed as she lay face down on the bed.
"You just be still, you poor child." The woman tried to quiet her, taking full strides into the bathroom. "I'll get a damp rag to put on your face. And a drink of whiskey too. We'll have you feeling better in no time. And then, if you want to call a doctor, I'll have the house physician... "
The woman rattled on and Bunny felt a strange new ease come over her restless mind and body. She had always liked Mrs. Kirby, admired the smiling, kindly, attractive face of the handsome woman, held her up as some kind of replacement symbol for the strict disciplinarian her mother was. And now she was fussing over her like a doting parent or close girlfriend. And she was an ally in other ways too She had not called the police when Bunny begged her not to. Of course the police would have brought scandal on the apartment house too, and Mrs. Kirby wouldn't want that. But Bunny liked to feel it was something more personal, like a transfused sympathy from woman to woman, an understanding of the humiliation and heartbreak a girl could suffer... even if Duke had been guilty.
"Drink this now, Bunny... you don't mind if I call you Bunny, do you?" Mrs. Kirby's hands were soft and comforting as they placed the damp rag on her forehead and tilted her up to a sitting position to drink the whiskey.
"You're so very... very nice to me, Mrs. Kirby," Bunny smiled warmly as she lay back down.
"And I'm Louella, dear." She looked into Bunny's eyes with simple affection. "Let me put this glass back over in the sink, and then I'll rub your back some. Those kinks are pretty hard to get out after an experience like that."
"All right... Louella." There was a cozy feel to the woman's name when she said it, and Bunny snuggled down into the silky feel of the rumpled satin sheets with a soft sigh as she watched Louella walk over to put the glass away.
She noticed how nicely the big woman was dressed today. A stylish pair of high heel pumps replaced the matronly oxfords she wore so often. They gave her legs a solid fullness, a pleasing shapeliness that the other shoes never brought out. The dress was cinched tightly about her waist and billowed out over the big mounds of hips and buttocks in a continual round of box pleats. The bodice, by contrast, fit snugly around her bosom, like a large sling for the mammoth breasts that were steadied by what must be a very tight bra.
"All right, my dear." The bed sagged under Louella's weight as she sat down and placed both palms on Bunny's shoulders. "You just close those eyes and relax wile Louella gives you a nice massage."
Bunny's body began to tingle as the woman's artful hands unsnapped the halter and started to knead her shoulders expertly. At the same time it was a kind of relaxed exhilaration she felt. The shock of being discovered in her frustratingly humiliating scene with Duke had already eased away with the unusually understanding nature of Louella. But the feelings that tugged so warmly now inside her sensual body seemed to hold out a new hope, some new idea that had not fully registered in Bunny's easily disoriented mind.
"That feels so good, Mrs... Louella." Bunny laughed gaily at her own fluff as she felt her shoulders relaxing under the massaging pressure.
"Let's get down the back here a little now." Louella moved her hands down Bunny's spine like an expert.
"You're better than one of those real Swedish masseuses," Bunny complimented as the woman's fingers worked just below her armpits, the thumbs pressing and caressing her back.
"My first husband and I had a massage parlor in New York, Bunny," Louella told her, manipulating her hands further down, "But it's been a long time since I practiced it professionally."
"Mmmm," Bunny let out a languorous moan, shifting her shoulders to enjoy the feel of the fur cups still under her breasts. "I'll bet you were terrific."
"My husband was very jealous of my men patients, the poor dear," Louella reminisced with a little laugh, then turned serious a moment. "The unfortunate man actually lost his mind with that silly jealousy. He killed himself by jumping out of the window of our tenth floor studio."
"Oh... I'm sorry... "
"Don't be sorry!" Louella laughed, slapping Bunny playfully on the buttocks. I wasn't. I married Mr. Kirby, one of my patients. His daughter and the stepson my first husband left me got along beautifully. They were just wonderful children to raise... particularly since I could never have any of my own."
Bunny was unable to concentrate on Louella's patter. The woman had the palms of her hands on each cheek of the buttocks now and was kneading them in a slow, tingling motion that gave movement to her whole body as well as the springy bed. Bunny's pelvis would push down hard on the rumpled satin sheets, and the feeling it elicited sent her charged body skyrocketing-the feel of those wonderful hands on her hips, the titillation of contact each time she pressed down and squirmed her naked skin on the silky folds of cloth.
"Are you still married?" Bunny found herself overly curious, the question coming spontaneously.
"Mr. Kirby my second husband died a few years ago., in a mental hospital." There was still no regret in her voice. "He was the insanely jealous type too, poor man. But I've managed to get by. And both of my stepchildren are on their own. The girl was married a while, but didn't like it. The boy will probably always be a bachelor. But he has a nice job."
"Ooh... that feels so good... ," Bunny sighed when Louella's hands worked down to the backs of her upper thighs.
The pressure of the hands kept Bunny's body going against the exhilarating lushness of the satin sheets in a steady, scintillating beat. But now Louella was using her fingers more. They spread out as she moved farther down on the bed by Bunny. They pulled the full thighs apart at the top. The thumbs probed at the under crease of her buttocks, worked gently toward the crevasse between them, then back out.
"Well.. I guess that should just about do it!" Louella stopped suddenly and slapped Bunny's backside gently again.
Her body was ablaze. Her mind was in an upheaval. Was this just the friendly apartment house manager being motherly to a young girl in trouble? Comforting her like she might her own child? Bunny dared not let her passionate imagination go too far again and cause the third disaster in the same day.
"Are you quite sure Duke didn't hurt you, my dear?" Louella asked, keeping her seat near the bed's foot.
"No... I don't think so." Bunny was not sure just how to respond as she opened her eyes and looked down at Louella. "He didn't really... "
Bunny gulped and swallowed hard. Louella was seated at the foot of the bed facing her. The billowing skirt was just above her knees. The big solid legs were spread slightly apart. Bunny was fascinated, her eyes probing like a man's to determine just how much she could see. The view from this angle went well above the tops of Louella's nylons which were held up by long thick garters with black lace snaps. Bunny bit her lip.
"Turn over, my dear, and I'll cover you up with this top sheet." Louella reached down just beneath Bunny's thighs to pull out the satin covering. "Mmmmmm,... what lovely sheets you have."
Louella's eyes sparkled as she rubbed the sheeny fabric back and forth between her fingers. She moaned softly again, and gestured to Bunny to turn over and lay on her back.
"I can't say that I blame Duke for finding you attractive, by dear." There was an admiringly warm smile on Louella's attractive face as her eyes drifted over Bunny's total nakedness and she rubbed the satin sheet along the thigh right beside her. "And I hope you're not just foolishly trying to protect him by telling me he didn't hurt you. Something like that can ruin a young girl physically if it's not tended to properly."
"No, he didn't... " Bunny tried to talk, but choked again in the mire of passion that engulfed her.
Before she fully realized it, Louella had spread both her legs apart, one hand on each thigh. Bunny looked into the woman's eyes, seeing both clinical curiosity and something more personal. But she could not be sure. It could be that her own highly active mind was merely seeing what it wanted to see.
Disguising the gesture as foolish modesty, Bunny reached for the mink halter which had fallen aside, and placed the fur cups over her breasts.
"I think I'd better check you, Bunny." Luella's voice was controlled but breathy, her words logical yet leading. "You just stay real still, my dear. After all, I'm quite used to seeing women naked."
"Yes, maybe you'd better.. check me.." Bunny relaxed her legs and spread them further apart.
Her body pulsed helplessly in a single twitch when she felt the woman's fingers on her. She closed both eyes and tried to stifle a low moan that came from deep inside her. She felt the fingers glide effortlessly and build her up to such a state it was all she could do to keep from screaming. Her nipples erected to maximum rise under the mink lined cups and grazed the fur deliciously with each breath.
No... you seem quite all right, my dear,... almost a virgin." Louella's voice was softer, her touch more intimate, her breathing heavier. "But he must have made you terribly aroused, Bunny. Even now your condition is that of a very passionate girl."
"Mrs. Kir... I mean-Louella. .," Bunny was panting, her hips moving in response to the fondling fingers, "Louella... I... "
"Yes, my darling?"
Bunny gave a start when she realized the voice was closer, felt the bed lift and then depress again.
"Nothing... Bunny clenched both fists at her sides.
"Don't be embarrassed, Bunny. I'm a woman too. "Louella's hot breath pricked at her twisting belly. "I know how you must feel. You found Duke a very exciting man. But with your strength of character, your faithfulness to your boyfriend... you wouldn't dare let him invade your precious young body with his carnal lust."
"Yes., yes., ," Bunny groaned, working her pelvis faster.
"But there's nothing wrong with this, is there?" she rationalized, her speech quickening with the pace of their activity. I'm a woman... just another woman who understands and wants to help, Bunny."
"Yes... nothing wrong," she mumbled breathlessly, then remembered Gordon and his precipitate, unannounced visits, "But my... my boyfriend, he has a key... he might... "
"Don't worry, my darling,." Her voice was at once both soothing and exciting. "By the time he could unlock the door... all he would see is a perfectly nice lady trying to be helpful to one of her tenants who was feeling bad. Tell me, darling.. do you like what I'm doing?."
"I love it! Bunny let go now, arching her tips to increase the pressure. "I think... think I'm going to... to... "
"You're so lovely, my dear." Louella's hot breath was right on top of her. "I love your red hair... so vivid and natural. Mmmmm... "
"Louella! Oh, Louella!" Bunny tried to stifle her screams as she felt the liquid ring of fire from Louella's lips.
"My sweet, sweet little girl!" Louella sprung from her crouch suddenly and stood at the side of the bed, her face an indescribable picture of joy, "I simply must., really take you., , like a man!"
"No! Don't stop" Bunny begged in delirious abandon, replacing the woman's caress with her own fingers. "Please ..if you take your clothes off., Gordon might... "
"I don't need to take them off, darling. See?" Louella caught her breath as she talked, yanking the dress all the way to her bosom.
"Louella! What ..what a body you've got!" Bunny gasped her eyes widening.
Except for the two pairs of long thick garters that came down from a girdling support bra at her waist, Louella was naked all the way down to the nylons at mid-thigh. Her legs were long and magnificently full, the thighs embellished excitingly with the frilly swatches of black lace that trimmed each garter snap. Her buttocks was tremendous, but solid and smooth. Her whole body in fact was in ideal proportion, the same shapeliness as an overdeveloped calendar girl's.
"Ohh, Louella!" Bunny yelled with an electric charge of joyous feeling when they met.
The lacy snaps rubbed her thighs. The halter played across her breasts with a gentle crush as Louella concentrated her pressure below.
"Like it, my sweet?"
"Love it... love it., love it, Louella!" Bunny rolled her head from side to side in languorous joy. "You're as good ohhhhh... as good as a man!"
"Would you rather I was a man?"
"No! No, Louella... I want you! You! I wish you could take all your clothes off!"
"My breasts are so big, darling... maybe... you won't like them... "
"I'll love them... I'll love every bit of you, Louella!"
"Will you come to see me... in my apartment?"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
"We'll do everything next time then... "
"Everything!"
"And we won't have to worry about Gordon."
"No, Louella... just you and me. Oh! Oh, darling,... I'm going to... "
"And my stepson, Bunny, you'll like him."
"If you say so... but what... what about you...?"
"I'll watch, darling! I'll watch!"
"Oh! Oh! Now, Louella! Nowwww.
"You sweet little girl! Oh, you sweet little thing! You sweet, precious babeeeee!"
"Were there any calls while I was out?" Louella Kirby's face was still flushed as she walked briskly by the switchboard fifteen minutes later.
"A Miss Shelton called about an apartment," the PBX girl told her, handing over a small piece of note paper, "I told her we might have a vacancy on the fourth floor, .an efficiency. She'll call you back."
Where does she work" Louella was businesslike as she studied the paper, then tucked it in the breasts pocket of her dress.
"She's new in town." The operator made it quick as two buttons lit up on her board. "She's probably one of those kids looking for a government job. But she sounded real nice."
Louella nodded, smoothed down the front of her wrinkled skirt, and walked into her office.
"Hey! Hey, Mom; Duke Morris got up from his seat excitedly and grasped her by the arms when she closed the door. "Did she go for it okay? Was she real cream puff? Did you...?"
"She was delicious, darling!" Louella smiled broadly and kissed him on the cheek, "Now, you run along, my child, and finish your work."
"I done okay, huh? You gonna fix me up too, huh? His bugging eyes followed her slavishly around the room as she walked to her desk. "You gonna gimme my massage now, huh?"
"Later, Duke." she favored him with a smile as she sat down. "But you did very well with Miss Brooks. And let's see tomorrow is Wednesday. I'll see if I can't have her up to the apartment for you sometime in the morning. I shouldn't be too busy then."
"Gee... thanks, Mom! he grinned sheepishly, then made for the door. "That's gonna be real great! Oh boy!"
CHAPTER FOUR
The bar at Mexico City's Cafe Nacional on the picturesque Paseo de la Reforma was going full blast at I: AM Wednesday morning. Attractive senoritas in tightly molded sheaths eyed group of wealthy American tourist and businessmen hungrily. But this was not the kind of place where a girl accosted a man. They would have to wait for an invitation before joining in conversation or having a drink bought for them.
"So's like I been tellin ya, ol' buddy... my good "Merican comrade," Gordon Goodwin III hiccupped loudly as he weaved drunkenly and spoke in confidential tones to the American he had met earlier in the evening,."... I'm takin' care a the firm's business while I'm down here... an' gettin' a quickie Mexican divorce at the same time."
"You're lucky your wife will agree to it." The other man nodded his head with a certain admiration.
"Damn bitch better agree to it," Gordon smirked, sloshing his glass of tequila around, then taking a noisy slurp of the amber liquid.
Except for his current lack of sobriety, Gordon Goodwin III was every bit the picture of the successful Washington lawyer. He was a tall, distinguished, good looking man in his early thirties. His suit was an impeccably tailored sharkskin in a pale summer blue. His white shirt was set off by a perfectly knotted tie in solid crimson. His face was angular and slim, but with the same healthy leanness of his tall tanned body. His brown curly hair came well down on the forehead and gave him a perennially youthful look.
"And you're going to marry that little doll of a redhead you showed me the picture of, huh? the stranger recalled the luscious wallet photo of Bunny Brooks in a bikini that Gordon had displayed proudly earlier.
"That's right, ol' buddy. Only she doesn't even know it yet. Gonna surprise the little sweetheart when I come home a single man," Gordon swilled again from his glass of Tequila, "The little sweetheart doesn' even know I'm gettin' a divorce. How's that grab ya?"
A passing waiter stooped down behind Gordon's stool and picked up a white envelope from the floor. He started to ask the American if he had dropped it, but then shrugged his shoulders and stuffed it inside his own jacket when he saw how engrossed the two men were in conversation.
"I guess it would be futile to ask if you were interested in scouting around for some of his this wild Mexican stuff tonight," the other American grinned at Gordon as he finished off his drink. "I found a place just off Hidalgo Avenue the other night that's way out fifteen year old gals, Lessies, beautiful young women in all kinds of costumes if you go for the unusual and all for the price of a good steak dinner back home."
"Sounds good, my fren'," Gordon grinned, but shook his head negatively, "But I been cattin' aroun' all my married life 'cause the ol' lady's 'bout's much in'erested in sex as I am in one of her goddam kaffee klatsches. But Bunny? Bunny's' a kind a gal I been lookin' for all m'life... worth savin' it for."
"Well... in case you ever want to see how really way out these Mexican babes can go, drop down to Hidalgo Avenue some night." The stranger slid off the stool and shook hands with Gordon, "Can I give you a lift?"
"No... no thanks, ol' buddy. Got my rented car jus' outside," Gordon burped loudly and dug for his wallet to leave a tip. "Guess I better hit the sack an' dream about that little sweetheart up in Washington. Jus' three more days here an' I'll be a free man."
Gordon fumbled around in his pockets after the man waved goodbye. He remembered the envelope he had set out to take by the cable office earlier. But it was gone now.
"Aw hell," he mumbled to himself as he shrugged his shoulders and headed out the door, "I mussa sent the damn thing'n forgot all 'bout it... damn Mex'can booze is strong stuff... whew... strong stuff... "
Jose Namrutz watched Gordon leave through the tiny window in the swinging door from the kitchen, then reached into his waiter's jacket and took out the white envelope.
"Dios Mio! he gasped, his eyes bugging open wide.
His gnarled hands trembled as he counted the money, five hundred American dollars!
Quickly, he pocketed the sheaf of bills, then scanned over the massage which had been hand printed on a Telegraphic Money Order from:
MISS BUNNY BROOKS
PARKVIEW TOWERS APARTMENTS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SEE YOU IN A WEEK. BIG SUR-
PRISE THEN HERE'S THE FIVE
HUNDRED PROMISED IF I WASN'T
BACK BY TODAY.
LOVE. YOU KNOW WHO
"Filthy rich Gringo!" Jose Namrutz spat contemptuously to salve his conscience, then struck a match to the envelope and the message.
"South of the border... down Mexico wayyay," Gordon clobbered the melody to the old song as he stabbed at the lock to his hotel room door with the key, "Sombitch won' fit. Better go wake up that boy sleepin downstairs... "
He made several more tries at the lock as he remembered what his American acquaintance had said about the girls down on Hidalgo Avenue. The idea became more intriguing as he thought it over. Last year when he had been here on business, that was the first place he headed. He remembered the young twins who had done anything and everything with their lush and lithe little bodies, the Lesbian tricks, the glove and boot act, both of them dressed up like nuns, the triangle bit on a king sized bed...
"T'hell with it," He quit trying to get the un cooperative key in the door and made up his mind in favor of Hidalgo Avenue.
"Hello, Gordon! Surprise!"
"Jeanette! Goddam! What the hell!" He was barely able to talk, his mouth hung open, he sobered instantly at the sight of his wife walking down the hall toward him.
"I arrived in town this afternoon, my dear husband," she announced with a domineering swell of her big breasted chest, taking the key from his hand and unlocking the door with disgusting ease, "I've been waiting outside in a cab for hours an followed you up past the sleeping desk clerk downstairs."
"But., but why?" Gordon followed her into the room, dumbfounded, and closed the door.
"It's quite proper, really." She stood there haughtily with hands on hips silently chiding his late drinking. "I am your wife, Gordon."
Jeanette Goodwin just stood there and looked at her husband with mild contempt. She was a singularly striking woman with a regal carriage. Her dark brown hair was streaked in front with two stylish swatches of blonde and coiffed up into a fashionably perfect high roll. Her long slim body with the oversize breasts and small rounded hips, was sheathed in an off shoulder Paris import that made the huge mounds puff out over the decollete' top and display a vast amount of deep cleavage. Below, it hugged tight to the little curve of buttocks, breathed right along with her very slight belly as it clung like a second skin to outline the long thighs in clear definition.
