Darla's vision was blurred by the hot tears and she had to blink to see. The second man had reentered the room and now the two of them stood near the door talking softly and looking at something the man had brought with him. Darla had to raise her head slightly to see what it was. At first, the heavy black object didn't register in her brain. When it did, she fell back on the pillow, gripped by nausea. A camera. The shorter man moved toward the closet, and when Darla managed to move her eyes toward him, she saw that he was undressing. Stark horror filled her, the certainty of her instincts now becoming reality. She was going to be raped, and the other man was going to film the scene!
CHAPTER ONE
Darla Sayer did not rush her steps to keep up with the group as it moved along the balcony of the cathedral. She hesitated, then resolutely turned back to retrace her steps. She could not spend the rest of the day with the chattering mass of strangers to whom she'd bound herself for a week. This was only the first day of the tour, and already she knew it was a mistake. She should never have come.
She stopped in front of the huge and beautiful rose window and caught her breath. The patterns of sunlight coming through the colored glass splashed over her and made her feel warm. Warm. Win! Ohhh, Win, why did you have to die and leave me alone? The sobs rose silently in her throat and she bit her lip to hold them back. She would never forget him. That's why this trip had been a mistake. She should never have let her sister and the others talk her into it.
"You have to start living again," Jean had said.
How could she live without Win beside her? He was so much a part of her, he was her and she him. And he was dead. She was dead too. Dead, but still moving through the motions of life numbly.
"It's been two years, Darla. You have to face reality. You're young yet, and you can begin again." Jean's advice, well meant, stabbed at her heart. How could she begin again when there was no beginning. It had begun four years ago when she became Mrs. Winston Sayer. It had ended two years ago when she received word that Win had been killed in a helicopter crash in Vietnam. She was twenty-two, and her life was over. She had only the delicious memory of the two nights she and Win had had together before he went back to camp.
The pain stabbed in her belly and she whimpered softly. She had to stop torturing herself this way, at least in public. Whenever she thought of Win and their nights in each other's arms, the physical pain and need shot through her and she began to shake. It was all right to endure and enjoy when she was alone and could abandon herself to the tears and the dreams, but sometimes she found herself unable to walk evenly when it happened elsewhere.
She gripped the railing and closed her eyes for a moment. Paris. Concentrate on that, Darla, she told herself. Beautiful city, lots to see. You don't have to stay with the tour. You can explore alone, be alone. Alone with Win. The pain stabbed again and she had to curl her body forward to ease it. A moan escaped her lips.
"Are you all right, mademoiselle?" A hand touched her arm.
Darla recoiled instinctively as the fingers lingered on her bare flesh. She opened her eyes and saw the dark, nice-looking young man staring at her quizzically.
"Oh. Yes, I'm fine." Her voice trembled.
"You are very pale. Can I do something for you?"
Darla shook her head and tried again to slide her arm out from under his hand. His palm burned against her skin, terrifying her, making the longing for Win unbearable inside her. She couldn't stand to be touched by anyone, any man. Not since Win....
"Please, I'm all right." It was a hoarse whisper.
The man smiled but did not remove his hand. Instead, he slid his other arm around her waist and urged her gently forward. "Here, come sit on the bench a moment. I would never forgive myself if I believed such a lie and then you toppled over the railing to the marble below!"
She was too weak to protest despite the strong urge to flee. He led her to a worn but polished wooden bench near the cool marble wall and sat her down. Then he sat beside her, his arm still lightly around her waist. She felt ill, physically ill. She swallowed hard and wet her lips with her tongue. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the hard smooth stone. She would be all right in a second. She had let herself be carried away with the haunting need and thoughts of Win. She had to put her mind to other things. Paris. Yes, Paris. Beautiful, historic city of Paris. She breathed evenly and deeply, trying to calm herself.
For a moment she forgot about the man. She blanked her mind and tried to cleanse her thoughts, to balance herself once more on the tightrope of desire and guilt. She was already in Paris. She would be here for seven days. She would survive. She would manage. She would ... Her thoughts cut off abruptly as some new feeling intruded on them. For a moment, she sat stunned and confused. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be.
The cool marble behind her back told her the truth, yet she was so sure she had felt Win's touch. A shiver rippled through her. There it was again. Win's hand lightly on her breast, cupping the fullness of its weight gently, lifting and-
Her eyes flew open. The smiling young man was still next to her. Only now he was close, only a breath away from her face. And it was his hand on her body! She gasped, sobs erupted and bubbled out of her mouth. The dream shattered into sharp piercing fragments that stabbed like knives.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, but the sound barely penetrated the silence.
The man grinned. "You are too beautiful to be alone in Paris, mademoiselle." His fingers dug insinuatingly into her breast. His thumb moved over the hill and searched for the peak hidden under her bra.
"Leave me alone!" she croaked. This time she moved away from him physically. She slid along the bench, wanting to jump up and run but knowing that her knees would buckle and she would pitch forward. Her entire body was shaking now and she was consumed with fear.
He grinned and slid close to her again. The hand pinched at her flesh. "Paris can be very interesting. It is more enjoyable to see it with someone who knows the city. Let me show you around."
"No!" Her throat was dry and raspy. She shook her head as though to emphasize her denial.
The arm around her waist moved down and the hand touched her thigh. "You are very beautiful."
She shook her head again. The hand tried to penetrate the hidden cavern between her thighs. She pressed her legs together. Her heart pounded and the blood screeched in her ears.
"No!" She tried to slide further away but she was in the corner, trapped against two solid walls of marble. His arm pinned her in the space.
"No!" she repeated.
His dark eyes were mocking her. It was a nightmare. It couldn't be real. He leaned closer and his wet open mouth came toward hers. She shrank against the stone, denying what her eyes and body told her was the truth. It couldn't be! It had to be a nightmare. She was in the cathedral! Only moments ago she had been with twenty-five people, a tour group! Now she was part of some horribly fantasy. Tourists did not get attacked in the churches of Paris! She closed her eyes and tried to make the image of his eyes and face vanish. The hand pried between her legs.
This time, the scream broke through her fright. It echoed over and around them, bouncing off the thick walls, sliding down to circle and rise again. She wasn't even aware of it until she saw the look on his face.
"Sacre Dieu!" He jerked back as though she had struck him.
The scream keened in the stillness and finally wound out to a soft sob on Darla's lips. The man moved away and his face darkened with surprise and anger. For a moment, she thought he was going to run in panic, but then his expression changed subtly and she was afraid again. He smiled cruelly and moved toward her once more. With horror, she realized they were alone in the huge church. The tour group had gone, and no other visitors had entered. No one had reacted to her scream at all. No one except the man who was bending toward her again.
The wet red lips gleamed like hot marble. She could see the tip of his tongue behind the even white teeth. It wiggled obscenely, inviting and threatening. She shook her head and tried to wipe away the horror.
Then she could feel his warm breath blow across her nose and mouth. His dark eyes, veiled behind the partially closed lids, stared into hers. His moist mouth clamped onto hers, his tongue spearing between the lips she tried to keep closed. She struggled, fighting him off, but he was too strong for her. His arms circled her and he pulled her roughly to his body. One hand went immediately to her leg and slipped under the cloth of her skirt, seeking the warm flesh of her thigh. Panic welled in Darla and her head spun with dizzying black whirlpools of panic. She was being sucked down, down, into the blackness. Nausea filled her, she could not hold to the edge of sanity. Her mind blacked out and she screamed Win's name in the silent void.
She was only dimly aware of what happened next. She felt the man jerk away from her violently. She heard the dull thud of flesh against flesh, bone against bone. She felt the cool air bathe her fevered face where the rough stubble of the man's beard had scratched her cheek and chin. Then she heard the soft curse that was somehow not out of place in the ancient cathedral.
"Goddamn bastard!"
She opened her eyes. The man who had attacked her lay sprawled on the floor. Standing over him was another man, a stranger. She looked at them, not understanding, yet knowing that she had been rescued. The man on the floor lifted his head slightly and raised his hand to his jaw. An ugly bruise had already formed and his face was swelling rapidly. The man over him nudged him with the toe of his black shoe.
"Get up and get out of here before I finish you off!" The threat was cold and definite.
The man on the floor edged away from them, sliding his body along the marble like a snake, his eyes on the man over him. When he was out of reach, he scrambled to his knees, then to his feet and ran down the balcony.' In a few seconds, he vanished down the stairs. The sound of his shoes clumping on the stone died in the distance.
The other man looked at Darla. "Are you all right, Miss?"
She nodded, her hand still clutching her throat in the panic that would not yield completely. She tried to smile, but her face was stiff. The man was tall, over six feet. His sandy hair and gray eyes hypnotized her. Thoughts of Win filled her mind.
Win had this color hair, the same intent gray eyes that sent shivers through her. She breathed heavily through her mouth and tried to calm her pounding heart.
"I heard you scream." He was looking at her with a worried frown.
He did not look like Win at all, except for the superficial resemblance of size and coloring. The shock began to wear off. "Thank you," she whispered through her dry lips.
He smiled. "You wouldn't think that even a creep like that would have the guts to try such a damn fool thing in a church! I should have knocked him senseless."
"No." The thought of violence made her shudder. "I shouldn't have strayed away from the group. It was my mistake."
He grinned easily. "Okay, let's forget it. You sure you're okay?"
She bobbed her head in quick motion.
"Come on then, I'll see you get back okay."
"That's not necessary." The words sounded foolish in her own ears.
It was his turn to shake his head. "Look, I'd never forgive myself if I left and you didn't find your group again. Where were they headed next, do you know?"
She looked away and her face flushed. "I didn't want to be with them," she admitted softly. She looked back to him. "This is the first time I've ever been on a tour like this. It's deadly. All those chattering women and camera-toting men!"
He laughed softly. "So you wanted to go off on your own."
She bit her lip and nodded.
"Okay, come on, I'll take you to lunch and then-what? You name it. The Louvre? Eiffel Tower? What is your pleasure?" He watched her with a smile on his lips.
She blushed again. "Oh, please, you don't have to-"
"I know, but I want to. There's nothing to worry about. I shall show you the sights, exactly what you want. No strings attached, no conditions. I was going to spend the day on the attractions, anyhow. We might as well see them together. Then I shall leave you back at your hotel all safe and sound. That will be that." His smile was easy and confident. "Come on, I won't take no for an answer."
He reached out and took her hand to pull her to her feet. Her knees were weak but she managed to stand up after a moment. "I-"
"No, I don't want to hear it! I've made up our mind!"
She had to laugh at his mock-serious expression. She let him guide her along the balcony and down the stairs. Outside, the sun was warm and bright. It made her feel better. He took her arm gently and poked at her. "Want to walk or shall I get a cab?"
"Walk. It's lovely."
"Fine. We'll go where the streets lead us. Come on."
She fell in step beside him and was surprised at her own acceptance of his friendship. Maybe it was the casual resemblance to Win that made him so safe, so easy to trust. All the panic that had filled her back at the church when the other man made his crude advances vanished. She was back on an even keel, balanced on the tightrope.
They walked, crossing the arched bridge that spanned the river, following twisting streets, until they came to a small cafe. He led her to a table on the sidewalk and gestured for the waiter. He spoke to the man in fluent French that surprised her for some reason. She had imagined him a tourist like herself, yet he spoke like a native.
It wasn't until the wine and the meal arrived that they began to talk. Neither of them gave more than a very brief sketch of their backgrounds, but she learned that he taught school in Chicago. He had classes in both French and history. So much for his language fluency. This was his second trip to Paris. His summer vacation from the high school where he taught. His name was Jim Rogers.
He coaxed information from her in bits and pieces. She told him about her job in the insurance office, about the reason for the tour. She only mentioned that she had been widowed. She couldn't bring herself to go into any details on Win or the heavy hurt and longing that still churned inside her. She looked away as she mentioned the breakdown and shock that followed his death. The pigeons strutted and pecked at the crumbs on the sidewalk. Memories chipped at her heart and mind, and she pushed them aside. She could not let herself be swamped by the heady tide of emotion that came with such thoughts. She had to begin the new life Jean always talked about. She had to at least let go of the unrealistic part of the one she could not bring back.
After lunch, they went sightseeing. He knew his way around the city, and he talked easily of the places and things they looked at. She did forget the pain and fear that had marked the flight over and the first ventures out with the tour group this morning. For the first time in a very long time, she felt at peace.
And keeping his promise, he brought her back to the hotel without making any demands on her. She was almost surprised when he smiled and said good-bye in the lobby. Every man she had spent time with since Win's death, and there had been very few, seemed to think that widowhood somehow made her a prime candidate for promiscuous sex. Gratefully, she said good-bye and turned to leave.
He touched her arm. "It was fun. Thanks, Darla. Don't be too surprised if I call you in an hour or a day and invite you to have dinner with me."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and made his way through the lobby and out onto the street. She watched until he was out of sight. Then, very slowly and almost sadly, she went up to her room.
CHAPTER TWO
Darla flung herself across the bed. She was tired. The afternoon had passed quickly, yet they had gone many places. She closed her eyes and thought about the young man who had escorted her. He was pleasant, and she had been able to talk with him readily. This surprised her. It had been a very long time since she had been comfortable with any man ... not since Win.
The thought of her dead husband overwhelmed her like a rushing tide. The empty longing filled her. She rolled onto her belly and pressed her face into the cover. An image of the horrible man in the church rose behind her eyelids. The pain she had felt then returned to gnaw at her belly. She sobbed and tried to push the ugly thoughts away. She could not be sexually excited! It was impossible. Such a crude and vulgar approach could only make her ill. She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her. She rocked slowly, waiting for the eddies of hot pain to subside. She kicked off her shoes and pulled the coverlet over her. After a while she fell into troubled sleep.
The trouble was sex. Even in the dream she could not escape it. The past came alive and she was with Win on their wedding night. They had just entered the motel room and stood looking at each other shyly.
"Mrs. Winston Sayer," Win said softly.
She smiled. "Oh, Win."
"Come here," She moved into his waiting arms. He pulled her to him and lowered his lips to hers. At first the kiss was gentle and shy, but it warmed quickly. Their mouths opened of mutual accord, and Win's tongue speared between her teeth. She felt the sudden hot moistness of it on her own tongue, and shivers raced along her spine. She clung to him with frightened need. He had been patient with her during their courtship, treating her gently, never forcing the desire that grew steadily between them. It was as though he knew that sex might frighten her if he pushed too fast. Even now after going together for over a year, she was scared. She wondered briefly if she would have found the courage to marry him if he had not been leaving again in two days. His unit was being sent overseas, and although she had endured the five months he'd already been away, she was afraid she would die without him now. When he proposed, she said yes and he whisked her off before she had a chance to change her mind.
The kiss became demanding and hot. Win's arms tightened and she could hardly breathe. His hands worked along her back, finding the curve of her shoulder and waist. He pulled her blouse loose from its mooring at the waistband of her skirt and his fingers caressed her flesh.
The touch was electric and her entire body quivered as the current jolted through her. His tongue spoke to hers with urgency. Then his palms were on her flesh, rubbing and kneading the warm skin and firm muscles. Darla moaned softly.
Win broke the kiss and looked down at her. Through half-closed eyes, she watched him. And listened. "My God, Darla, do you know how long I've waited for this moment?"
She bit her lip, not knowing if he really expected an answer. He kissed her again briefly and then backed up. His hands began to work at the buttons on her blouse, and again she shuddered with anticipation.
"Oh, Win, I'm-" She couldn't manage the words.
"Scared?" he finished for her.
She nodded.
He smiled. "Don't be. You're my wife now, and we're going to have a lifetime together. A lifetime of moments like this. A lifetime of each other and sex."
She felt the panic swell in her chest. She had been brought up in such a puritanical home, sex had never been mentioned or explained. The sweet mystery was almost a hidden wonder. A wonder that was now going to be explained.
His hands skimmed the blouse back over her shoulders. She moved her arms to let it slip off. Then he bent forward and kissed the high mountain of one breast where it was pushed up at the top of her bra. His lips on the sensitive flesh made her moan. He smiled, and moved his hands to her back to unhook the fasteners of the bra. She held her breath until the cloth came free and he pulled it away.
"God! I knew they'd be beautiful!" He almost whispered the words. He laid his hands to the globes that hung before him and lifted their weight. His fingers were gentle but firm. Darla could not move. His hands cupped and stroked the white flesh of the domes, finding the sunken pools of the nipples in their coral beds. He caught the tiny unawakened buds of the nipples between his fingers and rolled them until she felt the stirring of some new excitement in them. She could feel them harden and begin to jut out. She wanted to tell him how it felt, how good it felt, but she couldn't. Her throat was a tight knot of new desires that she could not ignore.
He used one hand to unhook her skirt and pull down the zipper. The cloth slipped down and he pushed it free of her hips. It fell to the floor in a puddle, but she made no move toward it. His other hand held the breast, fondling it and playing the new game she found so enjoyable. It seemed like a very long time before he moved again. He bent forward and swept her off her feet and into his arms. He was breathing hard, gasping through clenched teeth. He laid her on the bed and came down beside her in the same motion to capture the peak of her breast in his mouth. He sucked and licked it hard.
Darla gasped. Trails of fire shot through her, starting at the point of contact of his mouth but rocketing into her belly and loins. Win pressed one hand to her belly and moved it over her panties and slip in circular motions. The heavy pressure eased the pain but brought a new one to replace it.