But the sleek, feminine outfit didn't seem to fit the domineering face and manner of the socially proper society woman who wore it.
"I have come to contest the divorce!" she finally answered Gordon's question after watching him stand and fidget restlessly for several moments.
"You... you goddam bitch!" he snarled, flinging a fresh cigarette to the floor before lighting it, "I could kill you, Jeanette! Kill you!"
"I won't ever admit that I was anything but a perfect wife to you in every way. Gordon." She ignored his raving completely and fed a king size filter cigarette into a long holder very calmly. "But my psychiatrist has suggested that I might cater more to some of you rather... basic desires. So I have decided to make some sacrifice in that line to keep both our respected family names unblemished by scandal."
"Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha!" Gordon went into a fit of bitterly uproarious laughter, dropping into a chair as he looked at her through blearily watered eyes. "What are you going to do, Jeanette? Give up the Tuesday Tea TeteaTete and schedule one hour for quote, Intercourse With Husband, unquote? Maybe you could squeeze me in between the Saddle Club Out sign and the morning kaffee klatch."
Dr. Junghauser says I'm quite a physically attractive woman, Gordon!" She turned to face him as if the fact a man had spoken so intimately to her might shock him. "He even said by breasts were of the size and configuration most men find extremely stimulating."
"Then let Dr. Junghauser go to bed with you!" Gordon spat the words, getting rid of some tobacco crumbs at the same time after he lit another cigarette.
"I took my measurements last week, Gordon. They are the same as when we were first married." She puffed out her breasts with pride and held the long cigarette holder at her hip in that cocktail party gesture Gordon detested. "You used to find my body desirable... practically raped me before the wedding you were so eager to unleash your animal lust on my virginity. How can you act so disinterested now?"
"Because it's dead now, Jeanette! You've killed it!" Gordon was confused and angry, attracted by the sudden brazenness of her sensual display, repulsed by the snotty, haughty demeanor he knew so well. "The most beautiful girl in the world can become sexless after you really get to know her... if she's got a personally like yours."
"But I'm wiling to change all that I told you." She knelt by the arm of the chair as he sat back own. "I've been reading some books about various sex practices that Dr. Junghauser suggested, and I find that some of the ideas it mentions are not without a certain intrigue for me. There's one thing in particular that interests me... where the woman squats down and... "
"I suggest you try it with Dr. Junghauser," Gordon snapped, looking away as he pulled a bottle of brandy from the drawer and took a long drink.
"This attitude will do you no good, Gordon!" She stood up and stomped her foot impatiently while rubbing her hand along the tight skirted left thigh. "I am going to contest the divorce and save our reputations. No one even knows that I came down here, Gordon. So no one can say that I was running after you. I simply told our friends that I was going to Rehobeth Beach for a few days, and I used poor dear Charlotte's old driver's license as identification to enter Mexico."
"Charlotte's? The maid we used to have who died?"
"Yes... she had no family, and I had stored away all her personal effects." Jeanette poured herself a glass of the brandy and downed it with a vengeance. "I planned this trip to be entirely incognito so as not to humiliate myself anymore than necessary... unless, of course, you prove foolish enough to actually take the thing to court and force me to contest it openly."
Gordon took the bottle of brandy from her and raised to his lips for a healthy swig. An idea had just presented itself, a kind of crazy idea that he was refusing to accept right now. She was right about the divorce, of course. He had no grounds. It has to be by mutual consent. And if she withdrew that consent and contested his action in open court... he might as well pack up and go home now.
"Gordon! I want you to make love to me!" Jeanette announced suddenly with clinical intensity, unzipping the side of her dress, "I have purchased some very daring lingerie that should help inspire your ravenous libido, and... "
"Ha, ha ha! Ha, ha, ha!" Gordon bellowed out laughing again, taking the bottle with him as he plopped down in the chair and swung a leg over the side, "If I wasn't actually seeing this, Jeanette, I wouldn't believe it. I think you're really serious."
Jeanette stepped out of her dress and folded it carefully before laying it aside. The oversize breasts were underslung in a Frenchy demibra that didn't quite cover the virginally small nipples. A white nylon lace bikini brief shrugged her rounded little rear tightly. A slim line garter belt supported an expensive pair of black silk stockings that came just a few inches up her long thighs from the knee. "Is your... your... you know what I mean, Gordon?" she asked with ludicrous sincerity, "... is it becoming aroused?"
"Ha, ha! Keep it up, baby! I haven't laughed so much since we were engaged" He forced himself to remain angry, though her sudden brazenness and wanton display gnawed at his sensitive masculine emotions.
"Ah, yes! The breasts! They should be completely exposed to your view." She lowered her voice as she removed the bra and swelled up her chest until the little nipples crowing the huge globes tilted up toward the ceiling. "Dr. Junghauser says the breasts are very important... an erogenous symbol for the male."
"Go to hell, Jeanette!" Gordon looked away as the long fleshy thighs came up on him, the lengthy garters expanding and giving as she walked. "That's the oldest trick in the booka potential divorcee seducing her husband to foul up the deal on noncohabitation."
"But we're not getting a divorce, Gordon," she proclaimed calmly, snapping the long garters against her thighs, "I'm not going to let you get the divorce so you might as well give in and enjoy me in a way which you've never had the opportunity to do before."
"Gordon's eyes were transfixed to the lacy white nylon briefs as she pulled them down over her naked hips and thighs. Her fingers twitched and rubbed against each other as he remembered a time with Bunny several weeks ago when he had jokingly slipped on a similar frilly undergarment. He could almost feel the silky softness against his legs, the tight sheeny fabric clinging to his hips with the tickling tease of the lace trim.
"Stop it Jeanette!" Gordon jumped up and grabbed her by the shoulders as she stepped out the briefs and tossed them on the bed, "How do you think I used to feel every time I watched you undress and you were too tired or too busy to do anything but laugh at me and push me away? Well... I hope you really want it now, Jeannette! I hope you're suffering like I did! I guess there must be some of the sadist in me... I want you to suffer, Jeanette! I want you to!"
She fell back on the bed when he released her and spread eagled her stockinged legs invitingly. Little beads of sweat glistened across the smooth plane of her belly, and she arched the little hips upward in slow strokes.
"Gordon! I'm exceedingly passionate!" Jeanette's hands snaked rapidly up and down her sweaty sides, pausing to snap the garters against her twisting thighs and hips, her legs yawning widely. "If you will undress, Gordon... I shall consent to kiss you... anywhere! I read about it in the book my analyst gave me... how a wife can excite her husband in the most intimate way... "
"You really mean it, don't you?" he grinned down at her, hiding the tenseness that gripped him now as he tried to concentrate his view on the huge breasts that plunged from side to side as she moved.
"I... think I'll do something drastic if you don't kneel down here and let me do it, Gordon!" Her breath came in short puffs while her right hand moved down her belly below the slim line garter belt. "The book explained that under certain circumstances... a woman have to provide for herself... "
She gave little gasps and moans when she lapsed into complete self abandon. Her face twisted up in agonizingly frustrated grimaces. Her pelvis arched, then came down hard to dig the little buttocks into the mattress with a rolling grind.
"Gordon... I can't make it... work!" She was totally desperate now, perspiration pouring from her snaking body, thong stockinged legs kicking frantically. "The book said... "
"All right, Jeanette!" Gordon shouted with a cold firmness, struggling to get out of his clothes.
"Gordon! Oh, Gordon! It's... just like you used to be when we were first married!" She reached up toward him with clawing hands as he approached the bed naked. "Dr... Dr. Junghauser told me it would make a man go absolutely wild to see a woman do that. And now... I'm going to do what I said I would... you must be very excited about it, Gordon... "
"Yes, Jeanette. I'm the most excited I've ever been in my life." His eyes bore right into hers, then traveled back to the sheeny briefs beside her.
"Oh, you're so... so stimulated, Gordon! I want to kiss you and lick you all over like a terribly vulgar and disreputable brothel girl!" She sat up quickly and threw both arms around his hips as he stood there.
Moving his hips to maintain Jeanette's preoccupied abandon, he reached down to pick up the little lace trimmed panties with a trembling right hand. His shaky fingers caressed and fondled the frilly lace and smooth silky nylon, reveling in the luxurious feeling that blended with his cresting emotions.
"Now, you bitch! You goddam bitch!" He fused the summit of hate and climaxing passion into a single burst of exploding deliriousness.
Stretching the tensile briefs behind her neck with both hands, he brought his knee hard up into the huge breasts and pushed her away from him violently!
And when her arms stopped flailing, when her whole body went limp and remained that way, Gordon released one end of the panties and let her fall back on the bed... !
At 3:30 the desk porter in the lobby was still asleep, completely oblivious to the man who carried along object wrapped in a sheet right past him and out the front door. With a little effort, the flexible item fit snugly into the trunk of the rented car parked just across the streets.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bunny filled her shot glass by draining the last drop of whiskey from the bottle, then tossed it off neat. The warmth flowed through her body nicely. But it was only 8:30 Wednesday evening, and she knew it would not last. All day, in fact, had been nothing but one shot of whiskey after the other to carry her through the dull boredom of a senseless TV show or the tedium of some magazine article about the star-crossed love affair between an insipid youth and his imbecilic girl friend.
"Damn, Gordon! Why don't you come back?" she asked plaintively of the four walls to her efficiency apartment, wringing her hands and pacing the carpeted floor aimlessly.
The best part of the day had been waiting for the mail in the morning. But all it brought was some silly ad about subscribing to magazines at half price. There was no letter, no word at all from Gordon, not even the money he had promised to send by this time so she could pay her rent on time and lay in some groceries and liquor.
"Send me up two fifths of Old Cousin," Bunny spoke brusquely into the phone after dialing the package store's familiar number. Miss Brooks at the Parkview Towers. The delivery boy knows the place."
"Restlessly, she began to pace the floor again. There had been no answer when she tried Mrs. Kirby's apartment earlier, ready to do anything and everything like oversexed resident manager had promised. Goddam you, Gordon... why don't you send me some money?" she cursed aloud, her mind even playing with the idea of buying some excitement from the beauteous Carol Dawson across the hall.
A mental picture of the tall model's pulsating body loomed up vividly. Bunny would be just in the right mood after a few more drinks to go over and see Carol again, try to force or seduce her into doing something.
"Oh, you beautiful, delicious thing!" she hissed through her teeth at the vision of Carol's nude body.
But then she frowned again. Only a half an hour before she had heard the man knocking on Carol's door. She had cracked her own door open and seen the short balding little guy with the case of photographic equipment welcomed by the smiling model in her tight, white short shorts and a bikini halter. And now, as Bunny waited impatiently for the whiskey to arrive, she wondered what they were doing, her ideas taking on fantastic proportions.
Carol Dawson stood in the middle of her living room floor in a pair of high heeled leather boots that reached well past her knees. A battery of flood lamps glistened brightly over the rest of her fabulous body which was completely naked. In her right hand she held a short leather whip like a riding crop, and tapped it steadily against the side of the long boot.
"Ah... beautiful, "the fat little man exclaimed gleefully as he squinted through the view finder on his camera. "But... the legs... a little farther apart."
Carol licked her lips sultrily, looked down at her nakedness suggestively, then moved her right foot out a few inches. Restlessness tugged at her. Doubt bothered her. The pudgy little man with the bald head had called her two hours ago and said he was an amateur photographer who had gotten her phone number from a nameless friend. He could be a policeman. Or he could be for real.
"There! There! That's it!" he shouted enthusiastically. "Now... act like you're mad at someone. Get that mean look in your eyes again... like you were going to take that whip and beat somebody to death with it!"
Carol tensed her body and elapsed the whip hard. She hissed and let her teeth show in a savage snarl. She was breathing heavy. A drop of perspiration rolled down from her neck, swooped over the heaving mound of her right breast, and sent a shudder through her whole body as it splashed over the nipple.
"Great! Great!" the man ejaculated verbally, setting off his camera. "I never saw much a great look on a girl's face."
"You making these for yourself... or for those way out people?" she asked, grabbing a towel off the chair at her side and wiping over her sweat slaked body.
"My private collection, Miss Dawson." He looked at her like he was hurt to think she would imagine he let the public leer over his works of art, then glanced at his watch. "I hope I'm not keeping you too long. It's almost nine o'clock."
"What's today... Wednesday?" she mused, walking over to the table to get a cigarette, getting a knick out of the tingle of the thigh boots furry lining as she felt it rub against her calves and thighs. "No... you can take all you want at fifteen bucks an hour, Mr. Prentiss."
"Yes... yes... well, I thought... ," his trembling fingers held out a light for her cigarette, his eyes dancing brightly across her tall, full body and the shoulder length cascade of jet black hair, "I thought maybe for something better than fifteen an hour... say fifty dollars... you might... allow me a few more... more personal liberties."
"Hey, what are you? Some kind of nut?" She backed away abruptly when the cigarette was lit, playing it extremely cautious.
"I'm a fetishist... I thought you understood that." He held out both hands in a gesture, his breathing labored and wheezing. "Why do you think I made -thirty pictures of you from every conceivable angle and in every position, with those boots on?"
"Damn, it's hot in here!" She still tried to figure him out as she grabbed the towel again.
His eyes were transfixed on her as she swiped at nether portions with the towel. The contact sent a charge of feeling through Carol too, and she tired harder to reason out it he was for real or not. He seemed logical enough. No vice squad cop she had heard of had enough originality to come up with a request for something as bizarre as the leather boot bit.
"One more picture! One more!" His eyes were suddenly aglow with a new idea as he wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve and dashed back to the camera. "I'll set the automatic timer for this one... but you stay right there."
Carol tapped the whip against her boot and wondered what it would be this time. He had already snapped her putting on the boots while she sat down, while she lay spreadeagled on the floor, while she leaned over and let her fall way down, plus a whole bunch of offbeat poses it the bathroom.
"We have fifteen seconds... just fifteen seconds before it goes off." he said with jerky nervousness, unbuttoning his shirt as he sat on the floor in front of her.
"Hey... what the hell is this?" she frowned, steeping back with one foot. "I said we better keep it to just posing for pictures."
"It's... it's all right, Miss Dawson!" he insisted breathlessly, lying flat on the floor in front of her as he tossed the shirt aside, "Just... place your left foot right on top of my chest... and hold up the whip like you're going to strike me. But... but hurry, please... only eight more seconds-seven... six... five... "
Carol looked down at him with a domineering smirk. She raised her foot and brought it down firmly on his barrel shaped chest. She brought the whip up high and took on the expression of anger, the savage snarl she had used before. And in spite of the man's blobby fat, his bulbous bald head and squishy muscles, she found the thrills charging through her body. She loved the dominance, the mastery that the situation imparted.
"Beautiful... beautiful!" he said ecstatically, gazing up slavishly at the thighs above him, "... two., one... zero!"
The sound of the camera clicking was almost drowned out by the sudden sight of excitement that made his flabby lips flutter in an obscene sound.
"Down boy," Carol laughed, taking her foot off his chest and looking at him an amused smile. "Did you mess yourself up?"
"No... no... it's all right." He got up puffing his fingers twitching as he stuffed his hand in a trousers pocket and pulled out a healthy roll of bills. "Look here, Miss Dawson! I'll give seventy... seventy five dollars for just a half hour's time! You must do this for me! I'm obsessed with your body... your personality... the way you look in those wonderful leather boots... "
"What... do I have to do for the seventy-five?" she asked slowly, beating the whip harder against the boot and watching his interest rise with each tap.
"Here... here you are... " He peeled off seven tens and five. "You won't be hurt... I promise you. I'll do nothing but kiss... "
"There's a law against this kind of thing... taking money from you, Mr. Prentiss." She went into her pitch, counting the bills with her eyes as he laid them out on the table. "I couldn't possibly accept any money from you. I'd have to do it because I liked you.. and because you liked me."
"You... mean you'll you really want to?" He was overtaken wit joy, rubbing the big red pimple on his quivering white belly and reaching for his money. "You... you just don't know how happy you make me! My God, you just don't know!"
"But my poor old grandmother likes little presents... Carol began her ruse cleverly, driving him to distraction as she whacked the boot harder and harder with the whip and roiled her tongue around. "She's had a very hard time making ends meet since granpa died."
"Yes... yes, that's all right!" His shaking hand held out the money to her. "Give... give this to your grandmother. It's all hers, my dear."
"Oh, I wouldn't dare take it from you, Mr. Prentiss." She shook her head seriously and slapped her upper thigh with the whip. "But you could mail it to her."
"Mail it? But... how?" He was frustratedly puzzled, his belly bobbing around like blobs of jellied yogurt.
"Here's a stamped envelope." Carol's hand was unsteady and sweaty as she opened the drawer to the small end table and tossed it to him along with a pencil. "Write her address on it... it's Mrs. Philip Wood... seven-thirteen Stockwell Road... District City, Maryland.
Prentiss was hard put to steady his hand long enough to write it down. His body jerked each time he heard the swish of the whip and the sharp slap against the large portion of her firm upper thigh. When he finally finished it, he held out the envelope to Carol.
"Don't give it to me, darling... that would make me a prostitute." She stepped back to avoid the technically of even touching it. "Just slip on the jacket to your suit and go put it in the mail chute by the elevator. I'll watch from the door."
"Smart... damn smart." He gave a nervous smile of admiration as he threw on his jacket and went out the door while Carol stood just behind it. "Money mailed to address in another state... just across the D. C. line... in my handwriting... damn smart... you're a clever girl, Miss Dawson."
Carol watched as he went quickly to the mail chute by the elevator and dropped it in. She smiled with pride at her own cleverness. Tomorrow, the forwarding service in Maryland would put the money in another envelope and return it to her.
Carol was surprised at the mountain of strength in the fat little man as he grasped her waist with both hands and lifted. But when she "Now... here we are." He spoke with renewed excitement, tossing his coat on the couch as Carol closed the door, then grabbing a small end table and testing its rigidity. "Yes... this should do fine."
"I might want to give you a refund after I find out what this deal is." She screwed up her eyes hesitantly.
"It'll be all right... perfectly all right, Miss. Dawson." He tried to reassure her, rubbing a hand across his hairy belly, and making quick adjustments on his camera. "Now... you stand right up there on that table, and I'll set the thing here to take one picture of us every fifteen seconds. Here... I'll help you get up there." looked back down into his flaccid face she saw nothing but a pitiful, supplicating weakness. The flabby skin hung loose on his jaw. The eyes that bathed her boot clad legs and naked body until they came up to meet hers, were bloodshot and dazed. He huffed and puffed, wheezing from the exertion of lifting her, and his hot breath wafted the black tuft so close to his face.
"Ah... ha... ha... just the right height... just the right level," he gloated, kissing her thighs and trailing around them with his tongue.
"Hey, baby! Mmmmm... that feels good!" Carol shivered frantically with the sensation as he moved around the table and rubbed his hands over the expanse of her quivering buttocks, "That... that's my weak spot, darling... mmmmm... "
"The whip! Beat me on the back... with the whip!" he panted as his mouth explored.!
"Whatever you want, darling!" Carol enthused with a deep intake of breath, twisting around at the waist to strike him as he worked in back. "Ohhhh, baby! It's been a long... Long time since I've had that... it's wonderful!
Carol raised her right hand and brought the whip down hard on his bare back. She watched his body give a convulsive spurt, felt his tongue work faster. And then she hit him again... and again... and again.
"Don't... don't... stop now!" he beseeched her, kneading the upper thighs with his fingers as he moved back to the front. "Do... do you have a girl friend? I want... you and another girl together some night... take some movies of you... and another man... "
"Oh, baby! baby! baby" Carol screamed as his lips closed on her, her left hand reaching down to roam the top of his bald head. "Damn, baby!."... " yes... know a nice young redhead... I think I can... get her... " It was all she could do to get the words out as she rolled her hips to increase the torrid momentum and contact. "It'll cost... cost a lot though... but you can make all... all the movies you want... "
"Heheh... hehhehheh!" he laughed with slobbering ghoulishness, reaching up to fondle her big, excited breasts. "You must... hit me harder now... for the grand finale... and you must yell at me, yell at me very angrily! You're too fat, Jerry! You're too goddam fat! No woman will ever let you touch her!"
"Yes... of course... " Carol was confused but eager to do anything to make him quit talking and get back to loving her, "You're too fat, Jerry! You're too goddam fat! No woman will let you touch her!"... "to fat, Jerry! Too goddam fat!" Carol was exploding with the sex crazed frenzy of what he was doing to her. "Ahhh, baby! Now! Now, Jerry... craaazy... baby!"
Across the hall, Bunny Brooks felt like she was going crazy too. Carol's wild screams had sent a flurry of erotic visions through her imaginative brain. She had tried to call Mrs. Kirby again, but there was still no answer. And the passion which had been satisfied all too briefly yesterday afternoon, was flaming into holocaust of mounting desire.
"I could rape the damn walls!" she called out frantically, pulling off her baby dolls and scraping her hot palms across the erected nipples, "Damn! Damn! Damn! I can't stand it! When is that whiskey coming! I've got... got to have a drink!"
She tore off the baby doll panties, then yanked open the refrigerator door hoping a beer would be there.
Her eyes flitted around over the assortments of cheeses, sandwich meats, milk, and soft drinks.
"Why... why doesn't he bring that whiskey?" she cried out, just about to close the refrigerator.
And then her eyes came to rest on the long, fat smoked sausage that lay alone on the bottom shelf. Her pupils enlarged and her head seemed like it was spinning off into space. She grabbed the sausage like it was the most valuable thing in the world.
"Oh, you big beautiful darling, you!" She kissed it hungrily, then quickly lay down on the sofa bed which was folded up as a couch now. She dangled one leg over the side until her foot touched the floor. She gripped the sausage tightly at one end and let it slide across her stomach. She closed her eyes and gave a little yelp when the icy viscose covering touched her.
"Liquor store, Miss Brooks" a muffled voiced blasted through her proxy reverie, accompanied by three loud raps on the door.
Bunny sprang instantly from the couch. Her head filled graphically with a mental image of the big, handsome, dark skinned youth who worked for the liquor store. She dropped the sausage on the floor and scrambled through her pursue on the table.
She had a total of two dollars and some change.
"Hell!" she cursed.
But then her eyes brightened. The boy would surely be willing to forget the tab for what she was going to give him. She was ready and able to do anything and everything that many a man would surrender a week's pay for. She gripped the knob tensely, arranged the long locks of her bright red hair down over her breasts, and stood back from the door in all her naked glory.
"I'm all out of money, darling, but come in and I'll fix you up real... "
Her mouth fell open when she focused on the little creep of a man standing there with the package of whiskey bottles. He was hardly the robust youth she expected, who delivered in the daytime. He was a runty little tramp with a screwed up leathery face and only a thin thatch a gleaming skull. His eyes were inset and shot with veins of red and purple, but they didn't miss an inch of her full young body. He couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and his cheeks sunk way in where the teeth had been a long time ago. He opened his mouth and smiled broadly to show her the diseased gums he hissed and spewed through when he spoke.
"Yes'm... shore will come in an' get me some o'that purely nice stuff, ma'm... hehheh," he laughed in an excited screech, walking right in as he fumbled with his trousers. "Man wouldn't have a pure feast with you, little darlin'... be violatin' the Pure Food'n Drug Act... hehheh."
Bunny lay back on the couch and closed her eyes. It was too late to care.
And she had to have the whiskey.
CHAPTER SIX
The nightmare that was Wednesday for Bunny Brooks faded into the background with the new hope of Thursday morning. Surely, she reasoned, there would be some money in the mail from Gordon today. And with it, some kind of note. Or perhaps he might even show up in person today and drive away all the ugliness of his absence.
Bunny whistled a sprightly tune as she pulled on a skin hugging pair of capris and got into a pullover knit blouse. She admired herself a moment in the mirror, smiled at the way her rigidly erect young breasts stood out in braless detail through the tight blouse.
It wasn't the kind of outfit she would wear to the store, but it was perfectly all right for the laundry room of the Parkview Towers on a weekday morning.
"Hello, dear!" Carol Dawson beamed a smile at Bunny as she stepped out of the elevator with a basket of clean clothes. "Too bad I didn't know you were washing this morning too. We could have had a nice little chat in the laundry room."
"Yes... that would have been nice." Bunny was hesitant and unsure about this first meeting since that night at her apartment.
Carol eyed Bunny's attire with a sophisticated smile, then pressed the palm of her hand along the side of her own pair of conservative slacks.
""I'd like to talk to you sometime today." Carol set down her basket and fished a cigarette from the pack in her blouse pocket. "There's a friend of mine I'd like you to met."
"T don't... think I'd be interested, Carol." Bunny entered the cage quickly before it closed. "My boyfriend... Gordon... will be back any time, and... "
"Well, we can talk about it later, darling." Carol plucked a piece of tobacco off her lips and picked up her basket, adding with a sly grin, "But I think you'll be interested in what's down in the laundry room today. Let me know how you make out?"
Bunny was curious as she rode down to the basement level. There was no real intrigue yet since she was still at the optimistic part of the day concerning Gordon. But she wondered if Carol was referring to Duke... or Mrs. Kirby... or perhaps somebody entirely new to the Parkview Towers?
The answer was right there as soon as Bunny entered the long whitewashed cinderblock room.
All Bunny could see of the new girl was a breathtaking view of the back of her legs all the way up to a pair of pink stretch pants as she leaned over to get her clothes from the drier at the far end of the room. She wore a loose fitting duster that flared way up in the rear as she bent down. The size of her legs showed she was a plumpish girl. But the luscious shape and firm smoothness of her rounded calves and full thighs gave the impression of a healthy Greek Goddess in her late teens.
"Hi there, honey! My name's Deanie May Shelton! What's yours?" the girl asked with bubbly friendliness as she stood up and turned around to discover Bunny gaping at her. "I just moved in yesterday."
"I'm Bunny... Bunny Brooks."
Deanie May was like a vivacious over developed teenager on the loose. Her long blonde hair was in a pixy ponytail that swished around effortlessly as she walked. Her face was peachy and creamy without the benefit of any makeup. It was round and healthy, cutely pretty. And the topside of her body was a perfect complement to the plush fullness of her fine rounded buttocks. The breasts jiggled nicely beneath the seersucker duster which, in spite of its looseness, clung close to the large bosom.
"Wowee, honey! That's a real rape-asking outfit you've got on," Deanie May twanged adolescently in her Southern accent, bundling up her dried clothes and walking over to Bunny. "Back home they'd arrest a gal for dressin' like that. Cheeerist You ain't even got on a bra!"
"I'm sorry you don't approve!" Bunny angered a moment, slapping a quarter in the machine.
"Hey... you got me all wrong, sugar!" the girl proclaimed with hurt seriousness, then giggled cutely as she put her clothesbasket down. "That's why I left that crummy ol' place to come to Washington. Of course my ol' man had a hand in it too."
"Your old man?" Bunny asked an amused smirk, but found herself warming to the girl's outspoken manner. "What did he do? Kick you out of the house for not being a goody-goody?"
"Hell no, sugar. He got drunk and raped me one night." Deanie May shrugged as if had all been just an unfortunate caprice. "Them my ol' lady got all shook up an' shot him. Now, she's in jail and the police chief said if I didn't leave town he'd lock me up for beein' a party to insects... or something like that."
"I think you mean incest." Bunny laughed at the girl's mistake in the face of so much worldly experience.
"I don't know... but he sure bugged me, the ol' bastard." Deanie May toyed with her watch strap, then pitched in to help Bunny load her wash.
"I guess he was jealous," Bunny observed, then paused as she got a glance down the front of the gaping duster when Deanie May leaned over. "He probably wanted a crack at that warm little body himself."
"He was jealous all right." Deanie May stood up to catch the tail end of Bunny's stare down her duster. "But he was jealous because I taught that delinquent kid of his to make out in the back sea of a Volkswagen. The little bastard got me pregnant when I was thirteen, an his old man's had it in for me ever since."
"You have a boy friend in Washington yet?"
Bunny asked, pouring in the soap and starting the washer.
"I haven't even got a job yet!" Deanie May giggled again and her eyes widened brightly. "But I'd sure like to snuggle up next to that Duke fella when he was buck nekkid. He helped me move my stuff in yesterday, an' I nearly flipped."
"Oh... he did?" Bunny bit her lip as a fantastic picture of the virile Duke in bed with the luscious little blonde loomed up. "Yes... Duque's quite a handsome guy, isn't he?"
"He gets hot real easy too." The girl played with the buttons down the front of her garment and made a slurping sound with her mouth. "I let him watch me take off my stockings and I thought he was gonna bust out his britches. Man, he must be built!"
"You didn't find out?" Bunny got a good laugh at the girl's antics as she closed the washer.
"Naw... that gal who runs the place... Mrs. Kirby... she snoopin' by about that time to see if I was gettin' settled okay." Deanie May shook her head then stuck her thumb in her mouth as her face brightened again. "Come on upstairs an' have a beer with me, honey. You got a half hour before that wash'll be done."
"I'm on the fourth floor, Deanie May," Bunny told her as they entered the elevator and she fingered the buttons for the floors. "Where are you?"
"We're neighbors, sugar! I'm in four-thirteen," she winked, reaching for the button at the same time.
Deanie May's soft fingers pressed over Bunny's and the girl tittered nervously until their eyes met. Bunny couldn't tell if there was only curiosity or a genuine hint of interest in her expression. The only promising thing was that Deanie May kept her fingers there for several seconds before releasing them.
"You sure got a swell body, sugar," Deanie May commented as she withdrew her hand. "I'll bet you've got a whole slew of wolves with hot pants at your door."
Bunny meditated before answering the question. Was Deanie May digging for something? Should she follow up the remark and the finger touching episode with a rejoinder to the effect that she enjoyed a nice she-wolf occasionally too?
"I guess I have my share." Bunny decided against a direct approach so soon. "This is the wildest town for men on the make I've ever seen. Worse than Hollywood even."
"Gee... you been to Hollywood? Deanie May's face lit up with profound intrigue.
"Yes... I'm an actress by profession." Bunny felt a twinge of pride at the younger girl's awe. "But my fiance came to Washington to work... and he insisted I give up my screen career."
"Say! You're really big time stuff, sugar!" Deanie hay was ardently impressed, stepping aside for Bunny to get off the elevator first as she asked excitedly, "What movies ya been in? Is it true whatcha hear about them real swingin' Hollywood parties? Did that French sexpot Fifi LaRome really useta do an animal act in Paris? Does that producer Manning X. Manion really have a thing a whole foot... "
"Wait a minute there, Deanie May!" Bunny broke into laughter, preferring to forget her unpleasant Hollywood venture. "It's not all that bad... or that glamorous. But I did hate to leave there... I've been acting since I was a small child."
"Gosh! Deanie May exhaled dreamily as they walked into her apartment, "And ail I ever did as kid was learn about men.
"Oh?" Bunny's interest picked up and she recalled what the girl had told her earlier. "You mean that bit about getting pregnant at thirteen?"
"I was already the town whore when I was thirteen, sugar. That police chief's son was the youngest guy I'd ever done it with." Deanie May giggled at the pitfalls of her own past as she opened the refrigerator to reveal cans of beer stacked high on every shelf. "And this stuff is my next biggest problem. I take exercises like I was a female Vince Blantly, but half a case of beer a day fouls it up."
Bunny sat on the couch and looked around at the meager furnishings while Deanie May pulled the tab openers off two of the cans.
"You don't seem to have any complaints about being overweight," Bunny observed, watching the big breasts jiggle underneath the cotton duster as she brought the beers over.
"I guess I musta been born with this figure, Bunny," She slurped at her beer like she was on the desert, sloughing off the compliment. "Doc Finnegan who runs the drug store back home tried to make me when I was eight. I used to go down there to get a soda pop all the time, an' one night when he was about to close up with just him an' me there... he asked me if I wanted to come in the back an' see how he filled prescription."
"Ha ha... ha ha!" Bunny broke into amused laughter at Deanie May's guileless manner, then moved over to give her more space to sit down. "You really did start young. What did he do?"
"He told me he'd better put some medicine on a little scratched place right above my knee." Deanie May set down her beer and pulled her duster halfway up the plumpishly cute thighs to demonstrate. "So he set me up on a table, yanks up my skirt, an' starts tellin' me how all pharmacy men really doctors an' I oughta let him gimme a good examination."
"I bet you were scared to death." Bunny was become more intrigued by the bawdy tale.
"No, sugar... his fingers felt real crazy." she winked playfully, rubbing her thighs suggestively with both hands. "But when he couldn't get what he wanted without hurtin' me real bad... he got mad an' made do it the other way."
"Hmmmm." Bunny's eyes were riveted to the cushy soft young thighs as a host of ideas ran through her head. "You must have come out of that deal on top in more ways than one. He'd probably do anything to keep you from talking after that."
"Free ice cream cones." Deanie May shook her head regretfully. "I guess its true every good whore needs a good pimp. I don't even have enough dough to keep up an apartment like this for a month. I was lucky Mrs. Kirby only made me pay half the deposit."
"She's a... a very understanding woman." Bunny's eyes narrowed as she wondered if anything had happened between these two yet.
"She says she'll get another girl to share it with me." Deanie May slurped from the beer again, then curled up both legs on the couch right beside Bunny. "There's a lotta college kids an' all come by to look a place here, but they don't have enough dough for an apartment by themselves. By the way, sugar, where you workin' now... in a night club?"
"I... I'm not working at all now." Bunny decided to be honest, stirring inside at the closeness of the girl's pretty knees that almost touched her hips. "My fiance is quite well off."
"Baby! What a sweet deal that is!" Deanie May looked at her admiringly, toying with the top button to her duster as a knowing smile creased her lips. "Is he married... your guy?"
"Yes," Bunny admitted.
"I like married guys." Deanie May stood up suddenly and tossed her beer can into a wastebasket filled with other clanking empties. "Ready for another one? I'm on my fifth today already."
"Sure. Why not?" Bunny swilled the rest of hers and felt the beginning of a small glow as it slid down to her stomach which had not been fed since yesterday.
She repositioned herself on the seat, moving closer to where Bunny would sit back down. The new girl's manner, her childlike sensual charm and outspokenness, convinced Bunny there would be no harm at all in being more forward with her. And the idea built with rapid frenzy when she saw Deanie May lean over to get two more beers from the well stocked refrigerator.
"You ever do any modelin' sugar... pose for nekkid pictures an' stuff like that?" the girl asked, swishing back over the couch. "I bet they got a lotta that stuff goin' on a big town like this."
"No... I never have." Bunny was excited with the natural opening this allowed, laying her hand carelessly on the sofa beside her. "Have you?"
"Coupla times." She leaned over and Bunny caught a good look down her front when she put the cans on the table. "We useta have this freak come down from Chicago every summer an' hire out young kids to pose for him back in the woods. He paid us twenty bucks each time too! That's more'n I ever made whorin'."
"There's a girl here you might like to meet," Bunny mentioned, twiddling her thumb in the air as Deanie May came around the coffee table to sit down. "She lives just across... "
"Wheeee! Goose me again, sugar!" Bunny burst into a giggle as she sat right down on Bunny's raised thumb and squirmed her buttocks around playfully. "Cheeerist! I ain't had anything in three days, an' that feels so goood!"
Bunny started to apologize until she caught the wild look in Deanie May's eyes. And then she just kept moving her thumb around. "Bunny's, honey... geegosh, I was hopin' you'd be like this... ," her voice quavered as she opened her full lips and moved closer to Bunny's face. "Men are good kicks, sugar.. good kicks an' they'll buy ya stockin's an' perfume an' all... but it takes another gal to know whatcha really want... "
"A bolt of lightning coursed through Bunny's body when Deanie May's mouth closed over hers and sucked her tongue right out. The girl's had came up under the knit pullover and grabbed her left breast tightly, squeezing it hard as she rubbed her own lavish bosom against the right breast. Deanie May worked her thumb back and forth across the nipple until Bunny felt she could explode right then. She forced the skintight capris down without even unbuttoning them.
"Oh, goddam, Bunny!" Deanie May flung her head back languorously, the blonde pony tail flipping around behind. "I could eat you up, sugar! But... which way are you... top... or bottom?"
"I... I don't care, sweetheart." Bunny stood up to pull down the capris. "I... I just want to love you 'til I can't stop, Deanie May! I want to do everything... turn you every way but loose, darling!"
"Cheeerist, you've got a body!" Deanie May was twisting and turning, her own body going crazy as she fumbled with the row of buttons down the front of her duster. "And a real redhead too! Oh, sugar! I'm gonna... "
"Miss Shelton! It's Mrs. Kirby! May we come in?" the resident manager's voice announced liltingly from outside the door, her knuckles rapping on it sharply.
"Oh, hell!" The girl slapped her fist on the couch as she muttered the curse. "That bitch would have to come now."
"Don't... don't tell her anything!" Bunny whispered frantically, pulling up the capris as Deanie May buttoned her duster.
"Coming, Mrs. Kirby!" Deanie May called out.