The next few moments passed so quickly that even in memory she could not sort them. They were one wondrous blur of need and new excitement. Win stripped off her half slip and the white nylon panties beneath it. She recalled the cloth rolling down slowly over her hips, but his hot breath across her naked flesh wiped out anything but its fire. Her head was raised on the pillow and she watched him press his face into her belly. His lips kissed and his tongue tasted. Darla felt warm and wet between her thighs. Win felt it too, with his fingers.
His hand slipped along her legs, exciting the soft flesh and working between the legs. She moved for him, spreading her feet and letting his hand find the moist haven of her crotch. The fingers hovered, then rubbed into the tight curls of pubic hair and between the thick folds of erotic flesh. It was the first time anyone had ever touched her private parts. With a suddenness that startled her, Darla found herself wanting him. Desperately and totally. The need took over and erased her fear. She put her hand to his head and stroked his hair.
He groaned and kissed his way down to her crotch. She spread her legs wider for him and he put his lips to the wet lips of her vulva. She almost screamed with the shock of delight that washed over her. Then his tongue was probing and poking, darting with a quick flurry of excitement at the dripping wetness. It stabbed into the flesh, between .the layers, onto her clitoris. She twisted her body to push herself hard to him. There was no fear left now, only need. And pain, the hard knot of white heat that filled her belly and sent darts of fire down her legs.
"Oh, Win!" The words floated over his head and he pressed harder into her womanhood. "Ahhh!" He came up abruptly. "Christ I'm so damned hot! Baby, I gotta have you now!" He got to his feet and began pulling his clothes off. Darla watched in wide-eyed fascination. His bare chest first, then the line where his suntan ended and the pale hips came into view. He yanked his shorts down over the huge bulge between his legs. Instantly, his ripe sex organs shot into view, Darla gasped. She had not allowed herself to speculate as to what he would really look like. Somehow, she had imagined sex as taking place in a dark room, under covers. But now he stood next to her in naked splendor. His penis was a ramrod, stiff and very dark, poking out from his body as though it were reaching for her. It looked very long and very thick. The thought of it inside her made her hurt anew. Below the jutting organ, his balls swung with his movements. Their skin was very dark and looked lined and rough. She wet her lips and her breath caught in her throat.
He bent forward and took off his shoes and socks. Then he climbed onto the bed. All the time, her gaze was riveted to the heavy hanging sex organs that were so demanding of attention.
"I'll be as gentle as I can, baby, but I'm so fucking hot I gotta get up in you!"
It was the first time he had ever used that word with her, and she was surprised to find that she was not shocked. She would have been had she heard it elsewhere, but here and now it fell easily on her ears and mind. She accepted it. She accepted him.
He climbed over her thighs and balanced himself between her legs. "Put your knees up a little," he instructed gently.
She did what he wanted.
He sucked air into his lungs and pushed forward. He aimed the hard shaft toward the golden haven of hair. He pulled the heavy labia apart with his fingers and gasped at the sight of the wet glistening flesh under the matted wiry curls. He had waited a long time, sometimes not so patiently, for this moment. Now he had all he could do not to plunge into her and hump himself to his climax. He forced himself to move slowly. She was a virgin, and even though she was hot now, he knew he could easily scare her again. And the last thing he wanted was to have to stop and play games. Not when he was so damned hot and hard.
He touched the end of his prick to the slippery wetness. He felt her whole body quiver. The heat of her cuntlips seared at his pounding flesh, and the first stirring drops of fluid oozed from his cock and met her wetness. He pressed it into her.
The force of the huge organ sliding between her cunt folds made Darla's inside chum with white heat. The smooth long organ moved between her hot wet lips of love slowly, inching forward. Win was intent on watching his own progress, body into body. She was intent on watching him. And feeling him.
Then he lifted his head and said something that came out as a garbled moan. With that, he let his weight fall onto her, and his penis drove hard into her belly. She felt the ripping sting of her hymen as he popped it. She wanted to cry out with the sudden sharp pain, but he followed it too closely with complete penetration into her cunt. The ecstasy wiped away any other thoughts. Her legs moved around him and tried to clamp him to her.
"Aaaggghhh!" It was like a drowning man's cry. Win felt the hot swamping juice begin to pour from her vagina and set fire to his need. What he had planned as a slow and easy initiation for her into the rites of sex became a wild passion that he could not control. Her virgin cunt sucked him deeper and deeper into the abyss of its growing need.
She was gasping for breath, unable to tell him how she felt or what she wanted. But he seemed to know, and he began to move inside her with hard, heavy strokes. The swollen flesh of his penis filled her, and their blood pounded in matched beat. Darla lost conscious thought of everything but the new fire that filled her. She wanted him, she wanted the presence of his body, she wanted to receive and be filled. Her own pressure rose to a screaming pitch and she heard the words fill the room as though they came from a long distance.
"Ohhh, Win! Win! Yesss! Please! Oooohhhh! Mmmmm!"
He pounded his hard column into the hole she opened to him. He felt the tightening of her belly and knew she was ready for her first orgasm. His sweet virgin Darla was going to come. And so was he!
He felt the sweat dribble down between his shoulder blades and he knew his climax was near. He struggled to breathe as he fucked into her harder and faster.
Then in a blaze as violent as a dozen spotlights turned on at once, they came. Win's hot load of semen spurted out, first a small warning wad, then the whole hot heavy load. He felt it sear through his hard pounding prick and fill her cunt. He dove into the wetness again and again.
As soon as the first spatter of boiling oil hit her vagina, Darla's orgasm began. Her uterus tightened, squeezed and set off the series of secretions she had never felt before. The flow of her juices came in spurts at first. Then as his heavy load of love juice washed over her cunt walls, she went off all the way. She rose and fell with the pitching waves of delight that filled her. Each one carried her to a height of fulfilled need, let her down slowly, only to quickly pull her up again and let her ride another crest.
She heard the cries, the whimpers of pleasure but she did not know she made them. Her breath tore from her lungs, bringing the passion of her belly with them, escaping and dying to leave room for new ones to follow. She tingled all over as huge rippling waves of lust and love filled her. She had never known a moment like this, and she could not let it go.
Eventually, their bodies slowed. Win was dripping with sweat but he didn't even notice. His wedding night was everything he had hoped for, and virgin Darla surpassed his wildest dreams. He almost wished he too could have waited for this night to claim his first orgasm, but he had felt the pressures of need too long ago. The fact that Darla believed him as inexperienced as she didn't bother him either. Maybe some day he would tell her, but not now.
He stopped and lowered himself carefully onto her nude length without extracting his deflated prick from her cunt. He pressed his face to her neck and kissed her ear. "Darla, darling."
"Oh, Win."
"Was it good?"
"Oh, Win!"
He smiled into her neck and kissed her again. "It was wonderful for me, baby. God, it was wonderful!"
"I was so scared."
He rubbed his hairy chest against her naked tits. "Are you now?"
"No, no. I'm not scared now."
Darla woke up with a start from the dream. Her legs were wet with the secretions which had poured out in response to the vivid replay of her first night with Win. The overwhelming sense of loss filled her again. She began to cry. She was scared, terribly scared of facing the future without him.
CHAPTER THREE
Darla lay for a long time trying to sort the past from the present. She told herself she was overreacting to the scene this morning. The man's attempts to molest her at the cathedral this morning had set her nerves on edge, and even the pleasant afternoon with Jim Rogers had not calmed them completely. That was why she had dreamed of Win. All her sexual impulses were Win-oriented, Win-directed. There would never be anyone but him in her life. There never could be.
She wiped at the trail of tears on her cheeks. She had to stop this. She had cried enough back home; she didn't have to indulge herself here in Paris. For what this trip was costing her, she should get more out of it than lonely tears. She had to at least try to enjoy herself.
She sat up and sniffled. Then she got up from the rumpled bed and went into the bathroom to run cold water and splash it over her face. She didn't hear the phone ringing until she shut off the water and reached for the towel.
Drying her face, she returned to the bedroom and picked up the instrument. "Hello?"
"Hello, yourself. How about that dinner?" Jim Rogers' easy tone made her heart skip a beat.
"Oh!" She wasn't sure what she should say.
"I won't take no-or oh-for an answer. You told me yourself you were tired of your tour group. Check out on them and meet me. I know a wonderful French restaurant...."
She had to laugh at his easy manner.
"That means yes, I can tell. Okay, I have a little problem here, and I can't get over to the hotel to pick you up. Do you suppose you can meet me?"
She hesitated.
"Look, I wouldn't ask if there were any other way. I'm not far away. Two blocks north of your hotel is a street called Rue Departe. Take a left on it and meet me at the little cafe that's three blocks down. Let's see, an hour? Can you make it that fast?"
She was stunned by his casual confidence that she would do as he asked. Yet even before she thought out her answer, she knew she would. There was an urgency in his voice despite the calm words, and she could not understand it nor could she refuse it.
"Yes, I think so," she said finally.
"Good. It's called Charlotte. One hour." The phone clicked. The line hummed. For several seconds Darla stared at the instrument as though she might find some explanation in it. Finally she hung it back on the hook and plopped on the edge of the bed. Strange. Why had she agreed so readily?
The more she thought about it, the more she resented the way he had made his assumptions and the way she had gone along with them.
Meet him! He asked her to dinner and didn't even have the courtesy to pick her up. And she had agreed to his ridiculous suggestion. What was wrong with her? Now she was thoroughly angry with herself. She stood up and retraced her steps to the bathroom. Well, she wouldn't go! Let him sit there and wait. She was not going to keep the date. One afternoon of his kindness did not excuse his lack of manners now.
She hung the towel and looked at her face in the stained mirror over the washbowl. Her huge blue eyes were circled with darkness, making them look even bigger and bluer than they were. She looked older than her twenty-two years, worn somehow and exhausted. Her face was framed with the unruly pale curls that had plastered themselves along her damp forehead. She brushed them back in annoyance. She used to be pretty but she was beginning to look like a hag. She sighed.
Back in the bedroom, she looked at the phone for a long time. The call, the sound of Jim Rogers' voice, was still fresh in her mind. If she did not meet him, it left only a solitary dinner or the company of the group she'd been avoiding all day. She turned and went to the closet to select a dress, still not sure which alternative she would choose.
She was never quite sure when she made the decision. But she bathed and dressed with care. Forty-five minutes later she was walking along Rue Departe.
She walked slowly, enjoying the warm air and the sweet smell of the trees that line the street. The street itself was narrow, with bright shop fronts bordering the sidewalk and many people standing outside to look at the night or to chat. She felt eyes turn to follow her, and she was embarrassed because she had taken pains to make herself attractive and now she knew she had succeeded.
The Charlotte was a small place with half a dozen tables lined along its glass front. She scanned them quickly but did not see Jim Rogers. Again, she was embarrassed because she had hurried to be on time and now he was not even here. She almost turned back. She felt uneasy all of a sudden, afraid she had made the wrong choice after all. She glanced at her tiny gold wrist watch. Two minutes early.
She eased herself between the first two tables and sat down at the small table near the comer of the shop. It was barely big enough for two, but she was out of the mainstream of traffic. Already, the tables at the far end of the sidewalk were filled and diners were chatting over wine. She shook her head when the waiter approached with a menu and a smile. She would wait a few minutes. If Jim did not come she would leave. She studied her hands on the tablecloth as the waiter backed away knowingly.
She tried to look casually at the people passing on the street, at the uneven spurts of traffic that careened down the cobblestones. She tried to keep from glancing at her watch every two seconds. She wasn't successful at any of them.
She was very nervous now and her self-confidence was gone completely. Her hands trembled and she clasped her fingers tightly in an arch. She would leave, return to the hotel. She started to get up.
She saw the figure hurrying along the street toward her and stopped. He was still in the shadows, but the stride was familiar. She watched until the figure came into the shallow pool of light beneath the street lamp.
For an instant, she could not move. It was not Jim. The too-familiar figure was someone she had never thought she would see again. The man from the church! Her mouth opened in a silent scream which switched quickly to a prayer that he would not see her. She turned and fumbled in her handbag, turning her back to the sidewalk and the approaching form. She held her breath and glanced in the plate glass to watch as he passed, Her heart pounded behind her ribs and her throat was dry and dusty.
The man scurried past without glancing in her direction. When she was sure he was gone, she turned back to the street and search for any sign of him in the encroaching darkness. She couldn't find him. Still she was frightened to set out alone for fear he might appear again. She was trembling all over. She couldn't stay here, either. Very quickly, she pushed her way through the tables and to the sidewalk. Once more she glanced in both directions to look for the man she didn't want to see. Then, with shaking steps, she started back toward the hotel. This was the same direction the man had taken. But perhaps it was better to have him in front of her where she had a chance to spot him first. The thought of his possibly coming up behind her sent new shivers of fear through her whole body. She never should have come out. It had been foolhardy and maybe even stupid. After the incident in broad daylight, in a well-known and visited cathedral, she should have known better! When would she ever learn?
The sound of her heels on the pavement was loud in her ears. All of a sudden she seemed to be alone on the quiet street. The night had grown dark, the shadows long and ominous. She was almost running.
If it hadn't been for the car passing on the street, she might have missed them. She was forced to pause on the curb and wait for the car to make its slow turn onto the avenue. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of the two men standing in the sheltered doorway across the street. At first they were two shadows, meaningless except for the element of surprise. Then as the car's headlights swept upward, she saw the faces.
The man from the church and Jim Rogers.
She stood, mouth open, string. The lights swept past and the doorway was bathed in shadows again. But she had seen too clearly to be mistaken. Jim Rogers was talking earnestly to the other man. And the man had handed him a small flat package in that brief instant of light.
For a second, Darla poised on the curb. Then without thinking, she plunged forward again and hurried down the street. She was badly shaken by the sight of the two men, the two she had thought were strangers. The man who had saved her and her attacker. She tasted the fear in her mouth and couldn't move her cottony tongue. What a fool she'd been! She had actually believed Jim Rogers, been taken in by his false charm, impressed by his gentle manners. So much so that she had agreed to meet him on this out-of-the-way street! If she had indeed met him, what would have happened? She shuddered to think about it.
She turned the corner and was on the well-lit main thoroughfare. She slowed to a walk and tried to catch her breath. She was safe now; the danger was behind her on the dark street. She would be at the hotel in a few minutes. Tomorrow, she would stay with the tour!
She took the elevator to her room so she could compose herself before entering the dining room. She was amazed at her reflection in the glass. She was pale and wide-eyed again, as though she had seen a ghost. She shook two aspirin from the small bottle on the shelf and swallowed them with water. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and breathed deeply and evenly for several minutes.
She felt better now. It was over. She was lucky it had ended as well as it had, but it was over. She was all right. She would be all right from now on.
She got up and picked up her purse again. She was halfway to the door when the rap came.
She froze in her steps, eyes trying to pierce the thickness of the wood. The knock was repeated.
On the balls of her feet, she moved to the panel. "Yes? Who is it?"
A soft voice mumbled something she did not catch.
"Who?"
The voice did not raise but she was sure she caught the words, tour director.
She unfastened the lock and opened the door an inch to look out. She didn't have a chance to look. The door slammed into her body, catching her off guard and throwing her back into the room. She stumbled and caught the edge of the dresser to keep from falling.
Jim Rogers rushed into the room and closed the door quickly behind him. He slipped the bolt in place before he turned to her.
She cowered against the edge of the dresser and stared at him in terror. "What do you want?" The words were a rough, dry rasp in her throat.
He seemed to be listening for a sound outside the door. When he answered, his voice was low. "Hey, don't look so scared. It's okay."
She stared at him. He lured her onto a dark side street, didn't keep their appointment, then broke into her room! And he stood there telling her everything was all right!
"Get out of here or I'll scream," she warned him.
"Take it easy."
"I'm not fooling!" She opened her mouth as though to carry out the threat. But he was too quick for her. In a single bound he was across the space between them and pressed his hand to her mouth to cut off any sound.
"Shhh!" He scowled at her. "For God's sake, will you listen to me!"
She struggled against him but he was strong than she and the motions were futile. He had one arm around her waist, half supporting her while the other pressed her face. She could hardly breathe. Finally she stopped struggling.
"Promise not to yell?" His dark expression told her it was a warning, not a question.
She nodded against his palm. She felt the pressure loosen and finally he pulled his hand away.
She licked her lips and tried to wash away the fear. The taste was too strong.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly. "Believe that?"
Very slowly, she nodded.
"Good." He smiled but she could not respond. "I was late. I asked at the restaurant and the waiter said you'd left."
"I-" Her tongue was too thick for speech. She was hypnotized by the haunting gray eyes, reminded again of Win. She began to shake.
"Hey, it's okay, don't be scared! I can explain."
But she could not control the shaking any more than she could the sobs that began deep inside her and erupted like spurting lava from a very small volcano. They burst into the quiet room and swirled around the two figures. Jim looked down at her, trying to give her comfort with his glance.
The sobs came more rapidly and tears filled her eyes and overflowed. Very gently, he leaned to her and touched his lips to hers in a soft kiss. She sobbed, hiccupped, sobbed again. Then her lips found the ready warmth of his and she kissed him back.
For seconds they clung together lightly, the kiss almost a breath between them. The gray eyes were staring through her soul, and Darla moaned softly. Then the pressure of his mouth increased on hers, and her lips came alive under the soft moving flesh.
She opened her lips to his plea, and he -rimmed them with his tongue. She answered with her own tongue, darting and spearing it into his mouth, teasing across his teeth and beyond, searching and finding his oral organ. His grip on her body tightened and his other hand came around her waist to embrace her ribs.
She did not struggle away from him now. Everything had changed in the instant of the kiss. She wanted him, desperately and wholly. She raised her arms and clamped his head tight to her face, not willing to let him go even a breath away. She pressed her body against his, the full length of her breasts, belly and thighs on his warmth. He was Win. He was man. He was love. He was here.
And she knew then in that moment, that she would not run away from what came next.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jim's hands roamed her body, touching and tantalizing her flesh. She felt the rushing tide of need and tried to struggle against it in a perfunctory way. Emotionally, she was too far gone to make any headway, but her conscience made the attempt on an intellectual level. But the physical power of the man who held her was too much. She gave herself completely to his embrace.
His mouth spoke words of encouragement to hers, coaxing her tongue and exciting it. She could barely breath. Her breath was a caged animal in her throat, clawing and struggling to find release. His arms squeezed her, his hands pressing his desire through her clothing and making her flesh sting. He pulled her hips hard against him and she felt the bulge of his sex organs at her crotch. Sudden memory of Win came to her. Not the sad memory of loss but the urgent memory of need. The frustration and desire she had buried in her for these past years surfaced and broke out. She pressed her crotch to the organs he offered and was rewarded with their instant pressure in return. They seemed to be growing to fill the cavity her body formed, filling and pressing to her thighs and pubic area. She groaned softly.
"You're coming on strong, baby," Jim whispered at her ear. His tongue flicked across her earlobe and shivers danced down Darla's spine.
She was still having trouble with her breathing. She buried her face in his shoulder for a moment and tried to find a way to answer. She didn't have to bother. He answered for her.
"Come on, let's do it right." He led her to the bed.
Like Win, she thought.
He grinned at her and began unzipping the side zipper of the yellow linen dress she wore. She stood very still and watched him. Her eyes were hungry and expectant. She lifted her arms and let him take the dress off. He pulled the slip after it in a quick arc. Darla was surprised to find that she was coated with a thin film of perspiration. Her brain refused to function, to define its cause. Fear? Or need? She shivered as he reached behind her to unhook her bra.
Then, like Win, he lifted the twin breasts carefully and looked at them. She caught her lip between her teeth.
"Mmm, they are something!" Jim said. He moved his hands to the peaks of the breasts and squeezed until the rosebud nipples burst into bloom. He captured the popping peaks and rubbed them between his thumbs and forefingers.
Darla made a whimpering sound and he looked up at her face, searching her eyes for a moment before he spoke. "You've been living like a nun since your husband died, haven't you!" It wasn't as much a question as a statement.
Dazed, she nodded.
"You're damned near a virgin!"
She could not even nod this time. The truth was too painful, her hot desire too strong.
He smiled and began to pull her half slip and panties down in a single motion. He knelt to finish the job, and when he had, he brought his face to her belly. His lips were hot and hard at her navel, his tongue probing into the soft cavity of flesh, his hands moving around her to cup her buttocks and bring her tight to his eager mouth. He kissed his way down to the edge of her triangle of pubic hair, golden and curled.
Darla moved in a trance. She looked down at the top of his head, then put her hands to it and pressed him closer to her body. He sat back on his heels so his face moved down in line with her crotch. Without being told, she moved her feet apart to form a separation between her thighs. He moved right in.
The lashing tongue probed in the nest of hair, seeking and finding the thick erotic lips of flesh hidden under it. Darla gasped as the fiery dart struck the small outcropping flesh of her clitoris. Immediately her body response brought the soft button to attention. It swelled under his tongue's ministrations, filling with her building violence and sending shock waves of delight through her torso. She clutched his head frantically and tried to tell him her need. She was breathing through her mouth, short gasping thrusts of air that kept time with the beating pulse of her excitement.
The tongue dove between the full lips of her vulva. She cried out softly. His hands curved over her ass and moved her back so her legs were pressed against the edge of the bed. He lifted his face for a second and pushed her back, supporting her weight partly as she fell across the spread. He immediately pushed her knees apart and put his face between her open thighs.
Darla concentrated on breathing as she stared at the ceiling. She could not think or speak. She was on fire from his mouth and hands. She was beyond anything but the flames burning inside her. She felt his hot tongue reach out again and touch her vaginal folds. She shivered.
"You have a gorgeous cunt, baby. You shouldn't keep it so well hidden." With that, he speared his tongue into it again and used his fingers to hold the heavy fleshy folds open so he could lick at the crevices and tease her clitoris. In her belly, Darla felt the hot spurting secretions begin. She twisted harder onto the tongue and hands.
His movements got faster and she began to writhe in agony as the hot pain grew inside her. In a few moments, this stranger had wiped away more than two years of controlled compromise. She could no longer tell herself she did not need or want sex. She wanted it desperately!
The tongue beat its erotic tattoo inside her and she was swept upward on a heady wave of passion. The pressure in her guts exploded, and she clamped her thighs tightly to the head between them and arched her back. Her hips pounded up and down frantically as she was caught in the tidal wave of orgasm.
Her cry came from beyond her soul, and burst in the room. It lingered and kept beat with the wild motions of her hips and ass as Jim sucked her off quickly. He gulped down the hot spurting love juice her cunt poured out to him, licking and lapping all traces of it from her overheated body. When she finally began to slow down, he moved up. He shoved his fingers up the wet hole he'd just sucked and began rousing her again. He bent over her face and grinned at her.
"Nice?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"We're just beginning." His fingers worked inside her with quick strokes designed to excite her and keep her at fever pitch.
Darla was dazed and helpless. Just beginning. She already had a climax and it seemed impossible that she could come again. With Win it had been once each of the two nights they'd been together. Two orgasms in her entire life. And now this man, this stranger, was promising to give her that, or more, in one evening!
The fingers danced inside her, plying at the thick juicy walls of her cunt, digging into the pulpy mass and coaxing out new flows of secretions. "Like that?" he asked softly.
Again she could only nod. Her throat was a tight ball of fire that came from deep inside her. The need she had suppressed so long filled her now, starting where his hand touched her erotic flesh but mushrooming and spreading through her body. Her hips had begun to pump again and she realized she was on the brink of a second orgasm.
"Let it go, baby! Let it go!" He bent forward and kissed her hard and opened-mouthed.
It was all she needed. The second bomb exploded in her uterus and she rode the new wave of excitement to its glorious end. She gasped and whimpered, trying to tell him all the things she could not say.
He screwed his hand into her wet cunt and played in the soft pulpy mass. She moaned against his lips and he kissed her again, long and hard. She was on fire now, and he wanted to keep her that way. When she finally slowed her frantic motions, he looked at her.
"You stay right here, honey. I'm gonna get my clothes off now. I'm so damned hard for you I can't wait any more."
She watched as he backed off the bed and began to undress. Her hungry eyes followed each motion as he unzipped his slacks and slipped them off. The huge hard bulge of his shorts held her gaze while he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over the chair near the bed. She flicked a quick glance at the tight curls of golden hair on his chest, but then he began to pull down the shorts, and her eyes went back to the treasure he was about to uncover. She remembered seeing Win for the first time. Now the pressure built in her chest and her heart pounded wildly.
The white shorts moved down and she glimpsed the line of shadow where his pubic hair was. She wet her lips. The cloth jerked over the stabbing organ, making it bounce into view. She bit her lip. The cloth slid down his thighs and she saw the swaying heavy balls of his scrotum beneath the jutting cock. She tasted her own blood. He quickly bent to yank off his shoes and socks. Then he climbed back onto the bed, kneeling beside her so his sex organs hung between them. She whimpered and her breasts heaved with the passion she could not control.
"Ever sucked a cock, baby?"
Her head moved from side to side in slow motion. He moved up close to her face. "Open your mouth."
She did what he told her, unable to resist or protest. He bent his body so the glistening tip of the swollen organ approached her. She stared at the tiny slit in the ruby-red head and the drop of moisture that glazed it. Her tongue flicked out. He pressed the cock to it. She tasted the salty hot fluid and her lips widened as he pushed forward quickly.
The hard core of the organ under the velvet skin made her mouth eager to hold it. She closed her lips around it and he pushed until the smooth head popped from the sheath and touched the back of her throat.
"Easy, baby, easy," he crooned as she grew more excited and tried to swallow him whole.
She struggled to breathe. Gently he worked the stiff rod in and out on her loving tongue. She was only faintly aware that he had once more grabbed her breast and was kneading it firmly with his hand. All she knew was the burning fire that was out of control inside her. She sucked harder.
"Christ!" He yanked back and pulled away from her teeth and lips.
"No...." she protested, and tried to pull his body back to her.
"Hey, slow down, slow down! Jeez, what a wildcat you turned out to be!" He grinned and slid out of her reach. He flung one leg over her thighs and straddled her. "I'm gonna sink it right up your cunt where it will do the most good. You can suck me off another time, but now I want to fire my load inside you."
She heard her breath rasp from her throat as he slithered the wet organ to her cunt. The breath hung above her waiting for another to push it aside. When the gleaming tip of the cock pushed into the silky folds, she breathed again. Then she began panting. The slippery wetness of her own body sucked the heavy blood-filled organ into the waiting cunt. He braced himself on his hands close to her tits and stabbed deep into her.
Her eyes were Wide with delight.
"You like it?" he asked, grinning.
Her head bounced in a quick motion of agreement.
Jim was carried away by her excitement and by his own need. His legs ached with the pressure of the load of semen that had built up behind his pounding cock. His balls felt like they were ready to split open. He humped harder into the wet canal.
"Here it comes, baby, here it comes!" The warning was only a second ahead of his ejaculation. The hot lava poured from his cock and filled her pussy, making it hotter and wetter. He felt the immediate flow of her secretions, her climax to meet his.
Darla knew only the fire of her own need that was met and quenched by the violent thrusting penis inside her. She felt his explosion, felt the hot liquid bubble and boil in the depths of her uterus. The force of it sent her spinning into a dark void of ecstasy. The ripples exploded into huge waves of delight as her orgasm spread through her belly and down her legs. She gasped and moaned and cried for more.
He didn't need to be coaxed, and his body slammed deep into her hot hugging tunnel. The room was filled with the noises of their wetness and the heavy breaths that tore from their lungs. It was a long time until he slowed down and finally came to rest on top of her.
She lay under his weight, still gasping with the flood of fiery delight that filled her. She was not conscious of her surroundings or of the time that had passed. When Jim raised his head and looked at her, she was almost surprised to see that it was not Win. She had become so completely absorbed in her fantasies that reality had vanished. Except that this man was still part of her body, his drained cock still inside her dripping cunt.
"Terrific, sweetheart! What a fuck!" He grinned and planted a wet kiss on her lips.
Her recoil was almost physical. He must have seen it in her eyes. He frowned at her. "What's the matter, baby?"
She ran her dry tongue over her parched lips. She could only stare at him. She was filled with horror at what she had done, how she had been carried away by her physical need, carried away enough to let this stranger invade the sanctity of Win's memory and faith. Tears welled in her eyes and overflowed silently. She did not answer him.
Slowly, he climbed off her naked body. He sat beside her and shook his head. "Look, kid, don't tear yourself apart. You did what you wanted to do. Don't blame yourself now."
She listened to his words numbly. She had wanted him, very much. Yet she couldn't accept her own displayed passion. It was a betrayal, and guilt overwhelmed her.
"Look," he said softly. "I have the feeling you want to be alone. I came up here to ask you to have dinner with me, to make up for being late at the restaurant."
She stared. , "Want to go out to eat? I'd like to take you "
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
"Okay, I'll get out of here, then. Have yourself a good cry or whatever it takes to get rid of those crazy emotions you're all wrapped up in now. I'll call you tomorrow and we can start over again."
He moved from the bed to the bathroom and she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the water running. When he returned she heard him move about as he dressed, but she lay limp and numb where he had left her. The tears still ran down her cheeks but there were no sobs to accompany them.
She felt him come close and lean over her. She held her breath. His lips touched hers very lightly and he said, "I'll call you. And while you're thinking, consider the fact that it was great. You have a beautiful body, and loving is as natural to it as breathing. You're a great fuck." He kissed her again. The bed creaked. Footsteps crossed the room. The door opened and whispered shut. He was gone.
She lay very still for a long time. The silent tears wet the bedspread under her head in a wide circle. She tried to push his words out of her mind but they mocked her. She had enjoyed it. She couldn't deny it even to herself. Suddenly, she rolled over and buried her face in the bedclothes and let the huge sobs rack her body. She cried until she was limp with exhaustion.
Then very slowly she wiped her eyes and got up. In the bathroom she soaked in a hot tub for ten minutes then toweled herself dry. Her reflection in the mirror was gaunt and red-eyed, but the face had lost some of the empty look it had carried for so long. She leaned close and studied the image. She looked like a woman again. The robot appearance was gone. She was alive again. And Jim Rogers had done it. Jim Rogers and sex. She tried a smile and then laughed softly. It would take time to get used to the idea of living again, but she knew now that she would live-and love.
CHAPTER FIVE
Darla moved about the hotel room in wonder. She decided against going out to eat. She wasn't hungry, and she was not yet used to the new feelings that gripped her. She picked up her clothes and hung them, thinking again of how Jim had undressed her. And himself. She had moved into the haze then and not emerged until the act was over and she was satiated.
She took a nightgown from the drawer and slipped it over her head. Aimlessly, she brushed her hair with long sweeping strokes, letting the brush sweep into the air as it passed the short lengths of hair. Then she moved back toward the bed, suddenly very sleepy. She saw the package then. It lay on the floor half hidden under the edge of the bedspread. For a moment she stopped breathing. The small flat package was a screaming accusation. She had completely forgotten the brief scene she had witnessed on the side street near the restaurant! Jim Rogers and the horrible man from the cathedral! She had even forgotten the way Jim had lied and forced his way into her room. She covered her mouth with her hand and bit her lip to keep from screaming. What a fool she'd been! He had not come to ask her to dinner! But in the heat of a growing passion, she dismissed his unorthodox entry and his lies! She dismissed everything but the sexual need she allowed to build and run rampant.
She bent down and picked up the package. She held it lightly as though it might somehow sting her with new guilt. She stared at it. Whatever it was, it had prevented Jim from meeting her at the restaurant on time. And whatever it was, it somehow connected Jim to the man at the church who was supposed to be a stranger.
She tried to think back to the episode on the balcony this morning. Had Jim Rogers actually said anything that would give her a clue to the puzzle she faced now? She couldn't recall anything but the absolute horror she had felt when the man had molested her. Maybe she had only assumed Jim happened by and did not know the other man.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the flat brown package in her hand. Jim Rogers had met the man later. The could not be strangers. They had met secretly in a dark place, not by accident. And they had exchanged words and-this.
She hefted the package and felt it with her hands. Then with deliberation, she began to open it, unfastening the ends of the taped paper carefully without ripping them. If she had not seen the incident in the dark doorway, opening the package would have been the only logical thing to do after finding it on the floor. But she had seen the two men together. Her hands trembled.
She folded back the paper and lifted out the contents. She looked at it, then began to laugh. It was a paperback book, a French-English dictionary! Her relief was so great that she hugged the book to her breasts and laughed for a long time. What had she expected? She really didn't know. But a harmless book, a dictionary. Maybe Jim had even bought it for her! He was fluent in French and had no need for it himself. Of course, that was it. She shook her head and smiled. What a fool, she was imagining all sort of things. She had lived in her world of fantasy too long. She put the book on the nightstand and crumpled the paper and tape into a tight ball and dropped it into the wastebasket. She pulled back the blanket and crawled between the cool sheets. She turned off the light and lay back. But it was a long time before she fell asleep. Her mind was full of thoughts of Jim Rogers and of how good she felt. It had been a very long time since she had felt good.
When she awoke in the morning, the glow of delight still filled her. She glanced at the tiny travel alarm clock and saw it was early. She stretched, and finally got up. She actually hummed softly as she dressed. It was good to be alive.
The telephone shrilled its bell as she put on her makeup. She ran to it quickly, and answered breathlessly. "Hello?"
"Mrs. Sayer? This is Dave Glencoe, the tour director. We missed you yesterday. I was worried about you."
"Oh," her disappointment could not be hidden. "I'm sorry, Mister Glencoe. I-" She searched for a satisfactory lie. "I didn't mean to alarm you. I met an old friend and I didn't realize I'd missed the bus. I should have called you."
"Well, as long as you're all right. We want you to enjoy yourself, of course." He didn't sound very happy at the idea she could enjoy herself someplace other than with his tour.
"It was thoughtless of me not to call, I'm sorry." She was already bored with his chatter.
"We are driving down to Corbeil this morning. You won't want to miss-"
She cut in on him. "I'm very sorry, Mister Glencoe, but my friend and I have other plans."
"But you have paid for the tour."
"Yes, I know, but I had no way of knowing I would meet someone from home. I will talk with you again tomorrow or the following day. And please, don't worry about me."
"Well...."
"Good-bye, Mister Glencoe. Have a nice trip." She put the phone back on its hook. She had a fleeting thought that Jim might not call, but she shook it off quickly. He would. And she wanted to see him again. She wanted to be here when he called.
She was starved. She had missed dinner last night and now it was almost eight. She would keel over if she didn't eat soon. Yet she could not bring herself to leave in case the phone should ring. She ordered breakfast from room service and stood looking out the window until it came. Then she ate quickly and eagerly.
Still the phone had not rung. It was past nine.