Louella Kirby smiled when she saw the flushed expression on their faces, letting them know he was pretty well aware of what had been going on. But she retained her air of the dignified resident manager as she picked up a suitcase and nodded to someone who stood beside her in the hall.
"Good morning, Miss Brooks," she greeted Bunny with sly formality, then turned to Deanie May. "I've brought you a roommate, Miss Shelton. I'd like you both meet Tamila Dindali. She's a student from India."
"So very pleased to meet you," Tamila spoke in a clear British accent, bowing pleasantly to each girl, bestowing a smile every bit as elusive as the sari she wore.
The look from her sent a tingle through Bunny's sensate mind and body. And she was suddenly very jealous of Deanie May Shelton, who would undoubtedly be the first to discover what lay beneath the billowing cascades of silk that draped the lovely Tamila.
"I... I guess I'd better go check my wash." Bunny was helpless to hide her disappointment as she stood up.
"Come on back when you're through sugar." Deanie May giggled cutely, looking from Tamila to Bunny with a hopeful smile as Mrs. Kirby was putting the suitcase in the closet. "Like they say back home... three's never a crowd if ya really swing!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Oh, Miss Brooks!" Louella Kirby's voice echoed down the hall when Bunny was putting the key in her door. "I brought your mail up to you."
Bunny's heart did a flip. She stood taut and tense as the resident manager walked down the hall from Deanie May's apartment holding two envelopes.
"Thank you... Very much." Bunny grabbed them eagerly. "You don't know how much I appreciate... "
Her voice dropped off when she saw the return address. Her heart sank, and the expression on her face changed from bright expectancy to dismal disappointment. One letter was a bill from a local dress shop. The other a past due notice on some books she had rented from a fiction library.
"Not what you expected, was it?" Louella's face was full of sympathy as she pressed a hand on Bunny's shoulder. "Come on up to my place and we'll have a drink together."
"Thank you." Bunny managed a smile, slipping the envelopes under her door. "I'll go put my clothes in the dryer first... they should be ready by now."
"You run do that, you sweet little girl." Louella rubbed her hand down Bunny's back and squeezed hard when she reached the out-curved buttocks. "Then come on to my place. It's the master apartment on the top floor." Louella's invitation helped to erase the gloom that threatened to settle over Bunny after the disappointment of the morning mail. She whizzed through the switching from washer to dryer in the laundry room, and was at the door of Louella's apartment five minutes later.
"Come in, my precious baby!" Louella invited warmly, her eyes eating up every inch of the way the knit blouse and capris were molded over Bunny's plush figure. "I'm just fixing some Martinis. Sit down and have a look at those picture albums I set on the coffee table, and I'll be right out."
Louella's living room was twice the size of Bunny's whole apartment, and had a full length, modern glass front opening onto a balcony. Opaque summer drapes wafted back and forth in the breeze that swept in from outside in gentle gusts.
The room was decorated in a subtle Oriental motif. Knickknack size nude figurines in ebony and ivory dotted every shelf and table. The musky odor of incense permeated the room.
Bunny sat down on a long, wide couch and flipped open the first picture album.
"My God!" she gasped with a confused frown.
The album contained half page spreads of what first appeared to be corset ads from women's magazines. But closer scrutiny showed them to be carefully posed photographs of girls and women in every conceivable kind and style of corset, girdle corselette, torsolette and waist cincher. The only thing they all had in common was the singular beauty of each of the models, and the strapped in tightness of their waists. There were blue-black skinned African girls in white corsets, American and European girl in jet black girdles. There were big mature women in full torso bindings, and chubby schoolgirl nymphets with their waists cinched in so tightly their faces wore expressions of excruciating pain. There was one full page photo of a beautiful young fat girl with tremendous breasts and huge firm thighs being forced into a waist cinching girdle by two men who pulled the straps tightly from either side until it appeared the model was screaming for mercy.
"Aren't they the most beautiful things you ever saw?" Louella came out of the kitchen with a pitcher of iced martinis and cocktail glasses, her eyes aglow with anticipation. "I hope you're not mad at me for sneaking in your apartment while you were sound asleep early this morning?"
"In my apartment?" Bunny frowned, welcoming a long sip from her martini when it was poured. ""Why?"
"To get the waist size off a pair of your panties, my sweet baby." Louella licked her big lips and walked over to a large cardboard box on a side table. "I bought you a little present."
Bunny had a good idea it would be now. And she actually welcomed anything that would carry her over the unbearable boredom of waiting of Gordon. So she contended herself with admiring the backs of Louella's thighs as she leaned over to open the box.
"It's lined with rubber, darling! You'll love the way it feels on you?" Louella's eyes were aglow with expectant delight as she turned around to hold up the garment, "Like it?"
Bunny stared with a turmoil of mixed emotions at the small black nylon torsolette with the frilly lace front panel. It was little more than an abbreviated corset that would reach up just to the underside of her breasts and down to the middle of her abdomen. The center was highly elasticized, and two rows of hooks down either side of the open back depended on a though leather string to lace it up.
"Are you.. going to put it on me?" Bunny's eyes were transfixed on the garment as she stood up to unfasten her capris willingly.
"Yes, baby ,, yes!" Louella's fingers rubbed across the inside rubber lining of the corset as she watched Bunny peel down the capris over her smooth belly. "Oh, you sweet baby redhead, you!"
Louella dropped to her knees for a moment, bestowing lavish kisses on Bunny's exposure, then pulled her hands up over the naked hips as she arose, drawing the knit blouse over her head. She moved after tonguing both excited breasts briefly, then unbuttoned the front of her own tight blouse.
"I want to see you naked too, Louella... "
"I want to see you naked too, Louella... " Bunny's voice was raspy with tensed excitement.
"They're terribly big, my sweet," the woman frowned jokingly. "My stepson calls them his two milk wagons."
"Your stepson... says that?" Bunny puzzled, remembering Louella had promised to have him here.
"There! How do you like them?" Louella ignored the questioning look as she undid the binding long line bra in back and pulled it down to her waist.
"They... they're beautiful, Louella!" Bunny had never seen anything like it.
Louella's immense breasts popped out of the confining bra like a torrent of unleashed emotion. They no longer maintained the outgoing rigidity of a young girl's. But there was nothing in the least unattractive about them. The skin was smooth and free of veins. They bunched in close together, yet their very size made them project from either side when not cradled in a sturdy bra. The nipples were deep brown and larger than the tips of Bunny's thumbs, and the mottled pink area around them spread out as a large as a mason jar cap.
"They're wonderful! Bunny gasped again when Louella lifted them to her mouth and kissed the nipples one by one.
"You should have seen them when I was in high school." Louella shuddered at her self arousement, then laughed reminiscently as her eyes took on a distant glow. "My parents were very poor then... and I used to charge the boys a quarter a look... fifty cents a feel. I had the most beautiful things of any girl in the whole school. But... I'm getting older now... "
"They're still beautiful, Louella." Bunny rolled her head from side to side in devoted admiration.
"Would you like to bite them?" Louella dropped her nostalgic ease and suddenly thrust them toward Bunny, kneeling where she sat. "Bite them hard, baby!"
Bunny fell easily into the hyper-erotic mood Louella created so well. There was no need for her to move, just close her eyes and feel the warm fullness as Louella forced it into her mouth. She lolled her tongue around first, then withdrew it. Her teeth reconnoitered the cushy feel of flesh between them, then closed down tighter. The other breast rubbed against her, until Louella's hand pushed it under her arm and squeezed it next to her body.
"I said bite it, baby!" Louella was impatient.
And then Bunny felt the other hand come around her backside and the fingers probe with a sudden sharpness.
"Aghh!" Bunny grunted, clamping her teeth down furiously and grinding them together over the yielding flesh.
"Oh! Oh, Damn! Damn! You beautiful sweet bitch!" Louella pulled away, clutching her bruised breast as she lay down flat on the floor and gazed up at Bunny's naked body with open mouthed wantonness. "You're tremendous, my sweet baby girl! I... love you!"
"I want it, Louella! I want you" Bunny was in an instant fit of overflowing passion, dropping on top of Louella and fighting the ruffled skirt for access to her body.
"No... no... no, my sweet" Louella rolled out of her way, scrambling to her feet and grabbing the rubber lined torsolette. "Stand up now... I must put this on you before my stepson comes."
"But I want you! Now, Louella!" Bunny yanked at her skirt, tearing it open.
"Please... pretty please, my baby doll... Louella implored, refusing to anger or use force, her soulful eyes almost at the point of tears. "I'll let you do anything later, Bunny baby... but let me put this on you first... please?"
"All... all right, Louella." Bunny felt impelled to give in to the plaintive pleas, grabbing the corset-like garment and fitting it around her waist, "But you just wait until you get through... you'll be surprised what I want to do to you, Louella."
The big woman's heavy breathing cooled the back of Bunny's perspiring neck as she worked feverishly to lace up the garment. She strapped the hooks together tightly at the top, then brought both strings down to where it hugged the top of her firmly rounded buttocks. Bunny was shivering with delight at the drycool feel of the soft rubber lining against her body. A whole new world of sensuality was bursting forth in her supercharged imagery.
"You're like a sweet baby girl, Bunny," Louella whispered, kissing her underarm briefly while her fingers played below.
"Feel me.. there... " Bunny emotions ran wild as she reached back and guided Louella's fingers.
"Later dear," she promised, lacing up the bottom of the thigh garment. "Now, take a very, very deep breath."
"Yes... "
Bunny sucked in her stomach until everything below and above her waist seemed ready to burst.
"More! More, little girl!"
"O... kay." She pulled it in more until her face was blue.
Quickly, Louella laced up the middle hooks at the back and drew out on each of the leather string until the elasticized midsection tightened fast around the squeezed up waist.
"More, Bunny! Suck it in more! Suck it in!" Louella was more firm and demanding.
.".. can't... all can... do... " Bunny choked on her words, then had to let go all at once.
"I'll get more out of you, goddammit!"
Bunny felt trapped, desperate, unable to breathe!
When she let go the blast of breath from her lungs, the tight torsolette left no room for her to breathe in again. And on top of that, Louella was straining every muscle of her big boned body to pull the laces even tighter. The very life seemed to be forced out of her. There was no more air to sustain her.
"Gagging... awwk... can't breath... awwk... ," Bunny gagged and gaggled, fighting for breath.
"Take it... take it in real short puffs, baby girl-you can get used to it... that way." Louella was out of breath too.
Bunny took her advice and felt the life returning slowly. And she was very glad to see that Louella was through now, her fingers tying the laces together.
"You're the most beautiful sight in the world, my precious." Louella stepped back and threw open the door to the coat closet. "Look... see for yourself."
Revived with the short intakes of breath Louella had recommended, Bunny turned to view herself in the mirror on back of the door. She tried to gasp at the sight of her waist, but only choked. Her 23 inch midsection had been cinched down to almost a 15. The lace from black torsolette, its garters hanging loose in front and back, did more than give Bunny a renewed sense of pride in how it enhanced the natural sexuality of her figure. It imparted a strangely tingling sense of narcissism that fascinated her strongly.
"I love to feel your bottom when you're dressed this way, darling... ," Louella enthused breathily, standing directly behind her and palming the underside of Bunny' protruding buttocks below the garment.
"Your breasts... feel good on my back," Bunny panted, rolling, her hips with the mood of sensuality that engulfed her. "Aren't you going to... take off the rest of your clothes?"
"Does baby girl want to see Mama naked?"
"Yes... I do." Bunny was hypnotized by the reflection of Louella's eyes in the mirror.
The larger woman's hips stood out a few inches to either side as Louella stood directly behind her and peered over Bunny's right shoulder. Her long fingers took hold of the under girdling she wore and peeled it down with the dress. Louella's big beautiful legs were bare as she kicked the clothing aside.
"Your bottom feels so good, my sweet baby." Louella slipped both arms around Bunny waist and jammed herself tight against her. "Ohhh! Baby! Baby!"
They rolled her hips from side to side in a simultaneous movement, then Louella brought her hands down across the tight corset until her fingers entwined intimately with Bunny. The feeling was a double barreled charge of delirious delight for the consummately passionate Bunny. And they both watched the sight in the mirror with awed ecstasy. "Oh... oh, Louella... Louella, baby!" Bunny was in a state of erotic hysteria, pushing and straining to move her hips more.
"Please, darling! Don't call me baby." Louella's request was a tearful plea rather than anger. "Call me Mama, sweetheart... you're my baby!"
Bunny didn't try to understand, only reveled in the fantastically exciting aura of the continued stimulation, panting and almost screaming as Louella rolled herself faster and ever faster against her buttocks, the fingers too picking up speed, where they worked.
"Call me Mama, darling... please... ," Louella begged again, and Bunny looked up to see the pitifully tearful look in the woman's eyes reflected from the mirror, "Please, my sweet baby!... Please...!"
"I love it. Mama... I love it!" Bunny felt on the verge of exploding.
"Ohh! Sweet, baby doll! Sweet baby! Hot baby! Beautiful... beautiful... babeeeeeeeeee!" Louella screamed out as she quickly took her hands away from Bunny and fell back in the chair exhausted.
"No! No, Louella! No, Mama!" Bunny yelled, dropping by the chair and grabbing her frantically, "You didn't... didn't let me... "
"I know... I know, baby." Louella pushed her away gently. "I'm saving you for... for my stepson."
"Okay, Mom! I'm ready, Mom!" Duke jumped from behind the door to the kitchen which had been left ajar.
"Duke!" Bunny screamed with excruciating effort, the torsolette seeming to tighten whenever she expended much air from her lungs. "No! Not Duke!"
"Yes... yes, my baby doll... it is Duke!" Louella was on her feet again, her breathing still labored.
Duke's hard muscles rippled and tensed as he stood naked and poised in the middle of the room. Bunny was entranced with his ready virility, wanting him to do anything at this point that would release her from the frustrated madness that raked her body from head to toe.
"Now? Now, Mom?" Duke asked like a trained puppet.
'Yes, Duke... now!" Louella positioned herself in a big easy chair that faced the couch and threw her legs wide apart over each arm as she reached into a drawer at the side table.
Duke grabbed the oversexed Bunny and threw her corseted body down on the wide couch.
"Oh! Oh, Duke! Damn... Duke!" Bunny's screams were the compelling out bursts of bittersweet pain and building joy.
Duke was a man would not stop, not let up for an instant his incessant use of her wildly inflamed body. He mumbled and groaned, roared like an uncivilized animal while he continued to take brutally and with no regard for anything but his own savage lust.
Bunny was hurting now, her sensitive insides burning with each new forceful drive of this sadistic beast. And yet the searing pain was not with out its own recompense, the longed for reward of the masochist delivered in its most correlated sexual form.
Her head dizzied more with each new thrill surge that would build to a crest, then hurry to rebuild and fight the pain which had its own compensatory kick. A strange buzzing, a steady vibration that seemed to come from an outer source filled Bunny's brain.
"Now, my children Now! All together! Now! Louella's voice broke through the explosive wonder of the ebbing flood of torrential passion that consumed Bunny.
"Louella... she gasped anew when she turned her head and watched with bewitched intoxication.
Bunny knew now that the buzzing noise was not just in her thrill fogged brain. It came from a small hand vibrator Louella was using.
And then Bunny gagged, unable to breathe with the pressure of his heavy body flopped limply over her tightly bound torso. Stars exploded in a galaxy of red and white light on a background of blue funk.
She gagged again. Then passed out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The well dressed American sauntered slowly along the notorious sin street just off Mexico City's Avenue Hidalgo. Thursday night was unusually slow, and the dark eyed young senoritas who strolled along in their tight fitting dresses and low cut blouses, gave special attention to the prosperous looking gringo.
"Hello, Senor!" One dazzling young thing scratched her breast, pulling open the billowing front of her blouse in brazen display, "I think I making extra good love for you... upside down and crazy, huh?"
"No... I... later, maybe," he brushed her off, his mind preoccupied at the sight of a shallow faced little pimp who leaned against a doorway with a smelly local cigarette dangling from his pallid lips.
"Good evening, senor!" The scrawny little man brightened when he caught the look in the American's eye, bowing subserviently as he removed the cigarette. "You like something different, eh? I am Jaime Gonzalez, at your service. You want two... three girls together? Young kid... thirteen or fourteen? Young boy? Some nice girl for beating? You want to stick pins in nice young virgin...?"
The American glanced cautiously from side to side as the disgusting pimp rattled off just about everything in the book. Then he grasped his shoulder and whispered something quickly as a tall brunette sauntered by.
"Impossible, Senor!" The Mexican looked shocked, his gimlet eyes showing a trace of horror. "Never... in all time I know these girl... does anyone ask me for this! Is against religion! Against respect! Against... "
His voice trailed off as the American pulled two hundred dollar bills from his pocket. Gordon Goodwin III had worked almost two whole days in planning each detail of this operation. He was not about to let some Mexican pimp spoil it.
"But... senor... " The little man still shook his head, but his greedy eyes told a different story, "I never before know of any man who want to make love with a girl... in a coffin!"
"You must know an undertaker... one who would let us use one... for the right price?" Gordon pulled the two bills away from him and started to fold them back up.
"Si... si, Senor!" The man's fingers twitched as he reached out. "There is a small funeral parlor not far from here. Maybe for... one hundred of those American dollar he would do it."
"Then the other hundred's for you." Gordon ran his perspiring fingers through the brown curly hair and relaxed a little. "I'll pay the girl myself."
"That is also a problem, Senor." The Mexican appeared terribly upset, not taking the money yet. "I cannot ask a girl to do this monstrous thing."
"Not for one hundred American dollars?" Gordon pulled another bill from his pocket and waved it for bait. "That's twenty... maybe -thirty times what she'd make on a night like this."
"Hundred American dollar!" he gasped, then screwed his face into a frown again as if he were still uncertain.
The tall dazzler who had approached Gordon earlier lingered close by. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the money.
"Ah, Rosita! The little pimp slipped the two hundred quickly in his pocket and grinned at the young girl. Cincuento American dollar el Senor... "
"I said a hundred dollars, you goddam cheat!" Gordon angered. "I know enough Spanish to recognize fifty when I hear it! But speak English from now on!"
"Si... si, Senor. I just try to save you some money," Jaime lied apologetically, bowing to Gordon, then turning to the girl to explain.
"In a casket for dead people, Senor?" The girl turned to Gordon for verification, crossing herself quickly as her eyes showed fear. "But I will be punished for such a thing! I cannot... "
"Do you want the hundred bucks for a half hour's work? Or don't you?" Gordon laid it on the line, tapping his right foot restlessly as he eyed each ripe curve of the young girl.
"Just for half an hour?" Her eyes never left the bill that Gordon started to put back in his pocket with a shrug. "Yes... yes, Senor! I do it!"