She was beginning to feel let down. Maybe he would not call until much later. He hadn't said when. Maybe his promise to call had been just a gesture without meaning. She hadn't exactly been joyous when he took his leave. Had she scared him off, made him feel she didn't want him to call? She shivered at the thought.
There was a soft rap at the door. She leaped up and ran to it, stopping only seconds before she flung it open, remembering her shock last night.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"Room service, for the tray, ma'am."
She let out a sigh of disappointment and opened the door.
Once again the shock bewildered her, caught her off guard. The two men were inside the room before she could move. One of them grabbed her arm and pulled her back while the other one closed the door behind them. She was too frightened to scream, and the man's hand was menacingly close to her mouth.
"You're not room-" She looked from one face to the other. She had never seen either of them. The one who held her arm twisted behind her back was medium height, dark-haired and dark-eyed. He looked French, with a dark haze of beard across his square chin. He was about forty and his narrow eyes watched her carefully.
The other man stood in front of her. He was taller and slimmer, but had the same swarthy looks. His mouth was curled in an ugly grin.
"What do you want?" Darla managed to ask in a hoarse whisper.
The taller man spoke rapidly to the other one in French. Darla couldn't understand it. The man behind her twisted her arm slightly and she whimpered with pain. She knew it was a warning and she moved quickly as he applied pressure to her back and shoved her toward the dresser.
The taller man began to search the room. He lifted her suitcase, felt the linings. He went through the clothes in the closet, the dresser, patting each thing to make sure it hid nothing. She watched in fear and anger. How dare they do this to her? She wanted to scream and fight them but she knew she could not win such a battle. She bit her lip and said only, "What are you looking for?"
She knew they spoke English, they had outside the door, but now they ignored her. The man holding her arm propelled her around the room so he could always stay ahead of the other searcher. He too felt garments, lifted purses, checked bags. But he held her arm with a firm grip as he did so.
The tall man pulled aside the bedclothes and felt under the mattress and pillows. He examined the dictionary lying on the table, flipping the pages and shaking it by the spine to check for concealed papers. Then he tossed it back and search the small drawer where Darla had put her aspirin and sleeping tablets. He opened each bottle and poured the pills out into his palm to look at them.
She was thoroughly confused and frightened now. Their search seemed endless and pointless. When it was finally over, the tall man turned to face her.
"We are sorry to inconvenience you, madam, but our search was vital. You understand?"
She shook her head, anger boiling over now. "No, I don't understand at all. Who are you and just what are you looking for?"
"My apologies. I am Inspector Bordeau of the city police. My assistant, Lieutenant Marcel."
The man behind her let go of her wrist and she flexed her arm stiffly. "Police?" She looked from one to the other. "I don't understand."
"Forgive me. We had a tip that someone in the American tour group was smuggling-" He hesitated and his eyes seemed to narrow even further. "We are required to check everyone."
"Smuggling? What in the world would I try to smuggle?" She shook her hand and tried to get the blood flowing through her cramped wrist again.
"I apologize again, madam. But it is our duty." He flicked a quick glance at the second man. "Have any strangers accosted you since you have been in our city?"
The question caught her off guard and her quick blush gave her away. "I-well, yes."
He leaned forward slightly, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet like a dancer. "Yes?"
Stumbling, she said, "Yesterday. In the church. A man-well, he, that is-"
"Please, madam, I assure you it is very important for us to know the truth." He stepped closer. "We appreciate your cooperation."
There was an edge of threat in his words. Darla started again. "A man tried to grab me and force himself on me. That's all it was. Someone came along and he ran. There was nothing more."
He was thoughtful and did not answer right away. When he did, he surprised her again. "Can you identify this man?"
"Yes, I think so."
"We will go down to headquarters and you can look at the files." He started for the door.
"Oh, please, is it really necessary?" She glanced at the phone and thought about Jim's promised call.
"I'm afraid it is. It won't take long. I'll have the lieutenant tell the desk clerk in case you're expecting messages." He watched her face and she looked away quickly.
"No, it's all right. I had some shopping...." She let the lie trail away.
She picked up her gloves and bag and followed the two men from the room. She didn't understand any of it, and she was too confused to try. Her mind was constantly wandering to Jim and it was difficult to concentrate on other things. She would look at their files, even though she knew the incident in the church had nothing to do with the matter these officers were investigating now.
Outside the hotel, they led her to a large black car and she sat between them in the back seat. A driver put the car in motion and made his way through the morning traffic.
She sat staring without seeing. The hum of noise in the street was the only sound inside the car. The two men looked ahead and did not speak to her. She kept wondering if Jim were trying to reach her. She should have left word at the desk. They were so many things she should have done and said.
She didn't notice the gradual change in the caliber of the neighborhoods through which they drove until they were on a grim narrow street flanked by ancient houses and factories. She leaned forward.
"Where are we?" she asked, suddenly alarmed at the shabby area and the almost deserted streets.
No one answered.
She looked at each of the men. They sat staring ahead as though she didn't exist. Panic welled in her breast then, beating at her ribs and tightening her throat. With a sureness born of new fear, she knew they were not going to any police station.
"Where are we?" This time it was a heavy whisper of fright.
Still they did not answer. She lunged forward and tried to grab the door handle in a frantic attempt to escape. The tall man on her right yanked her wrist so hard she cried out with pain.
"Sit back and you won't get hurt," he snarled at her.
She sat back but only out of terror. "Where are you taking me?" She recalled only too clearly now that she had not asked for any identification, no proof that they were police at all! And just as clearly she knew she had been duped. She fought back the tears that threatened. She could not resort to crying in frustration. She had to try to think. She had been stupid, and now she was trapped.
The street outside grew even grimmer. Dark windows faced the empty gutters, the dirty fronts, of buildings almost to the curb level. She looked desperately for some sign to tell her where they were.
The car stopped in front of what looked like an abandoned factory. Before the sound of the engine died, the man on her right had the door open and was standing on the narrow curb. He leaned back into the car and grabbed her arm.
"Come on." He yanked her forward and she almost pitched out on her face. The man behind her was already crowding her out of the door. They pulled her to her feet and she stumbled across the strip of cracked and heaving concrete toward a large metal door. The shorter man pressed a small black button and then found some hidden catch to free the latch and swing the door back. The other man pushed her inside.
When the door clanked shut behind them, Darla could scarcely breathe in the musty, stale air. It was so dark she could not see where they were. Fear was alive inside her.
CHAPTER SIX
The two men knew where they were. They walked quickly across the cavernous room, dragging Darla between them. When her eyes finally became accustomed to the dark, she made out a sliver of light ahead of them. It looked a long way off, but they were to it in only a few seconds. The light came from under a door.
When the door opened, Darla was blinded for a moment. She blinked and squinted as they dragged her inside the room. She stumbled forward as they let go of her arms, almost falling to the floor in the sudden loose movement. Surprise kept her tightly-coiled reflexes alive and she stood in the center of the floor looking around.
It might have been another world. She was in a room which could have been located in any fine home in Paris or anywhere else. The floor was covered with a thick shag carpet in a tawny shade of gold. Low divans, sprinkled with huge fluffy pillows and covered with thick material that looked almost like fur, were set randomly in the large room. Low tables gleamed in the indirect lighting. The whole effect was elegant yet somehow overdone. It was too perfect, like a set from a movie. It did not look lived in. Cold, despite the rich warm colors.
One of the men touched a hidden switch and a large panel slid back noiselessly to reveal a closet. They removed their jackets and hung them. Neither spoke to her.
Then the tall man walked soundlessly across the room and worked another unseen switch to make a door slide open. He entered the room beyond, and the panel slid shut behind him.
Darla stared, unable to understand any of what was happening. Her terror had built horrible images of the things that were to come as the men dragged her out of the car. And now, she was in a fancy room that in looks did not fit the images at all. Yet the feeling of horror prevailed. She glanced at the man who stood a few feet away. He was standing carelessly, almost relaxed, yet she knew he would spring alive if she tried to bolt. She could still feel the sore spot where his hand had bitten into her flesh as he had twisted her arm earlier.
What was this place? Why was she here? This whole tour had become a nightmare, a chamber of horrors in which she was trapped and could find no way out. She was mute and numb with fear.
The door opened again and the tall man motioned with his hand. The other one looked at Darla and jerked his head for her to enter. She moved like an automaton, jerking her body with conscious effort to stay in motion. Fear propelled her on leaden feet. At the door, the tall man touched her arm and guided her along a narrow corridor to another door. Then he stepped back and let her move in ahead of him.
It was a bedroom, or at least a room with a bed. A huge circular bed covered in black satin. Darla felt her throat tighten and dry. The maid behind her spoke.
"Get undressed."
She whirled and looked at him.
He laughed softly. "Do it yourself or I'll do it for you." He reached to the wall inside the door and another closet door slipped back noiselessly on its oiled runners. "Put your stuff in here."
Darla's muscles refused to move. She stood staring at the man as though he had struck her. The impact of his words had left her paralyzed with something that went beyond fear.
"Well, come on, I can't wait all day." He waved his hand toward her dress and made a flipping motion to show her what he wanted. Still she couldn't move. He advanced to her menacingly. "The games are over, girlie. Now we're getting down to business. And you'd better be quick about it if you don't want any trouble."
She opened her mouth and tried to say something, but the words jammed in her throat and died there.
He shook his head. "I only follow orders, baby. And my orders are for you to get those damned clothes off and hop onto that bed. Now are you going to do it or do you want help?" He made another move toward her and she backed away in panic.
"No!" The sound rasped from her mouth.
He smiled coldly and lifted his brows in high arches. He was waiting.
With trembling hands, she unfastened the zipper at the side of the dress and began to work it up over her body. She felt very cold and shaky as the dress left her flesh to expose her silky underwear and finally leave her standing in her slip. She avoided looking at the man even though she could feel his gaze on her.
She stepped to the closet and arranged the dress on a hanger. She stood looking into the dim interior of the closet as though she might somehow lose herself in it and never emerge.
"Come on, come on," he said impatiently.
She moved again. She slipped the white sandals from her feet and left them on the floor of the closet. Then she stepped back and fingered the slip a moment before she found the courage to pull it up. Once off, she folded it and laid it atop the small shelf in the closet. Again, she hesitated, filled with dread and a strange excitement that shocked her even more than the fear.
"You sure move slow, sister. Get the underwear off. Now!"
Darla swallowed hard and put her hands to her back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. Her fingers tangled in the elastic and the catches eluded her. She saw the small forward movement of the man near the door and almost cried out with relief as the clasps finally gave and the bra came undone. She turned away from him as she slid it off her body and down her arms. She put it on top of the slip.
The room was very quiet.
She kept her back turned to him as though it somehow protected her from his prying eyes. Yet she could feel him watching her, knew he was enjoying both the sight of her nude flesh and the obvious embarrassment she suffered. Very slowly she began to pull off the sheer panty hose. She leaned against the edge of the closet and withdrew one foot, then the other. She folded the garment and put it on the neat little pile in the closet. The white nylon panties that were now her only covering felt cold and clammy on her skin. Her palms were damp with sweat. She could not do it!
But the voice warned her of the futility of such a thought. "Come on, come on!"
She moved in a dream, a hazy fog that had no reality. She pulled the elastic down over her hips, past her crotch, down her thighs. She bent and stepped out of the legs, shook the cloth to straighten it, then folded the garment once and put it on top of the other things. She took a deep breath and stood up, staring into the dim closet in some vague hope that it would swallow her up and she would cease to exist.
The closet door began to close on her as he touched the switch again. She stepped back so she would not be hit by it. The man laughed softly and the ugly sound filled the quiet room.
"Over on the bed, baby."
She caught her lips between her teeth and was blinded by hot tears. She sensed his movement again, and forced herself to turn and move toward the bed before he could touch her. She did not look at him but she knew he was watching her closely.
At the obscene black satin bed, she hesitated again. This time he did not talk to her. He pushed her down. The pressure of his hand on her bare back was sudden and hard, and she sprawled forward onto the smooth surface of the bed. He bent over her and she felt a scream rise in her throat. But he was reaching for something above her, something attached to the curved headboard of the big bed. When she saw what it was, she was too terrified to scream.
The chain clanked and the manacle snapped around her wrist like a jaw clamping a bone. She twisted, wide-eyed with terror. He was already securing the other wrist the same way.
She whimpered. "Don't...." But it was too late. Both hands of metal were firm against her thin wrists and, when she pulled, they bit into her flesh and made her wince with pain. The man paid no attention. He moved to the bottom of the bed and reached under the shimmery black spread to bring up another cuff to fasten to her ankle.
Darla's mind whirled. It was impossible! It couldn't be real! It had to be a dream, an awful nightmare from which she would wake any moment. She tugged at the handcuffs and felt the sharp pain of reality. She was awake and this was real. She could not stop the stinging tears that coursed down her cheeks. Her heart was a lump of hot lead in her chest, pounding like an anvil under the blacksmith's blows. The man moved around and attached the final band to her other leg. She lay spread like a huge X on the target of the bed. Her mind refused to function. Refused to think of the horror that was waiting. Instinct told her what had to come next, and she recoiled from the idea even in fantasy. She had wandered into a den of madmen. Soon, very soon, she too would be insane.
She closed her eyes and tried to stave off the truth. She held her breath, dreading, yet knowing that this was only the beginning. Her mind conjured up a picture of Win, loving and kind, soft and gentle. Her torso shuddered in a huge sob.
How had any of this happened? Where had it begun? Why had these two men chosen her? It was impossible, yet it was true. She spun in the vortex of black panic. The sounds made her open her eyes finally.
Her vision was blurred by the hot tears and she had to blink to see. The second man had reentered the room and now the two of them stood near the door talking softly and looking at something the man had brought with him. Darla had to raise her head slightly to see what it was. At first, the heavy black object didn't register in her brain. When it did, she fell back on the pillow gripped by nausea. A camera.
Numbly she watched as the tall man nodded and set the camera to his satisfaction. He aimed the lens at her and she tried to bury herself in the satin bedspread. She could not escape.
The shorter man moved toward the closet, and when Darla managed to move her eyes toward him, she saw that he was undressing. Stark horror filled her, the certainty of her instincts now becoming reality. She was going to be raped. And the other man was going to film the scene!
The nausea rose in her throat and for a moment she didn't think she would be able to hold it back. Her stomach heaved with urgency and she opened her mouth and breathed deeply through it to get enough oxygen to make the sickness subside. She closed her eyes. She saw herself standing in her own living room at home, reading the telegram that the government had sent. Win was dead. Her life was over. Her world was ended. She was ill, physically and mentally. She retched and fell into a black void that held her for many months. Win was gone. Nothing worse could happen to her. Win was gone.
But something worse loomed over her now. She sensed the approach of the man even though she could not open her eyes. She felt the slight pressure of his weight against the edge of the bed near her head. She held her breath, willing herself to die, or at least to escape into the blackness that had claimed her when Win died.
But it would not come. This reality was demanding and real. The bed moved and she felt the warmth of the man's body close to her face. The voices came to her filtered through her panic and the hushed room.
"Ready?"
"Yeah. Start with her sucking it up."
"You rolling?"
"I started when she spotted you undressing. Christ, the look on her face was priceless. This is going to be a film to end all films!"
"Keep your mind on business."
A harsh laugh. "Look who's talking. Come on, get to it. We have to be finished before D.G. gets back."
Darla listened to her mind scream its panic. A hand touched her face, gently at first, then very firmly. It spread fingers to grasp her cheeks and press hard, forcing her mouth open. The bed groaned under his weight and she felt his body over her. She could not open her eyes. Something touched her lips. Something very soft and hot. It pressed into the small opening the fingers had forced.
Memory surged. Last night. Jim. "Have you ever sucked a cock, baby?"
Reality exploded. The cock touched her lips, incredibly soft and velvety. Then the tip of the organ penetrated her mouth. Her tongue moved to it like a magnet, finding the tiny slit at its head and forcing its way into it. The sudden heat it sent to her tongue shocked her, and for a moment she was back to reality, trying to pull away from the tempting offering. The man pushed his cock deeper into her mouth, and she accepted it reluctantly. It had already begun to swell as her wet tongue caressed it. She could feel it filling her mouth, demanding to be licked and sucked. Her mind fought it, but her mouth accepted it willingly. It was as though she were split in half, the Darla who knew she could never do such horrible things watching the Darla who was eager for the taste of new experiences.
The cock began to slide in and out of her hot mouth. She moaned softly and took it.
"Jeez!" It was a breath above her. Her belly tightened in a knot of lust as she closed her lips and tongue around the spearing organ. It was stiff and hard now, stabbing into her mouth with quick precision, poking far back into her throat so she had to time her breathing around it.
Vaguely, Darla was aware of a soft whirring sound near the foot of the bed. Deep in her mind, she accepted the fact that it was the camera, recording what was happening. But she was as powerless against it as she was against the probing prick that shot in and out of her hot mouth. She was only dimly aware that her body had begun to move with excitement. She knew only the heavy, heady flavor of the thing in her mouth. It was swollen mightily now, and it slipped in and out of its own sheath of skin as it dug into her warmth. The tight pain in her belly began to squeeze secretions from her vagina, and she began to feel the first wet trickle between her legs.
The man on her was breathing heavily, his bursts of air rasping over her as his body plunged to her. The feeling that filled her was a tight demanding urge. She opened her eyes.
He was right over her, blocking her vision of everything but the hard triangle of hair that outlined his sex organs. She could see the thick dark shaft, wet with her saliva, pull up for its next thrust. She moaned as it plunged again into her mouth. She struggled against the manacles, wanting to free her hands so she could grab the flopping balls that teased her from behind the cock. He plunged again, and she moaned and sucked harder.
"Christ, this is terrific, Jon! I'm getting hard just watching through the damned camera!" The voice came from somewhere beyond them but Darla could not see the other man.
The man in her mouth gurgled something that did not quite form words. She felt the quick warning of the huge thing in her mouth, and the wild flurry of excitement it brought to her guts. Then she was drowned in the hot bubbly surge of thick fluid that poured from the stiff hose in her mouth. The hot sludge poured over her tongue, filling her throat, almost gagging her as surprise caught her unprepared to swallow quickly enough. The cock beat a hard steady tempo into the slush and forced it down her throat. She worked her throat muscles quickly to keep up with it. It burned all he way down to her stomach. There it quickly sent out fingers of fire to the rest of her body. Her belly curled in a tight ball. The wetness between her legs became a flood. Unbelievably, she felt the quick spasm of orgasm in her own guts. She closed her eyes and let the waves of pleasure course through her whole body, undulating waves that left her weak and helpless in their wake.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She lay limp and exhausted when it was over. She was dimly aware of pain in her wrists where she had apparently yanked hard on the binding cuffs, but she had no memory of doing it. Her complete attention had gone to the new experience the man had forced on her, one she had never acknowledged even in imagination. Now she felt his drained prick slip out of her mouth slowly as he backed off her. Her tongue flicked at it to catch the last drops of salty semen. Then she lay gasping in short bursts, eyes still closed.
The noises in the room swirled around her. She heard the men move near the bed, heard the camera hum its obscene tune. Once she felt one of the men touch the cuff on her ankle and pull her legs farther apart. Then the fingertips traced a path up her calf and thigh, mashing eagerly into the warm flesh.
"Okay, Henry, let's get going."
"Right. Angle in from over there."
Darla listened in a cocoon of tortured disbelief. They were not finished with her yet. Her mind rebelled against the thought but her body was already responding to the probing hands between her thighs. She felt Henri open the folds of her cunt, pulling them back with his spread hands, and she knew without looking that the camera was taking close-up shots. She imagined she could feel the separate breaths of the two men on her naked flesh.
"Christ! Yeah, that's the way!"
The fingers spread and slithered along the damp flesh. She shivered in a mixture of fear and pleasure. She gave up trying to understand what was happening to her. She could not stop these two men, and they seemed in no hurry to explain anything to her. The nausea had passed and now she was keenly excited by the roaming, roving hands that touched her intimate parts. This second man, the tall one called Henri, was going to use her as he pleased. She could not stop him.
You don't want to! a small voice screamed inside her head. She closed her mind to it. Of course she wanted to! She did not want to be degraded this way, reduced to a commodity. But she had no choice.
The fingers plunged between the hot hugging lips of her cunt and swirled around in the thick juice that had collected in her vagina. She sucked air sharply into her lungs.
"She likes it." Darla did not even try to identify the voice. It didn't matter.
The fingers pushed upward, searching for some special place her body sensed but her mind did not know. They shoved and jerked into the pulpy walls, making her shudder and twist harder onto them.
"Get her face in the picture," Henri said, heavy breaths punctuating his words. "She's enjoying every second of it!"
The camera whirred closer and Darla squeezed her eyes shut tight. It wasn't true-it wasn't! A soft groan escaped her lips. It was true! She was very hot and excited, and her hips began to move on the fucking fingers in search of the promised relief she knew might come.
But the man laughed softly. "Yeah, look at her!"
Then, with a very abrupt motion, he withdrew his hand. Darla's eyes opened in shock and she almost cried out. The grinning Henri was climbing over her leg and positioning himself between her legs. Her gaze moved down his naked hairy chest to the dark band of hair above his crotch.
Stabbing outward from the deep shadowed haze was the longest penis she had ever seen. It gleamed wetly, its ruby-red head shiny with its own moisture and readiness. Under the wet film, the tiny crevice bubbled out a new drop of fluid even as she watched. He moved into the apex of her body.
Darla held her breath, biting her lip and watching his slow-motion advance.
The hot, wet tip touched her soggy flesh and she whimpered. It was like fire on fire, and huge rays of sensuous pleasure fanned out in her belly. Henri pushed his weight forward and the cock penetrated her cunt. His thumb touched the swollen nub of her clitoris and held it as he forced his prick all the way into her pussy.
"Aaaahhh!" the cry came from Darla's panting mouth, but it originated from deep inside her body. The hard hot shaft had struck home in her cunt, scoring against the top wall, filling the space completely and triggering some hidden knob that it alone seemed to know. She moaned again and wet her lips, pleading silently for more.
Henri bent forward over her and his hands went to her breasts. He lifted them and mashed them upward so the soft nipples grew turgid and sprang from their nests. Darla was only dimly aware of the camera close to her shoulder and aimed at the playing hands and the prodding prick. The only thing that mattered was the all-consuming fire that burned inside her. It swept over her in huge waves, pulling her down to begging need and then up quickly to gulping pleasure. Air tore from her lungs in great sobs as she tried to keep Henri's body in her, but he pulled back and almost out, then plunged forward again. He managed to execute his gyrations without letting go of her heavy breasts. He fondled the nipples steadily, and the pulsating excitement from them raged through her body to mingle with the excitement that came from her cunt.
She twisted and yanked harshly on the manacles that held her, unmindful of the raw flesh she was creating under the steel bands. She was crazy with need and hot lust. It was as though she had waited a long time for this crashing climax, and now time had run out.
But it was Henri who called the plays. He was not yet ready to shoot out his heavy load, not ready to finish her off. The camera whirred on. Jon moved from Darla's shoulder to her knees, aiming the lens as close to the fucking bodies as he could get it.
Finally Henri gave him the warning. "Get set. Up here. Christ! Hurry!"
Jon swung the camera so the lens viewed Darla's face and body, the sharp focus on the juncture of her pussy and the ramrodding cock Henri was pounding into her. Henri grunted once more.
"Christ, here I go!"
Darla heard the words and felt the explosion at the same instant. The spearing pile driver plunged high into her cunt, opening the inner crevice and forcing admittance. In that instant, his hot load of juice spurted up into the tiny tight passage and seared its way into her uterus. Her own thrust poured out secretions to meet it, flooding her and swamping the pounding cock until it made huge sucking noises inside her body. The sound of the two wet bodies coming together in the. violent coitus filled the room.
Darla's cry rose and fell with the overpowering rushes of ecstasy. She wanted to cling to him, to hold him in her, to savor the delight of the moment for eternity. But she could only lie beneath him and let him control the timing.
But he was in no hurry. Even after his prick was drained of its thick wad, he continued to plunge in and out of her with measured strokes, enjoying the hot bath of juice his cock was getting. Besides, Jon and the film were still watching and recording the two on the bed. Several times Darla saw the lens swing toward her face. She didn't even try to avoid it.
When Henri finally slowed to a halt, he grinned down at her. She was still panting with the exertion and excitement. She could not smile at him. The horror of what she had done was too overwhelming. But neither could she deny the absolute wonder of what had happened. Raped, and she had thoroughly enjoyed it. New horror filled her with revulsion for herself and her thoughts.
Henri climbed out of the wide V of her thighs. Her cunt felt cool when his body warmth left her. She suppressed a cry of pain.
Henri moved away from the bed and walked to Jon. The camera was off now, the room strangely silent without it. Darla watched the two naked men with fearful eyes. Her vagina was sore from the harsh thrusts and probing hands that had mauled it, but even the pain brought eddies of pleasure to her belly. She looked at the two men and their limp organs. They were through with her, for the moment at least. Now what?
Jon opened the camera and removed the small roll of film. He looked up at Henri and grinned.
"That ought to do it for now. I don't think our little lady will try anything with this stuff around." He tossed the film in the air and caught it in his palm with a laugh. Henri looked over his shoulder at Darla and laughed.
"You were damned good, baby. A hell of a lot better than I expected! I'm glad you're staying with us awhile." He chuckled and turned back to Jon. "Let's go get cleaned up. D.G. will be here any minute."
Jon snickered. "Waste of time, man. D.G. will have us fucking all over the place in ten minutes!"
They both laughed and bent to pick up their clothes from the black shag rug. A moment later the door panel slid back and they were gone.
Darla stared at the smooth wall as the panel closed and hid itself. She was alone. The room was very quiet and she could hear her heart pounding against her ribs. Who was D.G., and what did he want with her? Why? Why? Why? The question pounded in her brain. Why had the two men come to her hotel room? Why had they abducted her by trickery? Why had she been chosen out of a city full of women? Why? Why? Why?
She inched herself up on the bed to relieve some of the pressure on her wrists. They were sore and chafed, scraped raw by her frantic tugging. Her ankles were in the same condition. Her body felt sweaty and dirty, and a thick stream of juice was dribbling slowly out of her and drying on her thighs and the bedspread under her. She began to cry softly.
The torment in her mind was worse than that in her body. Over and over, she felt the harsh demanding hands and cocks and the pleasure they had brought. She tried to summon a picture of Win to her mind, to plead for forgiveness and find some solace in thoughts of him, but no image would come. It was as if the degrading sex act had somehow erased him completely from her subconscious as well as conscious mind. This hurt more than anything. She wept in private disgrace.
The minutes dragged by and she had no way to judge the passage of time. It seemed endless as she tormented herself with evil thoughts about what she had become. She wished she could die, simply vanish from existence. But she was alive. And she was chained to a black bed in an out-of-the-way place where no one would ever find her.
Much later, or at least it seemed so, the door opened again. Three people entered. The two men she recognized. Jon and Henri. The other was a woman. Darla stared at her.
The woman was tall and very slender. Her skin was pale, almost translucent. It looked even whiter because of the dark mass of hair that framed the woman's face. The hair was long, slightly waved, and hung past the woman's shoulders and halfway down her back, forming a dark halo for her small face. It made her eyes look black and very large. Her delicate features were almost overshadowed by the abundant crop of hair. But her eyes were piercingly sharp as she looked at Darla.
Once Darla absorbed the shock of seeing the beautiful woman, she noticed what she was wearing-tight black pants which outlined each curve of her full hips and buttocks, and high, black patent leather boots laced to her knees. Topping the pants, she wore a very sheer black blouse. And nothing under it.
At first Darla thought it was a trick of the lights, but a second glance showed the woman's high pointed breasts jutting against the film of cloth. The outlines of the rosy peaks of the nipples were clearly marked as protruding pips that seemed to gather the blackness of the cloth over them to form dark pools. The perfectly formed globes bounced as the woman approached the bed. Darla looked away, then back at the woman's face.
The woman sat on the edge of the bed next to Darla. She stared down at her. For a long time, the two women met stares wordlessly. Darla lost control first and looked away, at Henri, at Jon.
"What do you want?" she whispered. Something in the woman's look frightened her beyond the fear she already knew.
The woman's mouth curved in something that might have been a smile. It wasn't pretty. "So, you are willing to talk now?"
Darla bit her lip. She was more confused than ever.
The woman smiled coldly. "Where is it?"
Darla looked at her. For a moment she could not move or speak. Then her fright cracked along the edges and she shook her head. "What? What are you talking about?"
The woman shook her head. "We will never get anywhere that way." She turned to look at the two men standing behind her. "You have the film?" Henri nodded. "Hugo is processing it in the lab now."
She nodded. "Good." She turned back to Darla. "If you don't cooperate, that film you just helped make will be sent to your employer. The Dodsworth Insurance Company, I believe. In Kansas City, Missouri, United States of America." Darla felt dizzy. How did this woman know these things? She tried to swallow but her throat was a parched expanse of sand.
"I see you believe me. Good. Now let's get back to business. Where is it?"
Darla whimpered softly. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have anything."
The woman in black shook her head slowly and sadly.
"Please," Darla begged. "Tell me what you think I have! I don't even know what you're talking about!" Tears were hot against her eyelids now and they blurred her vision as they began pouring down her cheeks.
"Don't be a fool!" The woman almost snarled the words. Her face became an ugly mask. "You know damned well what I want. Don't play games with me. Where are the papers?"
Darla wept openly now. "I don't have any papers. I swear I don't! Please, you've got to believe me! You have me mixed up with someone else!"
The woman's dark eyes narrowed. "Darla Sayer, American tourist, staying at the Hotel Avianne, room seven forty-two. Arrived yesterday by Air France. Tour arranged by Glencoe Tours." She cocked an eyebrow at Darla's shocked look. "Do I have you mixed up with someone else?"
The woman got to her feet and stood, hands on hips, glaring down at Darla. "Now for the last time nicely, where are the papers?"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Darla felt cold suddenly. The calm, deliberate words the woman uttered were like an icy spray on her flesh. The details the woman had given were perfectly accurate, yet the whole thing was a mistake. It had to be!
What about the things the woman had not said? Darla Sayer, bereaved widow of Winston Sayer, taking her first trip abroad to try to ease the painful memories of her past, trying to start life over by learning to live in the world again. Innocent Darla Sayer, who had been touched by only one man until last night. Darla who had been forcibly taken just a few minutes ago by the two men standing near the bed, and who had come out of the experience feeling strangely different.
Darla stared now at the waiting threat of the woman in black. She tried to make sense of the words, the events, but they jumbled and flipped through her brain like pieces of a puzzle, touching each other but never fitting together. The manacles bit into her flesh to remind her of reality.
She touched her thick tongue to her dry lips. "I don't have any papers." The whisper croaked in the silent room.
The woman watched Darla's face for several seconds. Then she raised her head and signaled Henri with her eyes. Darla's glance swept from one to the other of them in new fear. Henri moved toward the leg bands at Darla's ankles and worked them loose with a small key.
Darla was so surprised she could only watch in amazement. She lay very still. Henri moved to the headboard and unlocked the cuffs at her wrists. Instinctively, she flexed her hands to circulate her blood. Her arms were numb from being held above her head for so long. Now she lowered them and tried to shield her naked breasts from the eyes that had already seen and tasted them. Unfettered, she was once again embarrassed by her nudity.
The room was very quiet again. The three people standing near the bed watched Darla, and Darla could not force herself to look at any of them. What could she say? She had already told the truth and no one believed her. She was too naive to concoct quick lies. Besides, she had no idea what the woman was talking about and no way of pretending she did. It would only make things worse-if they could be any worse.
Henri moved forward again and grabbed Darla's arm to pull her up. She whimpered softly. He yanked her to her feet and she stood trembling before them. Her thighs were sticky and her pubic hairs pulled harshly where the sludge of semen and cunt juice had dried on them. She huddled behind her arms as though she could escape the evil that surrounded her.
The woman in black stepped back and examined Darla's nudity. It was as if she were appraising her, checking her worth. The black eyes moved in a slow path from Darla's creamy white shoulders to her swaying breasts with their soft nipples in pools of coral, to her flat stomach and the arrowhead of her crotch. Darla pressed her thighs together.
Without speaking, the woman turned and started from the room. Henri tugged at Darla's arm. "Come on, baby."
She stumbled behind him, making quick steps to catch up. She saw Jon move up behind her, and she felt trapped and helpless.
The air was warm in the strange apartment but Darla shivered. The tight fear had knotted in her throat and chest, and she could scarcely breathe.
They went down the hall through which they'd entered but passed the door to the first room she'd seen. The halls looked endless as they went on to another door at the far end. The woman opened it, and without looking back, knowing her instructions were being carried out, she went in.
Henri pushed Darla in ahead of him. She stumbled and he jerked her upright. She heard the door close behind them, and Jon came to her other side. It was several seconds before Darla realized that the steady clicking noise she heard was in the room itself, not in her head. She controlled her fear and looked around the room.
It was a room with a room. They stood on the perimeter of a stage-like section flooded with light. In it, several pieces of furniture dotted a large circular black rug. The bed and divans were covered with thick red velvet, and they looked like splotches of blood against the black. There were no lamps, but again the lighting came from a hidden source and illuminated the space totally. Around the circle of the rug, cameras on high pedestals waited.
Her surprise overwhelmed her and at first she did not see the figure on the low couch. When she did, a small scream bubbled from her mouth without warning. Jim Rogers lay on the red velvet, naked, and tied hands and feet.
She pulled forward but Henri's arm jerked her back harshly. She gasped and covered her mouth with her free hand. What had been panic before became stark terror now. Seeing Jim a prisoner too was the end of any hope she might have had for escape. It was the end of a nightmare and the beginning of hell.
"Put her on the bed for now," the woman said.
Henri tugged Darla forward. "Want her tied, D.G.?"
"Just her hands."
Henri nodded and Jon fell in step beside him. They crossed the edge of darkness and entered the Circle of light. Jim stirred slightly but did not open his eyes. Darla realized with fright that he was drugged or hurt. She caught her lips between her teeth to keep from crying out.
The men pushed her onto the bed and she fell headlong across the blood-red spread. For a moment she buried her face in the soft velvet and longed for oblivion. Then she was rolled quickly onto her back and her hands secured to some hidden moorings below the surface of the huge bed. She pulled her knees together and turned as far on her side as she could to hide herself.
The two men walked out of her range of vision. Inside the halo of light, she was blind to everything beyond its rim. The rest of the room was a haze of dark shadows. She realized that somehow the indirect lighting blinded her to the corners of the room. She could only listen.
All she heard was the steady whir and click of the cameras. They stood like huge evil eyes scanning the room, watching and waiting.