He liked the way she drew herself up proudly to announce the decision, admired the full bloom of her mounded breasts and the way they bulged loosely from the deep neck of her revealing blouse.
"You make it very good for the Senor, Rosita!" the pimp ordered her like a stern schoolmaster. "The American spends much money for this."
"Yes... I can make this man very... very good love like he want it... " She seemed to ponder carefully just what she would do in catering to this customer's particular whims with all her talents, then raised her arms to the sky dramatically. "You will come to Rosita in the coffin. I am very still like the dead. The greatness of your body will reincarnate we with your love. It will be beautiful, Senor."
"Yeah... sure... sounds great." Gordon showed a peculiar disinterest for a man who was investing so much. "Let's get this show on the road, huh?"
Ten minutes later, Gordon was pacing the drab little lobby of a cheap undertaking parlor while Jaime and Rosita had gone into the chapel to negotiate with the owner and prepare for the strange tastes of the moneyed American. Gordon tried to avoid looking at the sombre surroundings and concentrated his thoughts on the girl, Rosita. A bizarre stimulation began to stir within him. She was tall and dark haired like his wife Jeanette. And she could take on that same air of haughtiness he knew so well.
The visionary inspiration faltered though as he remembered the rented car parked just off Hidalgo Avenue in that crummy part of town. What if some hoodlum decided to break into the trunk?
"All is ready, Senor." The pimp smiled with a leering display of filthy teeth caked with plaque, "Senor Cabeza is very happy to be of service to you in his humble establishment. And now, you will excuse me, please?"
Gordon nodded and the pimp left. The door from the chapel was wide open, and he walked toward it in a hesitant, almost fearful pace. At first he had thought of the whole thing as merely a means to an end, a masquerade which he would have to perform as an overture to find a crooked undertaker. But now he was gripped with a strange compulsion, a sense of horror combined with the intrigue of unreal lust.
"Good... Gawd!" he mumbled to himself as he entered the chapel.
The sound of an old foot treadle pump organ filled the tiny room. There were rows of rickety wooden benches set close together. The floor was packet earth. The walls were little more than black tar paper decorated with crosses.
A macabre terror clutched at Gordon when he saw the three candles on the small alter which provided the only light in the grim room. Their flames sent ghostly shadows and vales of light flickering down on the casket that lay open on a little platform directly below.
Gordon was helpless to define the music which wheezed and puffed from the old organ. It was not a dirge that he recognized, not any hymn he had heard before. But he had never felt such a nearness with death in all his life.
He halted his reluctant accession to the alter. His eyes searched the dim room and he blinked them several times. The organist was almost out of sight, he discover, seated at the ancient pump organ to the left of the alter. All except the top of his bald head that bobbed up and down with the laborious pumping and playing, was shielded by a black screen.
Gordon started forward again. His feet seemed suddenly lighter, his whole frame easier to maneuver. It was as if a trance had enveloped him, picking him up with each step while his mind and body glided on in a state of hypnotic bliss.
"Jea... nette! No! My God"! he cried out, falling back as he looked down at the deathly still figure in the casket.
She was covered right up to the chin by a white shroud tucked in tightly around her sides. Her face was ghostly white in the flickering glow of the candles. Her eyes were closed. The long black hair stretched down limply at either side. The huge bosom was clearly outlined by the white sheet.
Gordon clapped his hand to his forehead and steadied himself by grabbing hold of the back of the front pew. It was the power of suggestion, the preoccupation with guilt at the murder of his wife. These were the mystic emotions which had given him a hallucinatory illusion of Jeanette when he first saw the Mexican girl laying there.
He detected the differences now, saw the sharper, younger, darker features of this girl's face. And he understood too the game she was paying, the act of the eager prostitute, ready to improvise and adapt to the desires and whims of a good customer.
At the same time, Gordon was well aware of the similarities in appearance which existed between Rosita and Jeanette. A restless excitement stirred within him at these thoughts enlarged.
"Yes... yes... it will be very good... " he mumbled dreamily, his eyes glazed as he leaned over to take hold of the white shroud.
The proprietor picked up the pace of the music, but maintained the funereal spirituality of his march to the grave. Gordon pulled the shroud away slowly. He dropped it at the girl's feet and gazed down in awe at the flawless beauty of her naked young body. There was a spectral, wraithlike quality to her stillness that made goosepimples explode all over him.
Marveling at Rosita's breath control, the apparent lack of any movement, he stepped back and began to undress, placing each garment on the front pew.
He was in a trance again as he moved up and hovered over the still form. His brain was clouded with the beauty of death... or at least imagined death, or death transposed. Gordon knew that a person who desecrated corpses or had sexual relations with the dead was called a necrophiliac. And as he stood there fascinated by the sight, he wondered if he would feel any different if he was looking down at a real corpse. The idea had no effect on his virile readiness.
The music swelled, and he recognized the classic, thumping, dreary dirge from Brahm's Requiem that made the spectre of death loom that much closer.
Gordon put one leg over the side of the casket and rested his knee in the narrow space between the girl's legs. He paused to look again at her motionless body, seemingly embalmed in the sleep of the dead. Her legs were long and nice, her hips pronounced and shapely, the waist exceedingly slim. Her huge breasts were like miniature aerial balloons partially deflated as she rested on her back. The nipples were hard and pointed.
He wedged his other knee between her legs, gripping the casket at each side while he extended his feet to the very bottom by hers. Then he slowly lowered his body into the casket.
Her body was warm yet lifeless. Her nether organs physically receptive yet immobile. Her nipples felt rough and rigid, yet no life appeared to stir within her breast. Her eyes remained closed, her face expressionless.
"Senyorrr... ," her small voice erupted in an almost unintelligible gurgle.
And he could feel the stir of life return her body from the dead. First, the hips began to move ever so slightly. Then, the firm solidness of the breasts worked back and forth beneath his chest, the nipples twanging his long hairs as they pulled them from side to side. Gordon was catapulted from a state of semi-eroticism into frantic arousement. He moved faster, felt his head bursting with the wanton desire to pump ever faster the blood of life into this beautiful body... " a wonderful man gives me love... I want him to take all of me... " Her voice floated ethereally and seemed to hang suspended in the air.
Gordon's head pounded harder. His hips bent higher as Rosita's arched upward in a renewed frenzy to bring his growing passion to fruition. The explosion itself was mild yet complete, smooth yet fulfilling. And he lay there panting, enjoying the intermingling sweat from their mutual struggle with love as it poured forth and drooled down her sides to the velvet cushion of the casket.
"Senor! Senor American! You ruin the material! Quick... get out!" The bald headed Senor Cabeza was suddenly jumping up and down in a state of blind fury at the side of the coffin. "You make it bad for next time... spoil it for Rosita's next friend!"
"Ha ha! Ha ha ha!" Gordon burst into a hysterical fit of laughter as the unearthly reality of the situation blotted out the fantasy of sensation he had found in this eerie venture into necrophilia. "You bastards! Big deal! Nobody ever asked for a casket before huh? Nobody ever wanted to make love in a coffin before, huh? What a con game! Try to milk every peso you can from the stupid gringos!"
"Please... you must pay me hundred dollar like Jaime promise, Senor." He held out a greedy hand when Gordon put on his trousers, "Jaime say you will pay hundred dollar for this."
"You crooked bastards!" Gordon bellowed, then laughed at his own gullibility. "The pimp has the hundred bucks for you. I paid him."
"But he no pay. Senor! You must pay!" The Mexican was furious, his eyes burning, the hands gesticulating wildly.
"All right... all right, Senor," Gordon mocked his accented English, pulling a wallet from his pants pocket and showing him a half inch thickness of hundred dollar American bills. "How'd you like to get real rich, Senor Cabeza?"
"That... for me?" The man shook his head with utter disbelief, even a trace of fear.
"You're a legally registered undertaker aren't you?"
"Si... of course, Senor,"
"I'll make a straight deal with you, Senor."
Gordon peeled off ten of the hundreds as the little man's eyes almost popped from his greasy face. "This is all yours... one thousand American dollars... if you'll help me."
"What... I have to do, Senor?
"You can put a casket on board an air freight flight to the States can't you?"
"Si! Si, Senor!"
"The authorities never desecrate the sanctity of the dead by opening a casket, do they?"
"No... but I must have death certificate... "
"I'm a smuggler, you idiot! I've got a small trunk full of Marijuana I want shipped to Friendship International Airport near Washington and Baltimore. Can't I put it in a casket... and you simply supply the name of some dead pauper you've just embalmed?"
"Perhaps... Yes! Si! A beggar who die only this afternoon! Nobody is to claim his remains!"
"All right, Senor Cabeza... the thousand bucks is all yours! I'll tell you which flight to put it on, and bring you the trunk to put in the casket. You get the papers ready."
"Si! Si, good Senor American... my amigo!"
CHAPTER NINE
"Nothing at all today, Miss Brooks." Louella's voice was crisp and formal but the intimate smile gave away her true feelings as she was confronted at the desk Friday morning by Bunny. "I hope you weren't depending on this letter to have some money in it."
"How... how did you know?" Bunny asked, leaning across the desk.
"I didn't know," Louella assured her, then grasped her arm warmly after being sure the lobby was empty. "But the downtown office called me today about your rent. It's overdue, you know."
"I'll surely hear by tomorrow... I'll have the money then." Bunny's frown was unconvincing, and she bit her lip before going on. "In fact... I'm down to just about my last two bucks right now."
"The office is closed tomorrow and Sunday, my dear." Louella seemed to be thinking. "They wanted my assurance that I could collect from you today. I'd help you if I could... but all I get from this job is that nice apartment and a few dollars a month to live on."
Bunny recalled Carol Dawson's offer, the mention she had made of fixing her up with a man. And she knew that Carol turned tricks strictly on a cash basis.
"Perhaps... I can work something out, Louella." Bunny withdrew her arm and started to leave.
"I hope so, my sweet baby." The woman watched with avid interest as the flared sport skirt billowed up around Bunny's bare legs when she walked away. "And if you don't get it before five, bring it up to my apartment. I'll be home all weekend, dear."
Three minutes later, Bunny was knocking on Carol Dawson's door. She pushed back her long red hair and tapped her foot impatiently. And finally, she could hear a rustling noise inside.
"Well, good morning darling!" Carol talked wide awake and bright, though she was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and fastening a long housecoat in front. "What can I do for you this lovely day? Give you a good whipping... I've got a fifty dollar special going before noon."
"I want to meet one of your boyfriends... one who doesn't mind spending some money." Bunny was blunt as she ignored the sarcasm and walked into Carol's living room. "I've got to get hold of over a hundred dollars before five o'clock."
"A hundred bucks! For a matinee job too yet!" Carol whistled, sauntering into the kitchen and lighting a fire under the coffee water. "I can't even do that well myself in an afternoon."
"I have to have it, Carol! I have to!" Bunny wrung her hands desperately, trailing after her into the kitchen. "The damn realty company is going to evict me if I don't come up with the rent. And I haven't heard a thing from Gordon yet. I'll do anything to get some money, Carol... anything!"
"There is one guy you might get two bills from." Carol fluffed back her disheveled black hair and struck a thoughtful pose. "But he's quite freakish, darling. Doesn't get his kicks in the conventional ways at all."
"But he'd pay two hundred?" Bunny was afraid, but excited over the amount. "What... exactly would he want to do?"
"He won't hurt you a bit. I can promise that, Bunny." Carol smiled good naturedly, putting instant coffee and sugar in a pair of cups, then looking through her address book by the kitchen phone. "And I don't know any other way you can make a dime before five o'clock... unless you want to hit the bars, ask for twenty, and end up taking ten for each quickie you can find... and maybe end up with a cop from the vice squad in the bargain."
"You're... sure he won't injure me... bruise me so Gordon would find out?" She bit her hp uneasily.
"Don't worry, darling. He'll take care of everything." Carol patted her bare back that was exposed nicely in the off shoulder blouse. "I'll call him right now. You run get dressed up in a hurry."
"You mean... he'll come right over?"
"In a couple of hours... but you and I have to go downtown shopping for something special before he gets here." Carol shooed her out as she dialed a number. "I told you this man was way out, darling... Hello? May I speak to Colonel Arkadekhov, please... "
Twenty minutes later a taxi let them out in front of a smart Connecticut Avenue shop. Lunch hour crowds of sharp young secretaries and Ivy League junior executives monopolized the sidewalk in brisk strides.
"Why! Why... it's a wig shop!" Bunny exclaimed, her jaw dropping open as they weaved through the cross current of pedestrians.
In the small window of the swank little store there was a display of several different types of expensive, human hair wigs. They were set atop plain, bald knobs the size of a human head, and Bunny grimaced uncomfortably at the bare knob in the center of the display from which a clerk had just snatched a blonde wig.
"I'll bet I know what this character wants." Bunny smiled sophisticatedly at Carol as they walked inside. "He's one of those nuts who likes to have a girl wear a different wig every time he makes love."
"Hmmmm... you're getting warm." Carol outdid the worldly quality of her smile.
"Good morning. Bon jour, Mademoiselle Dawson!" A middle aged woman with a little pot belly and a flaming orange wig greeted Carol effusively in a thick French accent, looking at Bunny as if she could eat her up. "Colonel Arkadekhov just called me."
"This is Miss Brooks, Madame Toulette."
"Enchante, mon petit." The woman's eyes zeroed in on Bunny's abundance of long red hair with something more than professional interest. "Beautiful! Magnifique!"
"Can you match it all right, Madame Toulette?" Carol asked, fluffing her own hair around abstractly, "I realize this is very short notice."
"Ahhh... it is so... so beautiful!" The woman was ecstatic as she exhaled with a shrug and found it an effort to be businesslike. "Yes... I have something which should match perfect. This way, please."
"Hey, Carol... what's going on?" Bunny was really confused now. "Why does he want me to have a wig exactly like my own hair?"
"I told you, darling. His tastes are most unusual." Carol remained vague as they entered a fitting booth.
"You will please to sit in the chair, Miss Brooks." Madame Toulette directed her to a device much like a barber's or beautician's chair with a headrest and arms at each side.
"You're not... not going to cut off any are you?" Bunny looked like a scared little girl as she glanced from the woman to Carol, who leaned against the wall wearing an amused smirk.
"Of course not, my child. Of course not!" Madame Toulette assured her emphatically.
Bunny noticed a curious look pass between Carol and the woman. But what she noticed more were the big stocky legs on the French woman when she had to stretch high in reaching for a box at the top of a shelf. They were tremendously muscular and big, yet not without their fascination for Bunny. There was a glimpse too of her chubby upper thighs bulging out from the tight stockings before she brought the box down.
"There, my child!" Madame Toulette beamed with pride when she opened the box. "This should come down to the middle of the back just like your own hair does."
Bunny gazed at the beautiful red wig in the box. It was not yet styled, but the coloring and texture were almost identical to hers. The French woman's eyes burned into Bunny's. Her lips opened slightly and her tongue made a very subtle sound as it worked back and forth in her mouth. Then, Bunny noticed her right hand gently stroking the hair in the box, her long fingers caressing it with the kind tenderness an old woman bestows on a beloved cat she believes to be her only friend in the world.
"And now!" Madame Toulette lay the box aside with what seemed a sigh of regret and brought out an Instant picture color camera. "I will take three photographs of your hair from different angles, and can deliver you the finished wig within two hours. In fact, my dear... I shall come over personally to fit it for you."
"Yes... that's fine." Goosepimples sprouted all over Bunny, her fear slowly giving way to intrigue as she found herself wanting to be surprised by what the afternoon would bring.
"Turn... just this way, please. Thank you!" Madame Toulette flashed the first picture, then walked over closer to Bunny while waiting the 60 seconds for it to develop. "Your hair has the most beautiful texture, my child. So... how you say... resilient, so springy to touch. Ahh... so nice... "
CHAPTER TEN
"Hey, sugar! What'sa matter? Whatchoo cryin' for?" Deanie May Shelton asked with concern as she walked into the little apartment she shared with the Indian girl.
"I am so worried about you." Tamila looked up at the stacked teenage blonde with a soulful expression in her tearful eyes. "It is now noontime on Friday... and you leave to go out yesterday afternoon. I think something terrible has happened to you."
"Gee, you sure have been bawlin', sugar." Deanie May dropped a couple of packages on the sofa bed which was still pulled out, and walked to where Tamila sat. "I guess you gals over there can't just run out anytime ya like, huh?"
"But you were gone all night, Deanie May." The Indian girl dabbed at her eyes and the color of life began to return to her deep olive features. "I think maybe you are in a terrible accident... or have been killed."
"I just, went out to see what a big city was like, sugar." The blonde pony tail wagged around cutely as Deanie May unbuttoned her wrinkled white blouse. "And I found out one thing-men in the city ain't no different from the guys back home. They all want kicks,... an' that's all they want from a gal."
"You were with a man... a boyfriend? All night?" Some of the hurt came back to Tamila's expression as she pushed the handkerchief back in the folds of her Sari and looked at Deanie May with wonder.
"Just a guy I met." She smacked her lips on a hunk of gum and blew a big red bubble. "He says he was just down here from New York on business. And man! Did he ever have a fancy room up in one of them real jazzy hotels on Connecticut Avenue!"
"You were in... in his hotel room? It is not true, Deanie May! It is not true!" Tamila sobbed out loud and reached for the handkerchief again as the flowing end of her Sari fell into her lap laying both lovely shoulders bare.
"Say you've got a crazy body under all that crap, sugar!" Deanie May sought to try to make her feel better. "And I bet the Maharajahs and all them other funny kooks with the dough, really went for it, huh? Didn' they though?"
"No man, .in all the world... has ever seen my body without clothes." Tamila swelled up slightly as if her virtue had been questioned. "It is forbidden to do so in my tribe without benefit of marriage."
"Well,... sure, sugar-heehee." Deanie May wrinkled up her little nose and pursed her lips admiringly as she noticed for the first time what a nice bust Tamila must have. "They got rules against it here, too. But a guy an' a gal gotta get their kicks somehow... can't wait until the house an' kids bit. Some of us'd wait forever."
"Getting kicks? Is this a colloquialism for marriage? Tamila could not understand.
"Kicks are... well, just kicks." Deanie May finished taking off her blouse, then unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. "Like... the guy I was with last night, f'r instance... he flipped his cookies twice jus' watchin' me undress. Then this mornin' he takes me out to buy six real sexy pairs of garter belts an' bras jus' so's he can watch me changin' from one to the other."
"So... maybe I am like this man too," Tamila stated with a determined smile.
"Huh? Deanie May puzzled at first as she looked again at the beautifully shaped young shoulders on the girl, the smooth olive tone of her skin.