For what? Sobs died silently in her chest. She turned and sought some sign in the shadows near the door, but the room was silent. Had they gone? She tried to remember if she had heard the door again. But her fear was too loud in her ears. There was no movement now, no sign that the three were still in the room.
She closed her eyes and counted slowly to fifty. Then she opened them again and looked past the shadowy haze of the cameras. Nothing. She turned and looked at Jim. He lay on his side, his hands bound together and fastened to a chain that disappeared under the sofa on which he lay. His ankles were tied with a length of cord between them so he could move them apart a few inches. Another chain ran from the cord over the end of the sofa. His face was partially hidden as he lay with his chin tucked against his chest. She could see that his eyes were closed and his mouth open as he breathed shallowly.
She thought about the last time she had seen him, and her pulse became erratic. Her gaze moved from his face down his nude torso, to the spot where his body angled slightly and his sex organs lay in the recessed crevice. Even in repose, his penis and balls were huge and beautiful. Darla bit her lip. A sudden memory of his lovemaking flooded her. Feelings that she had never known she could feel again had been brought to life by his body. Pain shot through her belly now at the thought.
She looked guiltily in the direction of the door as though perhaps her unseen audience might read her thoughts. She felt a blush stain her cheeks. She looked back at Jim.
New images filled her brain. Jim huddled in a dark doorway with the man who had attacked her in the church. Jim mumbling lies to gain entrance to her hotel room. Jim covering her mouth so she could not cry out. Jim tempting her to forget his unorthodox behavior by taking her to bed and rousing her to new heights of need.
And now he was here. Here in this strange place with these horrible people. True, he was bound and a prisoner the same as she, but he was here! This whole episode hinged on her knowing him! It had to! Her fascinated stare at his organs faltered in guilt and surprise.
Whatever the papers were that the woman had asked for, they were somehow tied to Jim Rogers. She had become implicated because she had been with him. It was a mistake! D.G. and her two companions had assumed that she knew Jim Rogers better than she actually did.
She turned to the shadows. "Please? Are you there?" Her voice bounced in the cavernous room but there was no answer. She turned back to look at Jim. "Jim! Jim! Wake up! Oh, please, wake up!"
He didn't move, and silence filled the room again. She whimpered and tried to think. There had to be a way to convince them she was telling the truth. Her mind spun, leaping over fragmented thoughts and not able to focus. What papers did Jim have? Was he a thief? Or was he honest and the others the thieves? She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe in Jim. He was her only hope.
Maybe she had been a fool to trust him after the first warning she had had when he didn't meet her at the restaurant. Or was that the beginning? Why had he insisted she meet him at all instead of coming to the hotel to pick her up? Her first mistake had been in going out alone. And the clandestine meeting of Jim and the other man in the doorway. It couldn't be coincidence any more than she could have been mistaken about the man's identity. Was the other man in on this too? Maybe Jim had passed the papers to him in that brief exchange in the dark. Helplessly, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. She was shaking all over and sobs and tears burned at her throat. She couldn't give in to them, she had to think. When Jim woke up, there would be an answer, a way out. There had to be.
She lay still and controlled her breathing until she was past the panic. Then she lay suspended from thought. Waiting.
The sound intruded on her mind slowly. When she recognized it as real, it had already been there for several minutes. She opened her eyes and blinked at the bright lights. After a moment, she had adjusted her vision. The sound was close to her but she couldn't locate the source. She heard it again, and quickly lowered her gaze to the spot by the edge of the bed.
Her mind rejected what her eyes saw. She shook her head, trying to push the sight away by will power and denial. The sound grew louder and she shrank back from the edge of the bed. Her blood pounded in her head like a prisoner beating on the walls of his cell. She shuddered in horror.
The panting, growling dog stood his ground. Teeth bared, he lay his muzzle on the edge of the red bedspread and held her with his gleaming black eyes.
Darla screamed.
CHAPTER NINE
The cry made the animal shift his position and look at her more closely. A soft growl came from deep in its throat and he inched his head closer to her leg. She could feel the short bursts of breath from his open mouth scorch her thigh. She tried to pull away but the meaningful snarl made her stop.
The animal was coal black. It looked like a German shepherd but she had never seen one that size or color before. His eyes glittered in the reflected light like twin coals burning inside his skull. His sharp white teeth were like polished ivory daggers, and his tongue lolled out one side of his open jaw. She could see the damp glistening snout as he snuffled along her flesh.
She shivered and trembled as the wet nose touched her flesh. When she tried to back away, the dog warned her with another growl. She was terrified by the stalking animal.
With a graceful, quick motion, the dog put his forepaws on the edge of the bed and lifted his
body so he hovered over her. Darla caught her Up between her teeth and bit her panic into it. She tasted the warm salty blood.
The dog sniffed at her crotch, and despite her terror, she pulled back again. The dog moved with her, pushing his muzzle right into the sticky pubic hairs between her legs.
"No!" The desperate cry tore from Darla's lips.
The dog pulled his lips back but no sound came from his throat. It was as if he considered the silent warning sufficient. Then he moved his inquisitive nose to her body again. Darla began to cry softly. She was thoroughly frightened, unable to get away from the animal and panicked at the thought of remaining where it could touch her. There was a certainty in the dog's movements that somehow told her clearly that this was not a random encounter. That woman, the one the man called D.G., had put the dog here to torment her.
The animal's tongue flicked over its jaw in a long curling motion. Saliva dribbled in tiny drops from the side of its mouth. The nose touched her flesh. A huge sob clogged Darla's throat. The dog's tongue came out inquisitively and began lapping between her thighs. She pressed them together but the sandpapered red probe continued its search. The tongue washed down her thigh, lapping at the stickiness coagulated on it. The dog whined softly and pressed his muzzle deeper between her legs.
Darla was consumed with fascinated horror. The dog had not hurt her. It seemed to know that she was a prisoner and that it was in control. The cold wet nose trailed down her leg and back again to her crotch. The rough red tongue tasted her flesh and made her shiver.
The animal seemed to be waiting, poised and ready, needing only a signal from its unseen master. What would the signal bring? Vicious attack? Or perhaps something even worse? Darla tried to force the thought from her mind. It was not possible! Yet already the animal was forcing its long tongue and snout between her tightly-pressed thighs. It was obscene and terrifying, but she was powerless to stop him. Every time she tried to jerk away, he snarled menacingly.
She lay very still and gritted her teeth against the helpless waves of shock that coursed through her.
A low whistle split through the quiet room. The dog raised its head instantly, ears high and alert. A second whistle came, and the dog whined with pleasure. His jaws opened and he let out a sharp, small bark. Then, reacting to the signal, he moved up along the edge of the bed and nuzzled his snout to Darla's throat. She lay rigid with fear. The hot breath seared her flesh; the wet tongue and teeth touched her throbbing throat. The head moved down, and she could feel the soft fur glide over her shoulder. Then the tongue licked at her breast.
Darla's harsh breaths almost kept pace with the animal's panting. She was cold with fear, yet mesmerized by the trained dog's actions. She knew that the three people who had brought her here were watching in the shadows that surrounded her, and instructing the dog.
The coarse oral organ scraped over her tender tits. The nipple, sunken and soft, began to strain forward. It was as if she were those two people again, the receiver and the observer. Darla could not think past her panic. Her body responded out of some fear of its own or some hidden horror that became lustful at the animal's touch. The dog whimpered again and nibbled the tit with only a hint of pressure from the white gleaming teeth. She dared not breathe.
She was as much shocked by her body chemistry as she was by the dog itself. She couldn't deny the strange ripples of excitement that sprang from the dog's contact and made her shiver. It was too horrible to contemplate, but it was there.
Another soft sound pierced the silence. The dog listened for an instant and then moved again. This time, he sprang lightly onto the bed and stood over Darla. She was frightened again. Droplets of saliva sprayed on her bare belly as the dog made a low sound in its throat. She stared at it. Over her, the dog was bigger than he'd looked on the floor. He straddled her hips easily and seemed to be studying her. Then with deliberation, he pushed one front paw at the crease where her thighs were tight together. She tried to resist, but the sharp claws pierced her skin and she let her leg move away. The dog snarled and she moved again.
When the animal crawled over her leg and lay between her spread thighs, she closed her eyes. She could not stand any more. The full horror of what was happening hit her. She screamed.
The dog looked up, cocked his head and turned to listen for a new signal. Darla heard the soft laughter from the shadows. Then she heard another whistled command. The wet snout pressed between her legs, probing and searching her cunt, sniffling and snuffling like an obscene hand between her thick wet vaginal folds. She screamed again and again, but the sound echoed in the room and was answered only by the swift darting tongue of the dog at her private parts. The lapping tongue found her clitoris and licked it eagerly. She tensed every muscle trying to stop the erotic sensations from building, but the tongue won out. She lay helpless in the throes of building excitement. Horror blotted out all conscious thought. She opened her eyes and stared at the dark cave above the cameras and lights around her. Her belly throbbed, tense and hot. Waiting.
She was dimly aware of the next soft whistle. She felt the animal move, shifting his weight on the bed. She sensed him over her once more. When she looked, he was right at her face. She was looking into the dark glaring eyes. The dog whined and humped slightly toward her. She looked down and new horror filled her. The dog's wet, red, glistening penis was unsheathed and poised over her crotch.
Stark terror pushed a scream from her throat. The animal cocked his head and licked his jaws again.
"Stop! Oh, please, stop him! No!!"
The dog bent his back legs and hunkered close to her. His massive body was trembling and his front paws came up and planted themselves on her naked belly. She could feel the claws bite her flesh as he tried to steady himself on her. She screamed again.
Another sound broke into the nightmare. "My God! For Christ's sake, stop him!" It was a hoarse scream from Jim.
Darla recognized the voice and a whisper of relief touched her mind. But not enough to blot out the horror of the animal lunging at her, trying to sink his wet dribbling cock into her body.
The dog lunged and she felt the hot touch of its body on hers. The slippery pointed sex organ slipped along her cunt folds and made her recoil in horror. But the dog tried again, trying to penetrate her with jabbing thrusts. She twisted and tried to escape. His claws raked her flesh and she whimpered in pain and fright.
"For God's sake, stop it!" Jim's scream was wild and full.
A low whistle stopped the dog, but its body quivered and waited, unable to stop the lust that had been stirred in its body.
For a moment the room was silent except for the heavy panting of the animal over her. Darla's own breathing was almost nonexistent, shallow and struggling.
The disembodied voice came from beyond the ring of cameras and lights. "Are you ready to talk, then, Mister Rogers?" The woman's voice held a note of amused impatience.
"Why did you bring her here?" Jim demanded. His tone was angry and tight.
The woman laughed softly. "To help make you talk or to get the information from her. Either way. It makes no difference to me. But I will have what I want."
"She knows nothing! I barely know the girl. Let her go!" Jim's voice was almost screeching.
Darla felt a wave of relief even though the danger had not passed. Jim would fix things, explain to these madmen that it was all a mistake. The nightmare would soon be over.
"Where are the papers?" The same question, cold and demanding.
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about! How many times do I have to tell you that?"
There was a brief pause before D.G. said, "I'm through playing games, Rogers. This is the last time I'm going to ask. Where are the papers?"
Jim cursed softly. Darla held her breath. The dog poised and watched her.
The silence dragged out into long seconds. The room was quiet. Then the woman whistled again.
The dog reacted quickly. Before Darla could pull back, it had lunged at her again. The heavy paws pinned her tight to the bed and the animal's haunches plunged between her legs. The next moment was an explosion of cries and feelings over which Darla had no control. The high-pitched scream that came from her lips erupted from deep inside her. The dog panted and plunged its wet slippery organ into the pulpy wetness of her cunt. His claws dug into her flesh as he clung to her writhing body. His soft fur brushed against her thighs and belly. His working jaws loomed over her navel menacingly as he humped his lust into her.
Darla tugged desperately at the legs that held her arms but she could not budge them. She only succeeded in forcing her body closer to the dog, and his hard-hitting pecker drove deeper into her. The hot wet surge in her belly could not be from her! In horror, she felt the seeping secretions from her vagina. No! No! No! Her mind screamed the words her mouth would no longer form. The dog was making noises deep in its throat, harsh rasping sounds that strained against the other sounds of the room. Then with animal suddenness, he made a final jab and the thick lava bubbled out into her cunt. Darla felt the wave of hot fulfillment as she met the load with her own desperate answer. Then she screamed again. The sound rose and fell in the room. It was picked up and echoed with a string of harsh swearing from Jim.
"Goddamn bitch! Lousy no good-"
D.G.'s laugh was amused and sadistic. Then a man's voice said in awe, "Jeez! What a sight!"
Darla fought the rising nausea that gurgled in her throat. She closed her eyes and blacked out everything but her own panic and hate. It was too horrible to think about. Too horrible to believe even though it had happened. A blessed wave of blackness swept over her and she passed out.
She hung in the black fog, drifting and unwilling to struggle out of it. It closed around her warmly, but somehow soothing her overheated body. The fog was tender and loving. The fog was oblivion and Win. The fog was safe.
Her body ached and the fog soothed it. Her eyes burned, and the fog bathed them with its cooling dew. Her hands were numb, and the fog stroked the blood to life in them.
She floated and drifted, content to not think or struggle. The misery of her past twenty-four hours vanished in the dim grayness. Darla let the fog claim her. She went back to Win, to his loving, gentle arms, to his tender caresses, to his love.
But the fog grew lighter. She could not hold it even though she clawed and tried to grasp the slivers that slipped away. The light was back, demanding and harsh, burning her eyelids and stabbing at her pupils. She cried softly, calling Win's name in panic.
"Shhh, it's all right."
"Oh, Win! Win! Don't leave me!" The plea came from her soul.
"Baby, baby, take it easy. God, I'm so sorry! What a hell of a thing to happen!"
The voice grated on her conscience. He sounded so different. Strange. Not like Win at all. She grasped for the thinning gray cloud desperately.
His hand stroked her head, her cheek. His lips touched her forehead gently. She felt warm and safe.
Then she slowly became aware of the heat along the length of her body. She was naked, clinging to him. She tried to circle him with her arms, but she couldn't move. Hard, cold pain stabbed at her wrists. Very slowly, a glimmer of awareness came to her.
The red velvet bed. The chains. Not Win! No, Win was dead! She opened her eyes in a rush of panic.
She saw Jim Rogers' face close to her own. He was the one who was holding her and stroking her. Naked flesh to naked flesh, he cradled her in his arms and breathed soft words to her. Her body stiffened reflexively.
"It's okay now, baby. Don't worry." He tried to smile but it came out lopsided and imperfect. "They're gone."
For a moment her mind did not focus on the thought. She was still numb and in partial limbo. They? With sudden horror, the truth washed over her. They! D.G., the two men, and the horrible dog! A sob burst in her chest and she struggled to free herself from his hold. He tightened his grip and stroked her back.
"Easy, easy. It's all over. All over. It's going to be all right." His words were evasive rays of desperate hope.
She wanted everything to be over. She wanted to erase the terrible memory of the lunging lashing animal that had carried out its vile act on her body. She shivered and buried her face in his shoulder. Jim held her close.
"God! I can't tell you how sorry I am, kid. I had no idea they'd drag you into this. Damn!" He was half talking to himself.
Everything came back to Darla then. Her kidnapping, being held a prisoner in this strange place, her defilement by the two men, then the final degradation of the dog. Stark horror filled her. How could Jim Rogers say it was all right? She remembered the woman in black and her cold questions about some papers. The papers were connected with Jim. Darla had been used as a threat, a weapon. She looked up at his serious dark face, pulling her body back from his embrace enough so that she could look into his eyes.
"Why didn't you give her the papers she wanted?" The question came from her own desolation and fear.
Jim frowned slightly and then tried to smile again. "Baby, it's all a mistake. I don't know what this is about any more than you do! I got banged on the head and when I woke up I was over there on that damned couch. And you were here with the goddamn animal! Christ, do you think I would let a thing like that happen to you if I could have stopped it?" He hugged her close but she was still in his arms.
The impact of the events had left her cold and wary. There was no one she could trust, not even herself. Her own body had betrayed her into the trap of need. Only with Win had she been safe. And Win was gone forever.
He sensed the subtle difference in her but pretended not to. He stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead again. "Try not to think about it, kid. It will take time, but the horror will pass. Believe me, you'll forget."
How could she? The dog's panting snarling face was etched in her mind forever. And the slick wet touch of its body had scarred her soul for eternity.
She lay very still, barely breathing, letting him ease her tension with his hands. It had begun with him, the rescue in the cathedral. She thought about the pleasant afternoon they had spent dining and sightseeing. She recalled her pleasant surprise when he did not make a pass at her when he left her at the hotel. Why couldn't their friendship have gone on that way?
No, it was impossible. Nothing went on forever. Nothing good and nice stayed very long. She had to face reality, and reality was cold and hard.
But Jim's arms were warm and tight around her. She took a deep breath and relaxed slightly. He pulled her closer. She could feel her breasts against the coarse hairs of his chest. The thought brought a tiny shiver to her. She had enjoyed his lovemaking. He had been almost as gentle as Win-at first, anyhow. It was her own guilt that drove him away in the end. The guilt overwhelmed her now, and she tried to close her mind to it.
Very softly and without raising her head, she whispered to him, "Please, hold me."
CHAPTER TEN
It was a long time before Darla stirred. The comfort of Jim's arms around her helped push away the thoughts that tried to crowd her mind. She would not allow herself to think about what had happened. Jim was right about that. To dwell on the past was a route to madness. She had to concentrate on now.
Finally she lifted her head and looked at him. "How did you get over here?" she asked.
He kissed her cheek. "They moved me. The woman said she'd give us an hour to talk things over."
Darla jerked away. "An hour?" Fear glazed her eyes. "Then what? Oh, Jim, what's this all about? What's going on? Who are they? What do they want?"
"Shhh, take it easy." He tried to wrap her in his arms again but she would not relax.
"I don't understand any of it! Why me? Why-"
He put his finger to her lips. "I told you, baby, I don't know any more than you do. It's a mistake. I've tried to tell them but they won't listen."
"But what do they want? What are these papers we're supposed to have?"
He shrugged and his chest hairs pulled against the sensitive tips of her breasts. "Damned if I know. But look,-let's stop worrying about that and start thinking how we're going to get out of here."
"Can we?" It was a desperate whisper of hope. "I don't know." He lifted one leg and the chain attached to his ankle clanked heavily. "Not when we're trussed in chains this way." His hands were free though, and he rubbed her back lightly. He put his mouth close to her ear and spoke softly. "They're probably listening to every word we say so we're going to have to play it cool."
Darla's heart pounded. She hadn't thought of that but now that she did, she knew almost certainly that Jim was right. She recalled the hushed room and the feeling of being watched from the shadows. Were they there now? Or was the silent eye of the camera guarding them. She listened, but there was no telltale whir of the mechanical eye or ear. She waited for Jim to go on.
"I'll have to try to bluff them." His words barely sounded at her ear.
"How?" Her whisper matched his.
His hand made slow circles on her back and moved down to her ass. She shivered slightly as his palm cupped the full sphere and pressed her closer. She could feel the warmth of his crotch and the pressure of his organs against her body. She could also feel the wet sticky sludge between her legs. She shivered again.
He bent and kissed her again. His lips were right at her ear. "I don't know, but I'll think of something. Just go along with whatever I say or do." His lips brushed her face in another caress. "Feel better? he asked in a louder tone meant to be overheard.
"A little. Jim?"
"Hmmm?" His hands were stroking her flesh gently.
"What will they do to me? Us?" The fear was ripe and bursting inside her.
He hugged her closer. "Don't think about it. It's going to be all right.
She wanted so much to believe him but logic and sense had fled so completely she couldn't be sure of anything. It was worse than a nightmare. There was no waking up from this horrible truth.
They both heard the sound and his hands warned her to be careful. She hid her face on his chest and listened to the steps cross the room, whispering against the carpet. She felt Jim look up but he didn't let go of her.
It was the woman's voice. "Your hour is up."
"Yeah."
"I'm not going to waste any more time." Her tone was crisp and cold. "Where are they?"
Jim took a deep breath. "Obviously I don't have them on me."
She didn't think he was funny. "Don't make me mad."
He shrugged. "Let her go, and I'll get them for you."
D.G. laughed harshly. "Get them for me and I'll let her go."
Darla shuddered and bit her lip. Jim moved away from her slightly and she dared to look up at him for an instant. His gray eyes were like flakes of steel. "No. My way or not at all."
The woman moved closer. "You're in no position to argue, Mister Rogers. You seem to forget you're the one who's chained and I'm the one with the key."
Jim pushed himself up on one elbow. His other hand rested lightly on the curve of Darla's hip. "No, and you're also the one who has the films. Do you think she's going to cause any trouble as long as you have them? Isn't that why you took them in the first place? Or do you get your kicks watching them nights when you're alone?"
The woman made a hissing sound and there was a long pause before she spoke. "Why are you so suddenly interested in her?"
Jim shrugged again. "I told you, she has nothing to do with any of this. I barely know her. Can't you see she's scared to death? Haven't you done enough to her already?"
There was no pity in her voice. "Why did you go to her room last night?" The question lashed out like a whip.
Darla felt like she was caught in a net that was pulling her underwater. Jim's fingers traced a slow pattern on her waist, "She's a beautiful and sexy woman. I went to bed with her, what the hell else?"
Darla stiffened at his brusque words but his fingers cautioned her. She lay very still. She couldn't see D.G., and she was glad. She concentrated on Jim's chest. He had told her to go along with whatever he said or did. She really had little choice.
"Where are the papers?" D.G. asked the question almost casually.
Jim shook his head. "I told you, let her go and I'll get them for you."
"I don't trust you."
"You have no choice. You'll never find them if you keep me chained here. And I won't get them if you keep her." He lifted one hand in a gesture of contempt.
The silence was heavy around them as D.G. thought over his ultimatum. Darla could feel the tension in Jim's touch. She held her breath. It seemed like a very long time until the woman answered.
"Very well. I have no choice, but I do have some trump cards." She leaned forward and yanked Darla by the shoulder, forcing her to turn and face her. "The films we've got of you will be sent to your family, your employer and sold to collectors if you step out of line just once. You understand?" Her black eyes were like twin burning coals.
Darla nodded mutely. The taste of fear and nausea was strong in her mouth. D.G. let go of her and turned her attention to Jim. "My men found you once. They can do it again. Next time they won't be so gentle. Neither will I." She worked her hand into her pocket and brought out a small key. She bent to unlock the cuffs on Jim's ankles. "You have twelve hours. Bring the papers back here on time or both of you will be sorry." She let the metal ring clank to the floor and then she moved to Darla's wrists. In a moment she dropped the second set of chains. Darla rubbed her wrists and sat up. Jim was already on his feet. He grabbed her arm to steady her.
D.G. put the key back in the pocket of the tight black pants. Darla looked away from the taut sheer cloth over the dark nipples of the woman's tits.
"Her clothes are in the bedroom." She swept a contemptuous glance over Darla's naked body. "She can clean up in there if she wants to." She stepped back and motioned for them to precede her. Darla could hardly stand up, and she clung to Jim's arm tightly. In a daze, she let him lead her from the big room and back along the hall to the black bedroom.
Inside, Jim closed the door and they were alone. Darla was shaking. He put his arms around her. "It's okay, baby. You'll be all right now."
"Oh, Jim! I want to get out of here!" she sobbed.
He kissed her gently. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up." He crossed the room to another door that slid back to reveal a black bathroom, gleaming like onyx. He reached into the open shower stall and turned on the taps. After testing the water with his hand, he took her under it, his arm still around her.
She offered no protest as he washed her aching body. His hands, slick with soap, moved over her sticky skin and wiped away all remnants of the repeated sex acts that had been performed on her. She closed her eyes and her mind as his fingers pried apart the heavy folds of her vagina and scoured between them. The water was warm and comforting. His touch was tender and pleasant.
He lingered awhile at her tits, fondling them briefly as he washed and rinsed the mounds of flesh. Except for the circumstances, he would have played longer. Instead, he washed himself quickly and then stepped with her onto the black fur mat and grabbed a towel. He rubbed her body dry and she began to feel human again. All through the shower she had not said a word. She did not trust herself to speak. She was too afraid to tell him that despite everything, she liked the touch of his hands on her body. She liked the way he aroused quick desire in her. Somehow he made the other things that had happened less painful to think about.
He grinned at her. "Okay, get dressed. I'll have to find my clothes." But when they emerged from the bath, D.G. was sitting on the black satin bed, an amused smile on her lips. Jim's clothes were piled on the foot of the bed.
Darla felt the blood rise in her cheeks as the woman watched her dress. Her fingers fumbled with snaps and clasps, her nail punched a hole in her stocking. She was shaking again.
D.G. watched Jim put his clothes on, smiling at his hanging sex equipment as he bent forward to step into his shorts. Darla blushed again as D.G. caught her looking too.
Jim finally was ready and he took Darla's arm again. We'll be on our way then," he said to D.G. with mock courtesy.
The woman's glance flicked at him like a whip. "You've already used forty minutes of your twelve hours. You have until midnight." She didn't bother to get up as they left.
Outside in the hall, Henri was waiting. They followed him through the corridor and the warehouse part of the building. A few minutes later, they were on the dingy street. The car was gone. Henri shut the big steel door, and they were alone-and free.
Darla looked around in confusion but Jim quickly took her hand and walked rapidly down the street. He seemed to know where he was, and she thanked God for his familiarity with the city! They didn't talk until they were several blocks away, on a traveled street, and Jim had hailed a cab.
He gave the driver the address of Darla's hotel and they sat back against the cushions.
"We did it," Jim said calmly. "For a minute I wondered if I could bluff well enough."
"I don't understand any of it," Darla said, still fighting the panic that had filled her. "What papers are you supposed to be getting? Who is that woman?"
Jim looked out at the passing view. "I told you, baby, I haven't the foggiest notion. It was all a mistake. I had to bluff and say I would get the papers to get you out of there. We were both lucky it worked."
Darla stared at his profile. She knew he was lying. It had all been too pat, too certain. Whatever the woman-in-black's game was, Jim Rogers was part of it. He knew where, or at least what, the papers were. He turned and saw her staring at him. His expression altered slightly, but he smiled and said, "Let it go at that, baby. Leave well enough alone."
And she knew his advice was good. There was nothing she could do and she had already had enough misery to last her a lifetime. She wanted no part of it any more. Even now as she thought of the motion picture cameras grinding away with lenses aimed at her naked body, she felt cold and clammy. If anyone ever saw those films-She shuddered when she thought of the woman's threat. Would she use the films if Jim did not return with the papers?
The cab hurtled through the afternoon traffic and she fell against Jim as the driver aimed the vehicle around a comer. She pulled away and sat up. Somehow even Jim's warmth did not comfort her now.
"When you get to the hotel, pack your things and check out. Take the first plane or train and get the hell out of Paris." He spoke softly but with urgency.
She looked at him. "I can't do that!" She said it before she realized it.
His hand touched her knee. "Haven't you had enough? Look, I don't want you hurt any more than you have been already. If those people decide to pick you up again it might not be good. You've got to get out of here."
She shook her head. "The tour. I mean, I can't just go. Where would I go? I can't travel alone, I don't speak French or know anyone." Her confusion was evident. Her helplessness too. She had never felt so at sea before. Not since Win died. And then she had retreated into a collapse, a breakdown that let her hide from the world for months.
His eyes widened and he shook his head. "Baby, they play a rough game. Don't be a fool."
She shook her head again. "No, I couldn't go. I just couldn't." Running now would be the end of everything. She would never again be able to face reality. "I'll go to the police. They'll protect me."
"No!" His fingers tightened on her flesh. She looked at him with alarm. "Don't do that. It would be a mistake, believe me."
"You're hurting me!" She winced with pain.
He let go. "Sorry. But promise you won't call the cops. Please?"
"All right, I promise." She didn't understand but he seemed so sure she agreed. His earlier lie was obvious now, but she dared not ask questions.
"If you won't get away, at least find that tour group of yours and stick to them. Stay with people. No more wandering off by yourself. Okay?"
That was easy to agree to and she did so readily. He patted her thigh. "Good."
"What about you? What are you going to do. What about the deadline?"
He looked away then back at her. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. I always land on my feet."
"But she said-"
"Don't worry about it. You just concentrate on staying out of trouble. You've had more than your share."
Darla suddenly remembered the man in the church and her first meeting with Jim. The thought led to the brief glimpse of him and the man in the dark doorway, then to the package he had left in her room. She mentioned it to him.
"I found your package the other night. After you left my room."
"Package?" It was too casual.
"The dictionary. I opened it."
"Oh, yeah." He smiled. "I bought that for you. I forgot about it. I figured maybe a little bit of French would come in handy if you were going to wander around much." He glanced out the window. "Do you have it?" he asked carefully.
"It's in my room. I left it on the table."
He seemed to relax. "Yeah, well maybe it'll come in handy. Hang onto it."
The cab pulled up in front of her hotel. Jim leaned across her to open the door. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. Then he bent and kissed her lips gently. "Take care of yourself, baby."
"Will I see you again?" She asked the question softly.
"I don't know. Maybe. But remember your promise and be careful." He dropped her hand and sat back. Darla climbed out of the cab and he yanked the door shut quickly. She stood on the sidewalk and watched the cab pull away and be swallowed up by the traffic.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In her room, Darla paced the floor. She was uneasy and restless. She had checked at the desk only to find that the tour group was still out on their trip to Corbeil. They were not expected back until dinner time. She didn't want to be alone, but she didn't dare go out, either. She had slipped the chain on the door and had made up her mind not to open it for anyone.
She thought about Jim and the events of the morning. Trying to fit the pieces of information she had to build a clear picture was an impossible task. Her common sense told her to forget him, wipe away any feeling she had for him before it was too late. Jim Rogers spelled trouble. Several kinds.
There was the trouble about the mysterious papers that drove the woman in black to bizarre threats and actions. She had come out of that alive, somewhat damaged maybe, but alive. Next time she might not be as lucky.
And there was the trouble of her own strange feelings for Jim Rogers. He had brought her back to life, brought the warmth back into her existence. And now she wanted to keep it. She could not easily relinquish the new-found need for sex she had discovered in herself.
She paused at the window and looked down onto the street seven stories below. Alone with her thoughts she could finally admit the truth to herself. She had enjoyed the sex. Especially last night, when Jim had been considerate and loving. But even today when the harsh cruel hands and camera eye took her. She had been horrified by the rape, by the obscene filmmaking, but the sex act had excited her and made her dizzy with pleasure. She blushed at the thought of the dog, but even it had not been totally unpleasant. She pressed her hand to her mouth and gnawed at her knuckle. She t had heard stories about women who enjoyed sex in strange ways when they were forced into it. Now she knew they were true.
She would not want the experiences repeated, but they had been exciting. Her belly tightened at the memory.
She turned from the window and paced the floor again. She had several hours before the group would be back. Several hours alone with only her thoughts for company. She sat at the desk and tried to write a letter to Jean, but the words would not come. She finally scrawled a postcard that merely said, "You were right. Having a good time. Love, Darla."
She found a magazine and settled on the bed to read it determinedly. It helped a little to pass the time, but more often than not she found herself rereading a paragraph a third or forth time. Finally, it was five o'clock and she called Dave Glencoe. He sounded genuinely glad to hear her voice.
"Hello, Mrs. Sayer. I just got in. You missed a lovely trip."
"Yes, I'm sure I did," she answered. "I wanted you to know that I would like to rejoin the group. Tonight."
"Fine, fine. Of course. You've been part of us all along. When you sign up with Glencoe Tours, it's a package deal." He laughed at his own joke.
Darla sighed silently. "May I join you for dinner then?"
"Of course. We have something very special planned for tonight. We're meeting in the lobby at six-thirty." He hesitated. "Your friend-?" He let the question drift off.
"Had to leave quite unexpectedly." She deliberately did not fill in he or she for his curious mind. She smiled at the receiver as she imagined his disappointed look on the other end of the wire. "I'll be in the lobby at six-thirty, then. Thank you."
"Of course, my pleasure."
"Good-bye." She hung up without waiting for his final word. He was a strange little man but not really unlikable. He did his job well, and it was nice of him to have been concerned about her.
She showered again and dressed in a silk print in shades of yellow and green. She took special pains with her makeup and hair. She wished she had asked Dave Glencoe what the special plans were, but they probably included a fancy restaurant and floor show if he kept his pre-tour promises for Paris. All the time she dressed, she wondered and worried about Jim. Had he gotten the promised papers, or managed to avoid getting them? He was a puzzling man. She knew he had lied about the papers and not knowing what the woman in black was after, yet she had the strange feeling that his lie was somehow meant to protect her. There seemed to be no question in D.G.'s mind that he would bring the items back to her.
Darla wondered anew at the woman who ruled the strange hidden apartment so completely. Who was she and what was her name? And the apartment. Hidden inside the huge old warehouse, it was isolated in its splendor.
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost 6:30. She toyed with the idea of ringing Dave Glencoe's room again and asking him to stop by for her, but she decided against it. No one had come to her door all afternoon. It was un-likely that she would encounter any danger on the quick ride to the lobby. Whoever and whatever D.G. was, she kept her word. She was waiting for the deadline.
In the lobby, the tour group was almost complete. Darla smiled at the quiet elderly couple with whom she had sat on the bus yesterday morning. Dave Glencoe was counting heads and ordering cabs. Darla moved away from the couple and smiled at Helen Marshall, a school teacher from Indiana, who was almost as quiet as herself. The Waldorfs came over to her. A bright young couple, they were loud and flashy and Darla had done her best to avoid them so far. r
"Hi, glad to see you back," Sharon Waldorf said eagerly. Her husband grinned his agreement. "Been running off by yourself?" The woman's brittle smile implied that Darla had been naughty.
She tried to control the sudden flare of temper. "Yes." Let her make of that what she would.
"Have you heard about this place we're going to?" Ed Waldorf asked.
Darla shook her head.
"Supposed to be something!" He winked, and Helen Marshall blushed.
Yesterday, I would have blushed too, Darla thought. If these people knew how I'd spent the morning, I'd really have something to blush about! Instead, she found herself amused at the man's silly attempts to be risque. Knowing Dave Glencoe's fanaticism in pleasing his customers, Darla was willing to bet the night club would be quite mild. It had to be with Helen Marshall and the elderly Oppenheimers along.
Dave Glencoe raised his hand to usher them to the street. "Let's go, I've got the cabs lined up."
The group filed out of the lobby like a herd of sheep and climbed into the waiting taxis. Fifteen minutes later, they were inside the Club Maison. Here, Glencoe had arranged for a large table that marked them as a tour group. Darla was almost sorry she had come, but it was better than sitting alone for the evening.