"I find it also very interesting to watch American women undress," Tamila explained with little gestures. "You wear so many pretty things next to your nice bodies. It makes a suggestion of how you must feel... about kicks... "
"You mean... you don't wear nothin' under all that stuff you got wrapped around you? Deanie May screwed up her pretty face with curiosity as she peeled down her stockings and removed the garter belt.
"Absolutely nothing!" She looked Deanie May straight in the eye, her voice seeming to have a certain brazenness about it. "Our clothing is purely practical. It is made to conceal the body of the woman from the sight of man. And when one is married, this may be completely removed in his presence for the purpose of allowing him the use of your body, which he has purchased."
"Oh... you get them dowries an' stuff like that." Deanie May was intrigued by the lesson in culture as well as wondering what Tamila looked like beneath the Sari. "We studied about that foreign stuff in school. My history teacher was real smart about all that. He really had a whinger-dinger on him, too... wow!"
"Whinger... dinger?"
"Ha, ha! I don't guess you know much about men, huh?" Deanie May jounced her breasts all around and gave a sigh of relief as she took off her bra.
"Oh... I understand what you mean." A red blush discolored her smooth olive skin. "I have heard of this from other girls when they are older and married. But for me such thoughts are entirely forbidden. I must not allow myself the luxury of this until after I am married with a man."
"Seems like a awful waste, sugar." Deanie May rolled her tongue around with her lips open, then blew another big red bubble as she peeled the briefs down over her plumpish hips and thighs. "You can't get no kicks at all with everything like that forbidden."
"But it is not forbidden to look at you as I am doing now." Tamila's eyes lit up with adoration as they traveled the rich contours of Deanie May's plush body. "And this gives me much pleasure."
"Well... whatcha gonna do about it, sugar?" Deanie May brazened, wiggling her hips seductively as she strutted around the room.
"It is necessary to decide first who is to be the boss." Tamila stood up and held out the top of her Sari to Deanie May. "Am I correct in assuming you would like to see my body unclothed also?"
"Sugar! Would I!" Deanie May pounced on the lead and grabbed hold of the garment's end.
This was what she had been waiting for, hoping for, the whole time. But in spite of her frank outspokenness, the foreign girl's strange manner had kept her at a distance.
"How do you get this crazy thing off, sugar?"
"The Sari is but one single piece of cloth, Deanie May," she explained with a smile that showed she was very happy, then raised both arms above her head. "I will put most of the weight on the toes of my right foot, and you pull the Sari as hard as you can. I will look like the whirling dervish."
Deanie May warmed right up to the little laugh with which Tamila punctuated her instructions. Then she began to pull the long piece of silk and Tamila began to twirl. It unwound from her waist in several folds to lay bare the small breasts shaped in the bud form of a girl in her early teens.
"Gee, sugar... I know some guys go ape over them cute little ones like you got... make's 'em think they're gettin' a kid." Deanie May found herself fascinated by the rigid little breasts which became slightly larger as Tamila lowered her arms.
The rhythm of her twirling round and round had an actual beat to it now, a beat that picked up speed with the several tight layers around her waist which served to hold up the long loose folds reaching down to her ankles.
And then the whole thing fell away, and Tamila came to a breathless stop facing Deanie May. She smiled at first, then unable to understand the awed look on her face, became very sad.
"You... are not pleased with the body of Tamila?"
"Sugar... I love it!" Deanie May burst forth, licking her lips and rubbing both hands together as she studied every inch of the Indian girl's loveliness.
Tamila's legs were slim, but curved with all the right shape of a slender figure model's. Her hips were small, but stuck out in a highly defined half circle when she turned to her side. The belly was flat, the waist unbelievably slim, which made the lovely little breasts seem all the larger in proportion.
"Ohh, sugar!" Deanie May had to let go again, running over to Tamila with her arms outstretched. "I hope you ain't got no rule about this kinda lovin'."
"No... please... it is forbidden!" Tamila sidestepped quickly.
"Forbidden? "I'll be goddammed!" Deanie May lunged for her again, her buttocks and thighs quivering while her big breasts shimmied wildly.
"You... do not understand... please!" Tamila dodged her again, falling deftly onto the bed and rolling across it, then jumping to her feet on the other side. "We must contemplate our love first. It is so written."
"Contem--what?" Deanie May was out of breath, facing her angrily. "What kind of crap is that, sugar?"
"Please... you must not spoil it," Tamila urged seriously, reaching down to fold up the bed and provide more floor space. "If the contemplation proves our love for each other is strong enough... then we will make our... our kicks together while we touch."
"How's that?"
"I will turn off the large light on the ceiling." Tamila flipped the switch by the door, leaving only the small table lamp on to give the room a cozy dimness. "And I will sit here on the floor. And you will sit over there directly across from me. It is so written."
"Man! You're really way out!" Deanie May relented, intrigued by the exotic mystery of this strange custom.
The sat facing each other cross-legged about five feet apart. Tamila made some gestures with her hands, and twisted her buttocks around on the rug until she had just the position she wanted.
"Are you ready, please? she asked Deanie May.
"Ready for what, sugar?" the confused girl asked. "It's great to sit here and look at that crazy little body of yours. But what can I do... besides make it myself?"
"This is the true test of our passion for one another," Tamila explained, putting both hands down on the floor at either side and nodding to Deanie May to do likewise. "We may sit here for a maximum of one half hour and contemplate the joys of each other's body. If we concentrate all our thoughts on the wondrous delight of union with another, and if we truly have this feeling strong enough for each other... then we will both experience the fire of love as much as if united in physical embrace."
"It won't take me no half hour, sugar," Deanie May suppressed a giggle, feeling the mood of the spirit Tamila conveyed. "I'm about ready to gung-ho right now."
"We must not move our bodies! We must not speak!" Tamila told her with a devout urgency. "We must try to make the experience mutual by communicating only with our eyes. It is so written. Now... we begin."
Deanie May had never taken anything more seriously in her entire life. Her body became rigid, then twitched tensely as she tried to exert internal muscular control over her sensate organs. The feeling was good, titillating, but she knew it was not enough.
She let her imagination go way out now. She focused her eyes on the budding young breasts of the Indian girl, the nubile nipples that rose out from the small mounds and carried with them the whole darker front cones of her breasts. She concentrated on how they would feel to the touch, respond to the kissing and nibbling and sucking.
The desire rose within her body.
Her eyes lowered, yet kept a peripheral peek at Tamila's eyes which were riveted to the tufted apex of her parted thighs. She let her own gaze pass slowly across the uneven naval of the Indian girl and come to rest in the jet black forest that spread up and out until it became a whiskery fuzz under the flat plane of her belly.
Someone down the hall opened a door. A jazz trombone moaned through the vacuum of silence that surrounded them. It was a distraction, yet at the same time melded with the mood of Deanie May's excitement. She wanted desperately to move her body in the rhythm it demanded. But this experience, this different and new thing of controlled concentration, had now gripped her completely. It had become a challenge to her own ability. And Deanie May never backed away from a dare where sex was concerned.
Something like an ethereal force, a mystic beckoning, made Deanie May look up into Tamila's face. The Indian girl's eyes spoke a language which need no interpreter. She was on the verge of proving the strength of her desire for Deanie May.
It was horrible in a, way, this silent desperation, this being forbidden to move or talk. The sweat broke out on her forehead and arms. A sudden chill took hold of her as the air conditioning blew its frosted blasts across her moist nakedness.
And then Deanie May felt the rumblings begin to erupt within her body. Sharp chills and thrills ricocheted through every sex-sensitive nerve ending. Her eyes locket with Tamila's then looked down to discover that perspiration was not the only thing their strange, eerie experience had produced.
"Bingo!" Deanie May jumped up when the explosion came, her mind a bedlam of desire, a bursting balloon that had to be filled and filled again with the lifeblood of love.
"It is written! It is so written!" Tamila fell back on the rug in a spurt, of abandoned joy, flinging her arms and legs aside. "And you are my master! You have come to take me this way... that means you are my master... I am the slave. It is so written that we love!"
"Oh, sugar.. goddam little sugar!" Deanie May clamped her lips on the protruding cones of Tamila's breasts and wriggled down on top of her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"I'm scared, Carol! Scared to death! Why won't you tell me what he's going to do."
"Relax, Bunny. The only way you could possibly get hurt is by not relaxing."
Bunny was totally naked. She was tied down spread eagled across Carol's king size bed. Her ankles and wrists were bound tightly with several strands of insulated wire tied securely to the four bedposts. Her head was supported by two pillows, the long red hair flowing down at either side along her quivering body that was slaked with tension perspiration.
Carol took the last bits of her own clothing and walked to the closet. Bunny's eyes followed the pumping motion of her long thighs against the fulsome buttocks that jutted out so roundly. She watched with burning curiosity as the tall brunette took a pair of white nylon stockings and a pure white garter belt down from a shelf. There were a hundred questions dogging her anxious brain, but she knew they would not be answered until the mysterious Colonel Arkedekhov arrived. Bunny could now only enjoy the masochistic kick of her complete subservience, her absolute imprisonment.
Sitting at small boudoir chair after fastening the garter belt around her waist, Carol pulled the white stockings up her long legs one by one. She performed each operation with a slow and sensual rhythm, her movements allowing Bunny an angular peek at each rivulet and crevasse of her perfect model's body. She stood up now, facing Bunny, as if to show off the striking contrast of her white clad legs and tummy with the tufted centerpiece of dark black. She rubbed her breasts slowly a moment, then returned to the closet.
She looked through a rack filled with a variety of strange clothing, everything from a nun's cloistered raiment to the form fitting blue suit of an airline stewardess complete with insignia and cap. She withdrew a nurse's uniform of sheer white nylon. And when she slipped her arms into it and zippered up the front, the sleek white cloth clung to her body like a second skin. Her pink tipped breasts were clearly visible through the sheer whiteness that encased them. The garter belt and stocking were discernible too, but only enough to be suggestive and whet the imagination. The black tuft showed up too from time to time, depending on how she walked or stood and how tight against her the garment stretched.
"Carol... what could he want with me... when you look like that?" Bunny was entranced by the inspiring uniform and all the symbolic sensuality it invoked.
Carol did not answer. She kept that smug look of mystery on her face, that expression that warned and beckoned at the same time with equal ferocity. She reached into the closet once more and brought out a small object that she fitted carefully on top of her head. It was a regulation nurse's cap of stiff white cotton with a slim black band going around it.
A staccato series of loud raps sounded at the door!
Bunny's body convulsed suddenly!
"Is it him?" she asked breathlessly.
"It's almost two-thirty, darling." Carol smiled, trailing her hand across Bunny's tensed belly as she walked out to the living room. "It better be him... probably had to wait until Madame Toulette was ready to bring the wig."
Bunny tensed up again when she heard the three voices in the living room. The fat legged French woman was there too. What part would she play other than to bring her the wig? A creeping terror came over her, and Bunny froze, fighting to disbelieve it.
"Gordstky Dalimitov!" a course voice with a thick accent bellowed loudly. "She is truly great prize! I pay now, da?"
Bunny watched as the hulking Russian peeled off several bills and gave them to Carol. He was an immense bear of a man in a blue business suit that fit loosely over his hulking frame. Colonel Arkadekhov's face was as beef as his body, a rounded, burlesquely cherubic face with thickly thatched black curly hair that grew down to within an inch of his big bushy eyebrows.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Brooks!" the French woman elated, pressing her hands together as she saw Bunny stretched over the bed so vulnerably.
Bunny avoided looking at the French woman, her main interest concerned with the beefy Russian as he turned away from Carol and removed the jacket to his double breasted suit. His thick lips worked into a kind of leering smile, the bushy browed eyes roaming over her body with gloating lechery. The fat fingers, covered with bristly black hair, worked against and across his huge thumbs.
"Arghhh!" He made a crude growling sound deep in this throat, then walked over by the bed, "You are so much like nice Hungarian girl I know in Budapest when was big uprising against people is government."
"Perhaps an introduction is in order." Carol laughed at the ludicrousness of her formality. "This is Bunny... and this is Colonel Arkadekhov.
"Filthy swine!" The Russian big eyes glowered furiously at Carol, his hand threatening to strike her. "You learn to call me Doctor when I am here!"
"I... I'm terribly sorry." Carol flushed red with apology, then explained to Bunny. "You see, darling, this is kind of a little drama the Col... Doctor likes to play. Madame Toulette and I are the nurses... and he is the doctor."
Bunny was too terror stricken to open her mouth. The fear of death, maiming, horrible scars or amputations loomed up in her mind. She tried to scream out as the trio went into the living room and left her alone. But she was unable to force a sound of any kind from her dry, constricted throat. Each second was like hours, each drop of perspiration that rolled down her sides and belly, like a scalpel slicing her open, disemboweling her in the way she had read Jack the Ripper did with his victims. And she was helpless, unable to move, to scratch, to scream.
And then the music burst forth from the living room. It was a wild cacophony of Russian balalaikas blasting forth from the stereo at full volume.
"No...!" She was at last able to eke out a tiny scream from her gagging throat.
But who could hear it against the violently pitched strumming of the balaleikas?
"Mom petit Mademoiselle!" Madame Toulette entered the room with a smile of motherly concern and rushed over by the bed after she set down a stack of cardboard boxes in various sizes. "You must be quiet... relax. This is very beautiful and sacred thing you will do."
Then French woman was dressed in the same kind of sheer white nurse's uniform as Carol now. Her big squishy breasts though were flattened out somewhat by the confining tightness at the top. And below, her big thighs shown clearly through where they bulged over the tops of her white nylon stockings. Bunny's eyes searched frantically across the front of the uniform. Something was missing from the picture. But her thinking was too disorganized to understood what.
Carol was the second to enter the room. She carried with her a folded rubber case that she placed on the table by the bed. "Save... save me, Carol... I can't.." Bunny gagged on her words, swallowing to try to keep her parched throat lubricated.
"Raddy, nurse?" the Russian's thick voice boowed through the background of ear splitting balalaika music.
"Ready, Doctor!" Carol announced as Madame Toulette opened one of the cardboard boxes and set it on the beside Bunny's head.
Bunny cringed when he saw Arkadekhov standing in the doorway. He was dressed in a starched physician's jacket that buttoned with difficulty right up to his thick neck. His naked legs, covered with the same black foliage that cropped so abundantly on his head, were exposed from his big knobby knees to his bare ankles and feet. He was just putting on a pair of red rubber gloves when he entered.
"I tell you one thing, Miss Brooks." His voice boomed down as he stood by the side of the bed, his fat cheeks twitching uncontrollably. "You are completely helpless to resist! If you scream, no one can hear you! If you move around to much, you only hurt yourself! If you become uncontrollable, I kill you!"
The fight suddenly drained from Bunny. His fierce eyes contained both a threat and a promise, impressed on her credibly the truth of his words.
Bunny found her body more resigned now, the stark fear in her heart and soul giving way to a kind of excitable acceptance. And the rumblings of passion were already beginning to replace the terror.
"Scissors, nurse!"
"Bunny's eyes darted over to Carol, who brought a gleaming pair of stainless steel barbers shears out of the unfolded rubber case on the table.
"Mon Dieu! The hair is so beautiful!" Madame Toulette breathed ecstatically, and Bunny knew that it was her fingers which now held the hair, outstretched.
The French woman gave the shock a gentle tug. Bunny's eyes strained to see what was going on. She could make out the Russian's pudgy gloves fingers smoothing down the shaft of her hair until his hand was barely an inch from her head. And then she saw the flashing glitter of the steel blades as they surrounded the taut hair.
"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" Madame Toulette yelped in orgasmic delight, almost drowning out the sudden snip of the razor sharp shears.
The taut pull at the left side of her head was instantly released, and Bunny felt a strange new nakedness descend on her.
"Nice... very nice... " The gloating Russian beamed like a physician who had just performed the first fait of a difficult operation with great success.
"Magnifique! Magnifique!" Madame Toulette raved, kissing and licking the long strands fervently as she lay them very carefully in the empty box with tender loving care.
"Meanwhile, Bunny's eager eyes flitted from one to the other. She knew now that she must have been really aware all along that this was what would happen. And now it was too late to care. The main thing that she wondered about now was how much had left on. Would there be enough to style, to wear without the wig? Would it grow back enough before... ?
"Keep head very still, American whore!" Arkadekhov's voice blasted through her presumptuous thoughts.
She started to protest as he began to snip away with a vengeance at what as was left. Each little tug at her sensitive skull sent a new shiver of deathly fear skittering through her tensed body. But like he had told herself was completely helpless to resist.
"Ahhh! Ahh! Ah!" He made panting grunts of satisfaction as he snipped away.
"Hurry, nurse!"
"Lather!" Arkadekhov's voice boomed an order.
Bunny watched transfixed while Carol worked a wet shaving brush over a cake of barber's soap. She caught a brief glimpse beyond of Madame Toulette nuzzling her face in the box of hair and raising up with expressions of unbridled joy.
She cringed inside at the first slaps of the warm wet lather on her sheared head. It was the oddest feeling she had ever known, and made her realize even more the great nakedness of her loss.
Terror returned too when he saw the Russian flip open the long, straight razor and swipe it across his starched white jacket for a final honing. Bunny closed her eyes and lifted her head voluntarily when he worked the lather around the back of her ears and neck. She kept them closed as his labored breathing hovered over her, his fingers deftly glazing the sharp blade across her neck and scalp. She was surprised to find her body almost as num as her fogged brain.
"Wet towel!" the Russian barked, stepping back.
The warm damp towel felt good as it covered her head and relieved the horrible naked feeling... for a moment.
"Gordstky Dalimitov!" Arkadekhov's voice was a victorious battle cry, his pudgy, gloved fingers entwining with each other as he looked down at his work with the pride of a master surgeon. "A most beautiful head! Much better than the Hungarian girl in Budapest! Better than the German girl in East Berlin who had blonde hair down to her ankles! And ten times more beautiful than that fat head of yours, Madame Toulette!"
The French woman was not even listening, her head still buried in the cardboard box.
"Can I... have a mirror?" Bunny asked with trembling lips, burning to see herself quickly and get the shock over with.
"No!" he barked, picking up the shaving brush again, "Not until I leave!"
"But what... "
"Quiet!" he yelled, lathering her eyebrows. "Don't worry, darling." Carol's smile was filled with erotic warmth as she took the brush from him and handed over the razor again. "Madame Toulette has some false brows for you too."
"Ahhh! Ahh! Ah!" he grunted in three distinct pants, one for each skilled stroke of the razor.
He repeated this with the other eyebrow, then took a tip of the towel and wiped them clean. Again, Bunny found herself almost numb to the swift strokes of the lethal razor.
"Bah! American women all same!" The Russian growled angrily when he lifted up Bunny's left arm. Not like Russian womans! Russian womans all got planty hair on armpits! American womans dirty! Bah!"
"I... I'm sorry," Bunny's degradation seemed complete with her helplessly pitiful apology.
The yearning for sex still smoldered inside her body. But all strength, all pride, all sense of being anything but a completely dominated puppy dog for this brute of a man, was drained away. She was nothing more than a totally helpless slave to the slightest whim or offbeat idiosyncrasy of anyone else in the room.
And worst of all... she liked it! "Here you are, Doctor." Carol handed him a small pair of very sharp scissors.
"Madame Toulette!" he snapped impatiently. "Qui!" She jumped at his order, laying aside the bigger box and bringing a very small receptacle down to the foot of the bed where he stood.
"Ahhh... very nice... very beautiful... "
Bunny looked down across the plane of her belly. Arkadekhov was crawling on the foot of the bed, studying her most intimate area with the devoted scrutiny of a dedicated connoisseur.
"Oh...!" Bunny started when he lay the cold steel of the scissors flat against her pelvis.
"Quiet!" he bellowed, glaring up into her eyes. "One slip down here and you are ruined for life!"
Bunny stiffened herself rigidly. Her insides convulsed with each snip of the awful blades. But she remained motionless as the sweat poured off her body and soaked into the sheet.
She watched trancelike as Madame Toulette picked up each minute cutting between her long delicate fingers and placed them gingerly on top of a sheeny piece of white velvet in the small box.
Carol handed him the lathered brush when he finished. The French woman sat down in a chair, her mind off in a world only she could understand as she fondled and kissed the contents of the treasure box.
The excitement pounded through Bunny when he slapped the warm lather on her and worked the brush around. She was bursting with the desire to move, but didn't dare. And when the razor slid across her super sensate membrane, she felt she would die if she couldn't scream out in agonized ecstasy at the electric feeling it shot through her body. When the damp towel finally wiped away the soapy residue, Bunny let out a long breath and gave out with a moan of relief.
"Beautiful! Gordstky! How beautiful!" Arkadekhov raved like a fanatic at the result of his work.
He wheezed breathily as his eyes darted up and down her bald body. A quaint smile puckered his lips when Bunny's eyes locked with his and seemed to ask... what next?
"Madame Toulette!" he yelled, looking around to find her curled up in the chair in an eerie fetal position clutching the little box tightly to her breasts.
"Oui? Yes?" She jumped to sudden consciousness, stuffing the box tenderly into her breast pocket.
"Bring me the box, nurse!"
Bunny looked from the Russian to Madame Toulette. There was a hint of hostility in her sharp little eyes, and she clamped her hand tightly over the breast pocket.
"The other box, you stupid Frenchwoman!"
"No! No! You cannot do it! I will not let you!" she shrieked, reaching down to pick up the large box with Bunny's hair.
"Tcherghask Xherschko!" he cursed savagely, raising up his doctor's jacket and kicking her brutally back in the chair. "Every time you are like this!"
Bunny's body was relaxed now. The fear was gone. The terrible strain ended. But the relaxation brought obscenities to go with her debauched and degraded mood. But the big woman's mouth covered hers.
"Faster! Faster!" Arkadekhov grunted from the floor, his voice raspy and wheezing.
Twenty minutes later the deadly quiet of the big room created a suspense in Bunny's pounding head that was worse than the perverted madness of the big Russian's crazed antics.
"There... you're all untied now," Carol pulled the last cord loose from Bunny's ankle and rubbed the ridge of bruised skin around it. "Get up and see how beautiful you are."
Bunny's legs were wobbly and insecure after the two hours being lashed to the bed. Her head was even worse, throbbing and beating with the awful anxiety that made her approach the big mirror on the door with trembling trepidation.
"Come on... get it over with, darling!" Carol was impatient, gripped too by the anxious suspense that hung over them, and she shoved Bunny right in on a turbulence of its own, a steady buildup of the flaming passion that had consumed her before, but without its former pressure. She looked from the bruised Madame Toulette, who lay sobbing in the chair, to the excited Carol, who was taking off her nurse's uniform. And then she saw what Arkadekhov was doing.
Shorn of the physician's jacket, his apelike body bristling with the shiny black hair, he was poised on the floor like a man ready to start doing pushups.
"Ohhh... Mon Dieu... he will ruin its beauty... spoil its beauty with his... " Madame Toulette moaned.
"Shut up!" Arkadekhov grunted from the floor. "Give me atmosphere! Quick! Make atmosphere!"
Slowly, Madame Toulette pushed herself up from the chair and discarded her uniform. Her thighs and hips looked immense as they bulged out the tops of the white stockings, a burlesque of a Lautrec burlesque. Her big breasts were pendulous and soft. And there was no trace of hair anywhere on her body. She reached up and grabbed hold of the flaming orange wig and brown eyebrows. In a second, her oblong head was as bald as Bunny's. But anything looked good to Bunny now, and she welcomed the hard press of the big woman's body on hers.
She worked her hips rapidly, trying to mumble front of the full length glass.
"No! Oh, God! No I wanna die! I wanna be dead! Dead! Dead!" Bunny screamed in delirious hysteria.
Intuitively she reached up to pull out her hair in this sudden shock of frenzy, then burst into a well of tears at the awful and frustrating realization of how foolish the gesture was.
The top of her head was a gleaming, glistening white knob, a grotesque billiard ball that had been rubbed and polished to a brilliant glow. She was a freak! An animal! A sideshow relic! A geek!
Her hands groped below in another fruitless search, and she fell onto the bed in a sobbing heap.
"I'll help you with the wig and eyebrows, darling." Carol's voice was suddenly sympathetic and consoling as she knelt beside her. "It won't be too bad, Bunny... you'll get over it."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"She'll be here in a minute." Bunny was admiring herself in Carol's mirror the next afternoon, shaking her head so that the bright red hair bounced around nicely as it hung over the front of her blouse. "She had to give Tamila some excuse about where she was going."
"You're not the same girl you were yesterday." Carol smiled, coming up from behind to place both hands on Bunny's shoulders. "And today's just Saturday. See what a difference a day made? Nobody except us will ever know the difference."
"I even like it now." Bunny pressed her shoulders against Carol's breasts. "I just hope Gordon does... whenever he decides to come back... if he does... "
"You better face up to it, darling," Carol philosophized, edging away with a sly grin. "He may already be back. A kept woman has no real security."
"I guess I'm really afraid of that too," Bunny sighed, then plopped in a chair, her skirt flaring up to reveal the pretty bare legs, "... otherwise, I don't think I'd ever have agreed to these movies tonight."
"It's hard for any gal to turn down three hundred bucks," Carol smoothed her hand suggestively across the front of her tight short shorts to tease Bunny. "But don't worry about Gordon ever seeing them. This is strictly for Mr. Prentiss' private collection."
"So he says," Bunny added wryly, then shrugged her shoulders and smiled as she watched Carol roll her hips and rub her belly. "And I guess that's the only way I'll ever get you to make love to me... unless I get a hundred bucks to spare."
"I might even give you a free ride some lonely night, darling." Carol winked, then got up to answer the light knock at her door. "Come in, you sexy darling! You are the full bodied little gal from the country, aren't you?"
"Hi!" Deanie May smacked her bubble gum, the big blue eyes widening when she took in Carol's luscious body in the tight shorts and bandana. "Cheeeerist! Whatcha'll been doin'? Havin' a session?"
"This is Carol. This is Deanie May." Bunny stood up to make the introductions, then faced Carol. "If you think she's all right, I'm sure Deanie May would be interested in making some movies... or modeling."
"Jimminy, yes!" Deanie May brightened, unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it out of her skirt. "I had to borrow five bucks from my roommate for a case of beer today. I guess you wanna see what I got, huh?"
"Jerry Prentiss will go wild over you, darling!" Carol was amused by Deanie May's unabashed attitude as the young blonde pulled her bra off over the big breasts. "You're like a real corn fed high school beauty queen."
"I got kicked outta shook" Deanie May chomped away at the gum as she peeled her skirt and panties down together. "But I learn plenty from experience."
"I can believe that." Carol laughed, noticing the way Bunny's eyes never left Deanie May's plump little body. "And how about that beautiful girl from India who lives with you? Doesn't she swing too?"
"Uh... kinda." Deanie May frowned, rubbing her palms across both her breasts real fast. "She won't go for no guys though... an' she'd never let no pictures of her get made."
"We won't have to worry about that." Bunny stepped over by the blonde and took her hand. "This man has worked out a way to hide his color camera in the closet with himself, and take the movies right through that mirror in the door."
"And we'll tell Duke to lay off her, darling." Carol walked up to the other side. "How about it? Do you think you could get her to come by if you told her it was just the girls who are interested in her?"
"I dunno... she's kinda funny." Deanie May shook her head, then snapped her fingers and broke into a big smile. "But say... she gets pretty loaded on just one beer... and she likes tall babes like you, Carol... , likes 'em to be rough and bossy with her."
"Try to get her to come, Deanie May," Bunny coaxed, bringing up a hand to squeeze her big breast, "There's three hundred dollars in it for you if you can."
"Three... three hundred dollars!" Deanie May choked with surprise, rubbing her other breast harder. "Cheeeeerist! Kiss me quick, sugar! I'm gonna pop right now jus' thinkin' about it. Wheeee!"
"Let's... let's go over to my place a few minutes, honey," Bunny implored with sudden breathiness as she moved her hips against the girls naked buttocks. "I... I haven't seen you since... "
"Gee, sugar... I'd purely love to... that's for sure," Deanie May looked real disappointed as she started to dress, "But I told Tamila I'd be right back."
"Be here at ten o'clock tonight." Carol smiled victoriously, patting Deanie May's jouncy hips and giving her a teasing wink. "I think everyone will find a chance to do everything to everybody tonight!"
"Woweeee!" Deanie May shuddered ecstatically, leaning across to tongue Bunny's ear quickly. "I never had three gals and a guy all at the same time before. Cheeeerist!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gordon Goodwin III headed straight for the battery of telephone booths after he cleared customs at Dulles International Airport just outside Washington. He dialed the number of his own house and looked nervously at his watch while the phone rang on and on.
It was 6:30 PM. There was no answer. And he hung up with a relieved smile on his face. It was just like he had assumed. Jeanette always gave the servants time off when neither of them were to be at home. And she had obviously done this last Tuesday when she told everyone she was going to the beach for a few days, but had actually sneaked down to Mexico City.
"Hello?" A voice answered readily at the second number he dialed.
"Hello, Bill. I just got in. Is Jeanette over with your people?" he asked his next door neighbor. "There's no answer at the house."
"That's what you get for not letting her know when you're coming home." Bill laughed good naturedly. "She went down to Rehobeth Beach on Tuesday to escape the boredom and heat here in Washington. How was your trip?"
"Oh... just business, thanks." Gordon fumbled for words, then tried not to sound too emphatic as he remarked, "Well... since Jeanette's out of town, I guess I'll eat out and have a few drinks somewhere before I bother to come home."
"You're welcome here, Gordon," Bill offered with sincere neighborliness. "We're having Chateaubriand for out-of-town visitors. But there's always room for one more."
"I wouldn't think of it," Gordon said gallantly, grinning to himself, then repeating, "I'll just have a leisurely supper and a few drinks at some quiet place."
Two minutes later, Gordon had deposited -thirty cents after an operator secured his connection with Friendship Airport some forty miles away toward Baltimore.
"AirMex Freight Service!" a crisply efficient female's voice answered, and Gordon had a mental picture of a nice young redhead something like Bunny.
"I'd like to check on the cargo flight from Mexico City... flight eighty-five," he told her.
"On schedule at nine-thirty tonight," she answered immediately. "Weather clear all the way from Houston."
"Thanks... thank you very much," he replied, hanging up as he fingered the air freight documents in his pocket.
Saturday night on U Street, Washington's Harlem in miniature, was already off to a rousing start when the taxi pulled up to the curb at eight o'clock. A paddy wagon was loading on a group of rowdy revelers across the street, as a mob jeered them with antipolice diatribes.
Three women, slinging their pursed around and twisting their tightly sheathed bodies as they walked stopped to look hopefully as the well dressed outsider alighted from the cab.
Ignoring them, Gordon walked up to the door of a small business establishment and peered inside. The sign on the window read: Lincoln T. Washington, Undertaker--Dignified Funerals A Specialty--Burial Insurance Sold Cheap.
Just below this, there was a small white card stuck on the inside of the door, explaining: In Case Of Emergency, See Lincoln T. Washington, Residence In Rear.
"He don' look like no undahtaker, Pearl," one of the three twisting women commented.
"No... but he look too dead to be a custahmer!" Pearl laughed with a show of white teeth.
Gordon walked around to the narrow alley that led to the rear. It was almost dark now, and he nearly tripped on the ill repaired cobblestone pavement. He pulled out his cigarette lighter and proceeded to the darkened doorway with Lincoln T. Washington's name over an old tin mailbox. He knocked twice.
"I want to see... see Mr. Washington, please." He tried to hide his astonishment when the tawny young blonde with milk white skin opened the door.
She was a compactly built little sexpot in a sheer nylon slip and nothing else. The rigid outline of her excited nipples poked right through it. Her well built thighs were outlined clearly by the light that shone through from the door behind her.
"He ain't here!" she stated impatiently, starting to close the door on him, the back lighting glistening over her sweaty shoulders and arms, her breathing heavy.
"It's very important! Tell him it's the lawyer... the lawyer who defended him... "
"Goddam, girl! Who the hell's out there?" a deep bass voice demanded from the room beyond.
"Just a guy, honey!" The blonde fluffed her tawny tresses around as she turned toward the sound of the voice. "I'll get rid of him."
"Sound awful much like Mistah Goodwin." The voice came closer.
Lincoln T. Washington stepped into the foyer buckling a pair of trousers over his otherwise naked body. He was a huge strapping man in his late thirties, a brutish, muscular and virile Negro, whose sinews rippled as he stood there staring into the darkness outside.
"It's me, Link," Gordon addressed him with ready familiarity. "I've come to collect that favor at last."
"Mistah Goodwin!" His pearly teeth flashed a genuine smile that erased all the tough brutality in an instant. "I nevah though you'se gonna come see ol' Link."
"What's a deal here?" The blonde slapped both hands on her hips angrily, looking daggers at the two men. "I don't care who this fancy creep is. He cut in on the middle of our... "
"Get los', you damn muvva!" His teeth snarled this time as he reached back into the other room and brought out her dress. "Put this on an' get los', baby! Else I beat yo butt so hard you cain't sit down to... "
"Right up your kazoo, Link!" she cursed back, wriggling into the cheap dress, "You know where you can go. I'll be back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow."
"You'll be back... back to get some mo' that other kinda stuff." Link laughed with incredible confidence, then motioned to the inner door when the girl left. "You wanna drink, boss? I got some pow'ful good White Lightnin' my brother jus' bring back from Gawgia... "
"No thanks." Gordon shook his head and sat down in the rickety chair his host offered. "But how about that favor, Link? Am I still good for it?"
"Mistah Goodwin... you the only man on this earth the reason I ain't workin' out the res' o' my life in the Atlanta pen," Link with touching adoration. "I tol' you when you done been by lawyah an' don' charge me mothin'... I do anything in the world for you, boss. You jus' name it."
"Those papers are still locked safely in my office, Link." Gordon offered him a cigarette, then lit it for him as their eyes met.
"Them papers? The ones you nevah give ovah to the Law?" A worried look crossed his big face.
"Nothing to be concerned about, Link." Gordon grinned shrewdly as he knew he was getting the point across. "The deathbed statement of that girl will never get out of my hands. You and I are the only two people in the world who know it was also a case of rape, for which you were never tried... "
"Thanks... you awful good man, Mistah Goodwin." The hulking Negro leaned back in his chair with relief, then broke into a broad smile again. "I reckon you got somethin' real big fo ol' Link to do... you makin' such a fuss' bout it."
"You have a hearse, don't you?"
"Yassuh."
"Then it's very simple, Link. I just want you to drive out to Friendship and meet the cargo flight of AirMex Airlines at nine-thirty tonight."
"Tick up a body?"
"It's all legal. Here are the papers consigning the casket to you."
"That's all, Mistah Goodwin?"
"Not quite, Link... I'll be following you in your regular car. You do still have one?"
"Yassuh."
"After you pick up the casket and head back to Washington, I'll signal you to the side of the road at a lonely spot, and take a small trunk from the casket in the hearse, and transfer it to the trunk of your car. You bring the casket on back here, and I'll return your car about an hour later."
"What I gon! do with that casket, Mistah Goodwin?"
"Keep it. Sell it to somebody for a hundred bucks clear profit!"
"An' uh... that trunk you gon' take out...?"
"While you watch the highway, Link, I'll remove everything from the trunk and put it in the trunk of your car."
"Then what I do with it?"
"Take the trunk to the incinerator tomorrow and burn it! And Link... no matter what anybody asks... or whatever you hear... tonight never happened. Understand?"
"We bettah hurry we gon' get there by nine-thirty."
"Good boy, Link."
AT 11:PM Gordon was fighting the gearshift on Link's old sedan as he maneuvered through the Saturday night traffic down Connecticut Avenue just across the line in Maryland.
"Oh, oh! Sorry, Jeanette, baby!" he apologized in a drunken laugh as he hit a bump going around Chevy Chase Circle and entered the District of Columbia. "Hope you're not too uncomfor'ble back there. Ha ha."
Gordon took another swig from the bottle of Scotch he had picked up at a liquor store earlier and collected his thoughts. He would put in an appearance at the Metro Club as soon as he took the car back to Link after laying Jeanette's body out on her bed at home. This, coupled with the drinks and supper he had earlier at Fischer's Restaurant, would establish his story of making the rounds for food and drink since he had been told his wife was away at Rohobeth.
Shortly after midnight, he would get his bags from the coin operated locker at the bus station downtown, and take a cab home. He would make a point of telling the driver in a kind of half tight voice that he had just returned from Mexico City, his wife was away, so he was going home to his big house all alone after a night on the town. And the hacker, as required by law, would dutifully record the exact time he let him off at the big house set back in the woods of Washington's fashionable Dunbraden Pines section.
Ten minutes later, the police would receive a frantic call from a delirious man identifying himself as Gordon Goodwin III, and telling them he had just returned from Mexico to find his wife dead. There would be a broken window in the downstairs study, and most of Jeanette's jewelry would be missing.
The police autopsy would show death by strangulation four days ago. And Gordon would have ample evidence that he had been in Mexico City on business for the past month.
It would be the perfect crime.
"Hey, Buster! Make up your damn mind will ya?" A gruff voice called out from the car behind him at the intersection of Connecticut and Langton Lane, "You gonna make a left turn or not?"
"Yeah... yeah... okay!" Gordon stuck out his head when he realized what he had done.
He had unconsciously pulled into the left lane instead of continuing straight ahead for the right turn to Dunbraden Pines. The left arrow was with him and the motorist behind was leaning on his horn. Instantly, Gordon made the decision to go left and take the short cut through the park to Bunny's apartment.
Why not drop in for just a few precious minutes to see the girl who had inspired him to do all of this in the first place? Once the plan was carried out and the police were involved, he couldn't afford the risk of contacting her for several days.
And besides, Gordon wanted very much to see Bunny, to hold her in his arms tightly and explain why she would have to wait those few more days before they could really be together again. And he could tell her too that in just a very few months, she would become Mrs. Gordon Goodwin III.
Bunny would understand about the waiting then. Not, of course, that she wouldn't understand anyway. After all, hadn't Bunny proved to him in the most intimate ways he had ever known a woman, just how much she truly loved him... and him alone?
What difference would those few minutes make, he rationalized, pulling into a parking space along the dark side street by the Parkview Towers Apartments.
"Hey, Mister!"
Gordon swirled around in sudden fear at the high pitched little voice that called to him from behind as he crossed the street.
"You got a cigarette, Mister?"
"Cig... cigarette... yeah... sure," Gordon relaxed as he looked down at the shoddy little teenage urchin with his palm outstretched, "Here... have the rest of the pack, young man. I'll pick up some more."
"Thanks a lot, Mister," the kid smiled, tossing back his long overgrowth of brown wooly hair.
Gordon smiled as he walked in the deserted lobby of the apartment building and rang for the elevator.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"The girls at the party'll fall in love with you, sugar." Deanie May kissed Tamila's firm little breasts lovingly before she draped the Sari around them several times and then pulled it over the Indian girl's left shoulder. "We're jus' gonna have one great big ball."
"But the man will be there... " Tamila seemed unconvinced, taking the fresh can of beer that Deanie May handed her. "And I have never before seen a man all the way naked. It is forbidden."
"I told ya, sugar... he's been cued in on the deal... he won't touch ya," Deanie May insisted, checking her tightly sheathed body in the mirror. "You liked Bunny and Carol, didn't you? They'll be there too."
"Yes... Carol is very beautiful... " Tamila agreed wistfully, liking the taste of the cooling beer and feeling the effect after this second one Deanie May had given her. "I think she must have an exquisite body."
"Woweee! You can say that again!" Deanie May squiggled her torso, setting up gyrations in her bust and buttocks. "But we'd better hurry, sugar. The party's already started."
"Perhaps... if I have yet another can of this beer... I would not feel so restrained," Tamila proposed thoughtfully, drinking more of it.
"But we gotta get down, sugar," Deanie May objected, looking over at her watch which showed almost 11: PM. "We're an hour late already."
Please... you must go ahead." Tamila grasped the blonde's arm warmly. "I will drink one more beer and meditate on this."
"Okay, sugar." Deanie May shrugged and headed for the door. "But you're gonna really miss something if you don't just us later. I'll bet Carol has all her clothes off right now. Man, I wanna see that babe's breastworks!"
"A jewel... a real jewel!" the balding and fat Jerry Prentiss enthused when Deanie May was introduced, to him a few minutes later. "But what is this about the Indian girl?"
"That's why we called you out of the closet, darling." Carol waltzed over him, wearing only a thin bathrobe. "She may be down later."
"All right! All right!" he reacted impatiently, motioning them back into the bedroom. "We might as well start without her. You have everything worked out for this first reel? It will last for eleven minutes."
"You want me t'do it to Deanie May?" Duke got up from the couch. "I ain't done my stuff with a nice fat little kid in a long time."
"I ain't fat, you big dumbie!" Deanie May angered, trying to pull up her tight skirt to prove it. "That's all solid meat, sugar, But I'll bet you're good an' fat... in the right places."
"Come... I don't have all night." Jerry's depraved eyes lingered over Deanie May's stockinged thighs and he wished he had brought a larger pair of boots along.
Deanie May started to follow the others into the bedroom, but stuck her thumb in her mouth pensively as she remembered Tamila. Without consulting anyone, she walked quickly back to the front door and unlocked it.
"Gee! The lights are sure bright in here," she commented when she came in the bedroom.
"Jerry put photo lamps in all the sockets," Carol explained, taking off her robe. "That way we have enough light without having to make the place look like a movie studio."
"Cheeeerist!" Deanie May warbled and whistled when Carol stood before them totally naked. "You got the wildest body I ever seen, sugar!"
"Sis knows how to use it too," Duke laughed stupidly, removing his shirt. "Mom's the best teacher in the world."
"Sis?" Bunny jumped up from the perch she had taken on the edge of the bed.
"You idiot!" Carol slapped Duke across the mouth and he cowered away from her, then she turned to face the others. "All right! The secret's out! But we're not really blood brother and sister, so you can get those dirty looks out of your eyes. We're both Louella Kirby's stepchildren by different husbands. Louella raised Duke from the time he was fourteen, and me since I was twelve. Our fathers are both dead."
"Couldn't take Louella... ," Duke mumbled, pulling his shirt off and displaying his muscular arms and chest proudly. "Dad jumped outta the window when he saw Mom givin' me one o' her special massages... "
"Why don't you shut your stupid goddam mouth, Duke?" Carol belted him across the face again and he fell into a clump in the corner of the room.
"And what about your father?" Jerry Prentiss looked hungrily at Carol's luscious body as he poked in Carol's closet. "Did he too end his own life?"
"Dad was... was different than Louella and Duke and I." Carol was on the defensive now, pacing the floor naked in her seven inch spike heels. "Duke used to... to teach me things... and Louella liked to watch. Dad kind of... went crazy when he found out. He died in the asylum."
"But we wasn't real brother an' sister." Duke pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes glazed, "So's we really didn't to nothin' wrong."
"Beautiful... beautiful situation... ahhh." Jerry Prentiss savored the idea like a chef dreaming of a gourmet recipe as he pulled the long black boots from the closet. "But now we must get busy, my children. Remember that the camera is right behind this closet door. Always play so that everything... interesting, will be visible to the camera."
Jerry took one of the boots and stuffed his bare arm way down into it. He held it up and rubbed the polished black leather against the side of his face. His fingers groped around in the furry inside, his hairy arm tickled by the soft fuzz. A hypnotized look came over his fatty face. He took a deep breath, held it, then shuddered all over while he slowly withdrew his arm.
"This one... on the right foot, my darling." He was panting hard as he handed over the boots and riding crop to Carol, then stepped in the closet and closed the door, his voice becoming muffled. "All right! Lights... camera... action!"
Everyone took their rehearsed places. Duke, with only a pair of khaki pants on, stood slightly to one side of the foot of the bed which faced the closet door. Deanie May knelt down behind him, the tight sheath riding up to the tops of her nylons. Bunny slipped out of her capris and blouse, then took up a standing position, completely nude, in front of Duke. Carol took a seat on the foot of the bed, brought one leg all the way up to the mattress, and picked up the right boot.
"Cheeeerist, Bunny! Did you have a date with a barber last night?" Deanie May giggled her question when she watched Bunny peel down the capris.
"Get me hot, fat girl! Get me hot! You know what you're supposed to do!" Duke cut off her question as he looked down over his shoulder at the kneeling Deanie May, then picked up the black lace torsolette from the bed. "You're supposed to start doin' that stuff as soon as I start puttin' this corset thing on Bunny."
Bunny felt delightfully high from nipping at the bottle most of the day. Carol had teased her a lot earlier. Her body was in the right mood for anything. Her lips began to roll slowly, her big eyes watching Carol as she rubbed her big toe sensually around the furry top of the right boot.
"Oh, baby! You're built like a elephant, sugar!" Deanie May rapturized as she put both arms around Duke's hips from behind and reached for his zipper.
"Breathe hard, baby! Way in!" Duke ordered Bunny as he strapped the garment at top and bottom, then began to lace up the midsection.
She sucked in her waist immediately, surprised that she was really looking forward to the bittersweet sensations, the pain she would have to endure tonight. And the strange cool feel of the rubbed lining against her body brought back vividly the memories of that last time with Duke and Louella.
"Mmmmm," Carol moaned softly, her face a dancing picture of sensual pleasure.
She was leaning back as she sat on the foot of the bed, both hands pulling the boot up her right leg very slowly, her toes and foot wiggling and squirming through the deep pile of fur lining to squeeze into the tight fitting space. She let her body fall back farther with each inch of progress the boot made up her leg. When she was finished, she lay on her back, the boot covered leg straight up in the air, the naked one dangling off the bottom of the bed.
Deanie May had Duke's trousers down at his feet now, and while he grunted and strained to pull the torsolette as tight as he could around Bunny's waist, the blonde lifted his feet up one by one, then tossed his trousers aside.
"Damn... no! I can't... breathe... !!" Bunny yelled, the garment feeling as if it would cut her in two with Duke's powerfully muscular pulling efforts.
"Ha ha! Ha ha ha!" Duke chortled inanely, tying the leather laces together. "Mom's okay... but she can't get it this tight."
"Mmmmm... my legs feel so good!" Carol smiled soulfully, standing up and grabbing the leather whip.
She faced the mirrored door directly and stretched both arms high above her head. She yawned languorously and spread both feet apart, wiggling her tightly encased legs and loving the stimulating feel of the leather boots bound against her ankles, calves, and lower thighs. But her biggest kick came from knowing that Jerry must be going nuts as he watched all this through the peephole in the closet... " can't... breathe... " Bunny puffed hard, walking on her tiptoes to the point where Carol had placed the seven-inch spike heels.
It was impossible to lean over with her body so tightly bound from just under the breasts to the abdomen. Rut she managed finally to get both feet in them, and than face the mirror. She was amazed at the extra shape the ultra high heels gave her rounded calves and full thighs, how the overall effect of the high heels and torsolette seemed to make her buttocks stand out more prominently.
"Atta girl! Atta girl!" Duke was facing the sex-hungry Deanie May.
Deanie May said nothing.
Bunny sensed the pickup of passion that mounted throughout the room. She moved her hips as best she could with the tight girdling, then found she was able to manage a swaying counterbalance by using the whole of her torso as a long pivot. She was on fire now, her body responding to each movement, each twist with an internal ignition of her flaming body. And she moved faster and faster, until...
"Oww! Ahhh!" she screamed as the sharp sting of the leather crop landed twice right across her breasts.
With intuitive defense, Bunny folded her arms across them. But she could not move away, could not stop the fire that was consuming her.
"On the bed!" Carol snarled viciously, pushing Bunny until she fell back on top of the mattress.
Bunny wondered if Carol's anger was just part of the act, or was she really a sadist? It made little difference really. The sting of the whip, the forceful fall of her body to the bed, perhaps these indignities and the suffering could purge her of the guilt for the moment when Gordon would return... if he ever did.
"Come on, Deanie May." Duke yanked up the blonde from her crouching position. "We're all s'posed t'get on the bed 'bout this time... 'member what Mr. Prentiss said?"
"Upside down'r sideways, sugar?" Deanie May giggled, wiping off her mouth as she lay on the bed. "It don't make any difference to me... it's all goody-yummy!"
Duke stood over her a moment, taking in the beauty of her cutely plump the skirt to her naked bottom. His slow mind tried to remember, to keep together, all the little instructions Jerry Prentiss had given them.
"Yeah... yeah! That's it!" He snapped his fingers, grinning apishly as he reached down.
He took the hem of her skirt in both hands and ripped the whole dress right up the middle. Deanie May turned over in response to his swift yank of the shredded cloth from beneath her, then rolled over on her back again.
"Beat me! Beat me! Beat me! Bunny screamed plaintively as she lay on her stomach on the other side of the bed kicked her high heels in the air.
But Carol just stood there, toying with the leather whip, a sadistically cruel smile curling her full lips upward. She knew Bunny's type, knew this was the cruelest part of all... making them wait and wait.
"Put your legs down, darling." She smirked at Bunny's plight, picking up the vibrator with the long cord and turning it on. "This idea of Mom's should really send you to the outer limits... the way outer limits."
"Ohhh! Ohh! Oh, Carol... Carol, honey!" Bunny went into a delirium of wanton abandon, her ears ringing with the sound of the buzzing vibrator and the incessant whapwhapwhap of the blows to her bare backside.
"Switch! Switch now!" Jerry Prentiss' muffled voice yelled through the door. "I've just got a few more minutes on the film."
"But I ain't ready yet!" Deanie May protested, trying to hang onto Duke.
"Three times is plenty for you," Duke chortled and pushed her away.
Bunny turned over on her back as soon as Carol stopped and took away the vibrator. She saw Duke rise from the bed. She grabbed for Deanie May's sexily plumpish body and ripped off the stockings and garter belt.
"I'm on top, sugar... remember what the nice man said." Deanie May was over anxious to continue what she hadn't quite finished. "Wheeee! You're scratchy!"
Carol was out of breath when Duke came up to her, but wanted him anyway. Duke had always been her favorite, the others only paying customers.
"Duke, darling! Ohhh, sweet Duke!" She exploded with instant rapture when he moved in on her and pressed hard against her moving hips and breasts. "Let's... let's lie down, darling."
"Mister Prentiss said we gotta do it standin'!"
"Deanie May... babeeeee!" Bunny exploded.
"What the hell?" Carol abruptly stopped her frantic grinding, her face suddenly stunned with fear. "There's somebody knocking on the bedroom door!"
"Oh, goody goodies!" Deanie May jumped off the bed, leaving Bunny in an exhausted heap. "It's Tamila, I bet! She decided to come join us!"
"Get her in here... quick!" Jerry's excited voice rasped from inside the closet. "I've still got a few minutes left on this reel... hurry!"
"Come in, sugar." Deanie May took hold of Tamila's hand proudly. "I reckon you know ever'body 'ceptin' Duke... an' he ain't gonna bother ya."
"You are all so beautiful... ," Tamila's overawed eyes wandered across the naked girls with slow intenseness as she sighed, "... and I am so ugly."
"You're nothing of the kind, Tamila." Bunny joined the other girls around the new arrival.
Tamila's eyes stopped roaming when she saw Carol coming up on her. Her exotic face took on an expression of pure adoration. She watched the tops of Carol's beautifully full thighs quivering slightly above the long black boots bound so tightly to her ankles and calves. And the sight and sound of the leather crop snapping against the polished leather of the boots, sent a wondrous thrill through her entire body. She was immediately filled with a mystic passion to be completely and thoroughly dominated by this magnificently beautiful American woman.
"Take your choice, sugar," Deanie May shrugged disappointedly.
Tamila walked toward Carol as if in a trance.
"Undress me, please." Her little voice was hoarse as she pulled the end of the Sari over her left shoulder and offered it to Carol.
"Come here, baby!" Duke reached across the bed gruffly for Bunny and pulled her down on the covers. "I'm a gonna give you somethin' good!"
"I'm gonna help, sugar!" Deanie May snuggled down on the bed with them. "I haven't had my dessert yet."
Bunny rolled and writhed on the mattress as they went to work on her. She gripped the covers tightly and screamed each time she reached the heights. Her fingers caught in the long red strands of her wig and pulled it off on the pillow beside her.
But she was unaware of anything save the blasting, exploding, searing, burning passions that lashed at her insatiable body so wonderfully.
Goodwin had finished the fifth of Scotch when he arrived at the door to Bunny's apartment. Life was just one smooth, gliding dream of everything that a man could want. The family fortune was all his now. He was free to marry the most desirable and sweetest little girl he had ever know... or would be shortly. And he just felt real good and cozy all over.
"Hey... Bunny! You 'sleep?" he called out when there was no reply to his knocking.
He stood still at the sound of voices from across the hall. A girl was laughing. A man said something about it being the first time he ever made love to a baldheaded woman. It sounded funny. Gordon laughed.
"I don't care! I don't care!" a female voice yelled.
Gordon thought he recognized it. "All together now... one... two... " He did recognize it.
"Bunny! Hey, Bunny!" he called out, noticing the apartment door across the hall was cracked open a little. "I'll be damned... so that's why I could hear all that noise from in there."
He pushed the door open and looked around in the empty living room, then walked over to the closed bedroom door.
He hardly recognize the bald headed girl who pushed the kneeling man away from her and kicked at the naked blonde who lay across her.
But he did recognize the voice. It was the most difficult thing in the world for him to believe. His head seemed to snap. He felt dizzy and faint. Then the sudden shock of discovery flashed the moment of truth into his Scotch soaked brain.
He knew exactly what he had to do!
"Gordon... I can explain... I thought you were never coming back...!" The bald headed woman scrambled off the bed to follow him. "Where... where are you going, Gordon? Where...?"
"Okay, Buster! Back in there!"
"Wha...?" Gordon fell back flabbergasted as he faced the burly policeman who had walked through the open living room door dragging a cruddy little urchin by the collar.
"That's him! That's him, copper," the kid's squeaky voice pleaded as he pointed at Gordon, "I didn' kill the broad. I was jus' tryin' to see what he had in the trunk of his car... "
"Glory be! What've we got here!" It was the cop's turn to stumble back as he saw the mad scramble of naked bodies fighting for something to cover themselves with when he pushed Gordon in the bedroom, "In all my years on the force I never hit a jackpot like this!"
"Please... I can explain... " Jerry Prentiss wiped the sweat from his brow as he came out of the closet, "I... I'm a family man, sir... I... "
"All of you line up there by the wall!" The big policeman waved his revolver menacingly.
"Please, copper," the kid's squeaky voice piped up again as the officer shoved him over by the others, "You gonna let me go, huh? I fingered the guy, didn't I. You'd never know'd about the body in 'is car if I hadn't tried to kype a spare tire... "
"Maybe the prosecutor'll give you a break, my lad," the policeman shook his head, edging over to the telephone on the night table, "But right now, you're the number one witness."
"Gordon... my darling... " Bunny whispered as she stood beside him clutching a torn sheet to her body, ignoring the fear-stricken eyes of the others, "Tell him who you are... you can get us out of this... you're a lawyer."
"Ha ha... ha ha ha... ," Gordon laughed in a low, delirious babble, "There's a lot of difference between ninety-nine years for murder... and ninety days for immoral conduct... ha ha... ha ha ha ha... "
"You mean... that body was...?"
"Gimme the Vice Squad... quick!" the policeman was yelling in the phone, "No... wait! Gimme Homicide first. Yes... Homicide, I said... then make it the Vice Squad after that. What? The lines to Homicide are busy? All right! All right! Gimme the Vice Squad first... "