She selected her dinner from the long menu almost absently, only half listening to the chatter of voices around her. She was thinking of Jim, wondering where he was and what he was doing. She answered questions directed at her and managed to look pleasant and polite. She sipped at the red wine and thought of Jim.
The lights dimmed and the stage was spotlighted just as they got their dessert. Darla wasn't paying much attention and had just raised the wine glass to her lips once more when the sound shocked her to attention. Several drops of the ruby-red wine sloshed over the rim of the glass and fell like drops of blood onto the white tablecloth. Nobody noticed. Everyone's attention was directed to the stage.
The dog growled again, then barked sharply. Darla stared.
On the stage, bathed in the bluish light from the spot, D.G. stood smiling at the audience. At her feet, the black dog watched her with an inquisitive look.
With a trembling hand, Darla set down the wine glass and pushed it back from the edge of the table. She could scarcely hear the low throb of the music over the pounding in her ears. But the music rose slowly and filled the room. The woman stood very still and the dog watched her.
She was still dressed in black, a twin outfit to the one she'd worn earlier today except that the see-through blouse had been changed for one just as sheer but with huge ruffles down the front that partially concealed her naked breasts beneath them. The pants were different too, or maybe it was the light. They looked like patent leather, shiny and clinging, matching the boots.
Then Darla saw the small placard at the side of the stage. Devil's Girl. D.G.
Darla gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles were white. Next to her, Dave Glencoe whispered loudly. "She dances. With the dog! Did you ever see such a brute? No wonder she calls him Devil."
The music rose to fever pitch and the woman held the dog steady with her gaze. The animal posed, his legs spread in a broad base for his huge body. Darla found herself trembling as she remembered the dog standing over her this morning.
Slowly, D.G. raised her arms, spread them and began to sway to the tempo. The dog watched. The woman moved from the waist, keeping her hips and legs still while the upper half of her body kept the beat of the music. Then she twirled in a quick motion, and at the same instant she whistled softly. The dog sprang into action, understanding her command and beginning his performance.
The music grew wild and the two figures on the stage moved in perfect rhythm to it. The dog leaped and darted around the woman, feigning attack and backing off as she whistled new commands at timed intervals. Without the music and the soft low sounds from the woman's throat, it would have been easy to believe that the dog was stalking his prey, waiting to move in for the kill.
The audience gasped with each lunge the animal made, and as the woman stepped deftly aside or turned him with a command. The tempo increased, the figures whirled and darted on the stage. The drum was a loud echo to the gasping watchers.
Darla felt ill, physically ill. Watching the dog perform this way was too horribly real. She almost expected the animal to rip off the woman's clothing and execute its obscene sex act on stage. Her belly flooded with remembered heat and horror. She wanted to run, to escape, but she was hypnotized by the scene before her.
The music blared, screamed. The dog leaped, growled, waited. The woman danced, smiling, but never taking her eyes off the animal before her. The finale came when the crashing drums rose to a tremendous roar and the woman whirled in a tight circle in the center of the stage. As she did, the soft sound from her throat was clear only to the dog. He hunched, waiting. The tone changed and he leaped at her.
The audience screamed in unison as D.G. fell when the dog's front feet hit her. Dog and woman went down together. It was only when the music cut off abruptly that it became evident that the motion was part of the act. The dog landed feet outspread, straddling the woman's body, teeth bared at her throat, a low snarl growing in its throat. The silence in the room was thick, and the audience waited with hushed breath.
Darla let out her breath slowly. She hadn't realized she was holding it until the pain was unbearable in her chest. She felt a cold sweat between her shoulder blades and clasped her hands tightly in her lap to keep them from shaking.
The people around her were praising the act. Helen Marshall and the Oppenheimers looked vaguely embarrassed, but even they applauded strongly.
The stage lights went out and the curtains slithered across the platform to seal off the woman and the dog. The room came alive again with the sounds of voices and movement.
Dave Glencoe looked at his group with a grin. "Didn't I tell you I had something special for you? Did you ever see anything like that in your life?" He shook his head in wonder and didn't wait for an answer. "She's just been signed on for another eight weeks! They say she can write her own ticket any place in the city." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "They say she gets five grand a week!" He winked. "Of course she has to buy her own bones out of it!" He laughed loudly at his joke and there was a titter of response from the others at the table.
Dave Glencoe leaned back in his chair. His gaze swept the people watching him. "And that's not all. I've arranged for all of us to go backstage and meet the Devil Girl in person!" He was on his feet already. "Come on, she's waiting for us."
The others struggled to their feet in varying degrees of excitement. Darla couldn't move. Beside her, Helen Marshall touched her shoulder as she slipped between the chairs. "That dog is beautiful. I'm anxious to see it close up. I've never seen a black shepherd before. He's gorgeous."
Dave Glencoe turned to Darla. "Come on, Mrs. Sayer. You don't want to miss this chance."
Numbly, Darla got to her feet. There was no way she could get out of it without causing questions. And she didn't feel up to questions. Not about D.G.
She ducked her head and followed the group as it filed between the tables and headed for the passage that led backstage. She moved as if in a trance, mechanically and obediently. Maybe she could stay on the fringes of the group and not be seen by the woman. But the dog? Would it recognize her and give her away? She gritted her teeth and tried to still her panic.
The group crowded into the small dressing room. Dave Glencoe was making loud introductions, talking to D.G. and standing very close to her and not being too shy about looking at her lightly covered tits.
Darla tuned him out, pressing herself close to the wall near the door as the others crowded forward to talk to the dancer or to admire the dog. The beast sat watching the crowd with a guarded look. From time to time D.G. shot him a quick glance, but he remained motionless as people petted him or spoke to him softly.
Darla was unaware of the conversations and questions that buzzed in the tiny room. But with sudden clarity, she heard D.G. say, "Yes, he's a thoroughbred." Her dark eyes moved over the lowered head of Helen Marshall as she petted the dog. They found Darla's face and held her gaze. "He has papers."
The word hung in the sudden stillness like a dagger.
Darla knew it was a threat directed at her, a reminder. She knew too that D.G. had managed to arrange the visit backstage, not Dave Glencoe. She could not look away from the dark, piercing stare.
D.G. ran her tongue lightly over her red lips. For one horrified instant, Darla thought she was going to whistle to the dog.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When the tour group moved out of the dressing room, Darla was pushed along in the middle of the crowd. Her mind had ceased functioning. She moved automatically and numbly. D.G.'s words, the warning, were a burning torch in her mind.
How could she have thought she was free? Just because she had pushed thoughts of Jim and the adventure this morning to a corner of her mind, had she really believed they were gone? Where was Jim now? Mentally she reviewed the possibilities. One, he was actually doing what he promised this strange woman in black he would do: getting the papers she wanted. Two, he was trying to find some way to carry through the bluff. Three, he was-no! Her mind rejected the possibility even though it niggled at her brain and demanded recognition. She couldn't be that wrong about him, not when she felt the way she did! He would not run away and leave her in the midst of this mess. He was not gone!
She heard the small sob and realized it had come from her mouth. She covered her face momentarily and looked around to be sure no one had heard it. But the others in the group were still engrossed in their wonder at the dancer and the dog. Even Helen Marshall seemed totally unaware of anything but the excitement of the evening.
Back in cabs, the group split up. Dave Glencoe informed them that he had arranged a brief night club tour for those who wanted it. His professional smile guaranteed more excitement. Several of the party declined and headed back to the hotel. Darla wavered and finally chose the noise and bustle of the crowd. She climbed into the cab next to Glencoe. Even his slick patter was better than the lonely hotel room and the nagging hours of worry left until midnight.
They were noisy and determinedly cheerful. American tourists out for a good time in Paris. At first Darla was slightly embarrassed by the whole scene but she forced a smile and accepted another drink each time Glencoe or one of the men ordered it. Anything to get through the night. Anything to rid herself of thoughts of Jim.
She wasn't even sure how they moved from the fourth or fifth night club to the private party. Maybe they had talked about it and she had not been listening carefully. Now, she looked at the huge old house set far back from the quiet street and wondered how she had gotten here. Dave Glencoe tucked his arm through hers and pulled her along the walk to the ornate grilled front door.
A blast of noise hit them as they entered. The party here was in full swing and might have been going on forever. People crowded the hall and rooms, moving in vague attempts to dance or simply standing with drinks in hand laughing and drinking.
She moved into the mob, losing Dave Glencoe quickly as a red-headed woman pulled him into a group. Darla was quickly met by a young man in a turtleneck sweater and tight pants. His English was very bad and she had to laugh at his attempts to converse with her. She shook her head to show him she didn't understand. He produced a drink for her and she sipped it slowly. She had already had more to drink than she should, and she was slightly dizzy. The air in the room was warm and smoke-filled. It was hard to breathe.
Someone grabbed her arm and she found herself in a tiny clearing trying to follow the man's dance steps. He clutched her to his body and swung her around the small space in tight circles, whirling and spinning until the entire room was a whirlpool around her. The noise rose to a crescendo in her ears, and Darla laughed it away.
Then somehow the dance ended and she was leaning against the wall, breathless. The man, her partner, leaned in front of her, his hand above her shoulder, his body almost touching hers. He smiled.
"You are a very good dancer."
She tried to laugh but his face swam in front of her. "You did all the work!" The laugh came out like a giggle.
"I do not mind." His dark eyes coaxed hers to them.
She giggled again, knowing that she was being foolish but somehow not caring all of a sudden. Vaguely she recalled that there was a reason behind her forced gaiety, but she could no longer pinpoint it. The pretense had become reality. She giggled again.
"I would not mind doing all the work with you," the man said softly. His hand moved down the wall and was resting lightly on her shoulder. She felt the warm pressure but she did not move. She was too tired to think.
The man leaned closer. "Are you going to be in Paris long?"
She shook her head but the quick wave of dizziness warned her to stop. "No," she said thickly. "Week."
"You look pale," he murmured. She was amazed at his thoughtfulness and she tried to smile. "A little fresh air, perhaps?"
She blinked and focused her gaze briefly on his staring eyes. He was kind. She nodded slowly.
"The garden. Come along." She was moving with him then, held up by his steady arm, leaning heavily as she tried to place one foot in front of the other exactly. She wondered where Dave Glencoe had gone, and the others. The Waldorfs. That chubby bachelor whose name she had trouble remembering but who stared at her constantly, and the others.
The cool night air was pleasant on her flushed face. She breathed deeply and staggered a little. The man slipped his arm around her waist and held her up.
"Very kind," she murmured with conditioned politeness. He said something she didn't catch and she smiled vaguely.
There were other people in the garden. Darla was dimly aware of voices and laughter. But the canopy of trees over them made a narrow tunnel along the footpath and secluded them from intrusion. She stumbled once on some loose gravel and he righted her quickly. Both of his arms were around her now, and he pulled her close.
Darla's brain put up token objection to the familiarity but her body did not resist his embrace. She felt the hard pressure of his lean figure against her soft curves, pressing into her breasts, warming her belly and crotch. She closed her eyes as his lips found hers and began to work hard against them. Her mind searched for Win. Then for Jim. It accepted the stranger.
The kiss grew more heated, his tongue taking aim on the trembling lips and passing them to find her quivering tongue. The hot wet spear danced over her, exciting her and making her answer in kind. They couldn't be strangers when they spoke the same language of desire.
The man's hands began to explore the warm flesh beneath the yellow and green dress, slipping and sliding over the silky cloth in deft motions calculated to excite her. They cupped over the rounded mounds of her ass and pulled her hard against his bulging crotch. They swarmed up to find the high hills of her tits, grasp the heavy domes where they were trapped under the dress and bra. Darla shivered.
He moved then, taking her unresisting body with him as he backed off the path and lowered himself to a chaise longue under a wide bush. She fell back panting. The stars above them twinkled tiny lights in the dark sky.
"You're very beautiful." His fingers were working at the buttons down the front of the dress.
She smiled at the stars. She wanted to be beautiful. She wanted to be loved. She sighed and looked at him, trying to remember his name.
Reading her glance, he smiled back. "Ronnie," he said, filling in the gap in her memory. She giggled softly.
He had the buttons undone now and his hand slid quickly under the loose front of the dress. His touch was fire on the smooth flesh that was pushed up over the top of her bra. She felt very warm, and the underwear seemed so tight she could not breathe. She lifted herself gratefully as he reached behind her to unfasten it and free her. His hot palms found her naked flesh quickly. She lay back and sighed.
His eager hands mashed at the erotic flesh of her tits. His fingers found, the sunken pools of her nipples and began to waken them. She felt the tight pull of her flesh as the nipples began to swell in response to his manipulations. The tits hardened and came to attention. He rolled them under his fingers.
She watched his face. His expression was hungry and strong. She felt a tremor shake her and his hand tightened over the breast. His other hand touched her-knee and worked slowly but deftly up under her skirt along her moist thigh. Cool, hot, nice. The palm stroked the smooth skin, the fingers curled into the hot flesh. The caress excited her. She moved her legs apart so he could get between them. He smiled and bent over her to kiss her again.
"You're very desirable, Darla. I want to make love to you."
The words made her smile and she opened her mouth for his kiss. While his tongue raced over hers, his hand caught the edge of the elastic of her panties and worked under it. She felt the shock of his fingers at her crotch hair. She speared her tongue onto his.
The fingers probed upward. She was wet and warm. The fingers found the crevice between the thick hairy folds and spread it open. They picked in the wetness and surrounded the tiny bud of her clitoris. They fondled the outcropping of flesh and sent shivers through her entire body.
The stars blinked at her and she erased everything from her mind but the wonder of the growing need she felt. It consumed her, filled her, demanded release. She licked her tongue over her lips and whispered to the stranger.
"Yes, yes, ooohhh, yes!"
Somehow, he raised her and stripped the dress and loosened bra from her body. She shivered in the cool night air but lay back quickly as his hands pressured her down. She grew warm as his palms worked down the nylon panties from her waist and hips. He got them off and bent to kiss her naked belly. Darla smiled at the stars.
Ronnie worked the kiss downward, prodding with his lips along the expanse of gleaming white flesh. He touched the edge of the triangle of hair, and the woman shuddered with delight. He hooked one hand under a thigh and pulled her leg up so he could get his face between her enticing thighs. She did not protest. Her pliable body moved at his touch, inviting and welcoming him to her.
His tongue lanced against the slippery wet folds of her vagina. His teeth nibbled at her swollen clitoris, tugging and teasing until she could no longer lie still. She moaned and twisted onto his mouth.
"Ummm, nice." She was breathing very hard. He lifted one of her hands and pressed it to the growing need of his sex organs. She clamped her fist over the high bulge and kneaded it through the thickness of his trousers. Her fingers found the tiny metal tab of the zipper and she pulled it down to open his fly. Her hand snaked inside, under the thin covering of his underwear and settled on his hot hard flesh. He sucked air into his lungs and plunged to her cunt again. His tongue leaped and lashed at her hungry hugging tunnel.
Darla spun helplessly on the roller coaster of passion. His hands and tongue were all over her. She sought his body wildly. Somehow, he was suddenly naked and stretched out beside her on the lounge. She pressed to him eagerly. His hands rubbed her flesh and coaxed her desire to hot flame.
Then he was entering her. The hard hot shaft of his penis blazed a trail between her parted thighs. It paused for an instant on the wet lips of her vulva and then plunged into her vagina. Darla whimpered and groaned softly.
"Ummm, yessss...." The hot spear inside her drove out any other thoughts, any guilt, any worry. It filled her cunt and fired her excitement. She began to move with his motions, pressing down onto the shaft as he drove it up into her.
She was on her back then, he on top of her, pounding and beating the rhythm of sex into her gulping cunt. She saw the stars and they lost their brightness as the glow of the intercourse filled her.
She clamped her thighs around the flailing body, holding it, demanding its fullness. She cried softly into the night for release.
The heavy cock shot back and forth in the warmth of her cunt. Ronnie had not expected the completeness of her reaction, had even been prepared to coax and tease her for a long time to get her. But she had swung quickly into the game, and now he was riding high. He slammed his pecker into the swamp of her pussy, and the deep gurgling noise it set up triggered his excitement. He pounded into her, searching for her release and relief as well as his own.
Darla felt the hot pressure mount in her uterus. She was on fire, filled with molten steel waiting to pour out. She savored the heat of the man's body in her, demanded its load. She raised her hips and met each thrust demandingly.
"Now, yes, now, give it to me! Now!!!" she cried, not sure if the sound went beyond the overwhelming need of her body.
But he understood. His cock exploded its hot load into the hugging tunnel of love. The thick mass of love juice rocketed into her, and it immediately set off her response. Juice poured from her vagina, filled her belly, mixed with his semen. She hugged his legs to her body, willing him to give her all he had.
She, was bathed in sweat, filled with him and with her own ecstasy. Everything else was blurred beyond focus.
Ronnie felt drained, and still she clung to him, pulling him into her body desperately as though she needed more. His climax had surpassed his expectations and surprised him. He'd been ready for a quick piece, a short roll, but this woman unleashed demons of fury in her need. He grinned into the darkness and thanked the fates that had put him in the hall as she came along. But now he was tired. He needed a drink.
He tried to extricate himself from her clinging arms and legs. She protested, whimpering gently and trying to pull him back to her as he slipped his drained prick from her hole.
"Ohhh, don't go!" Her voice was thin and weak.
"Baby, that's all I've got right now. I need a drink!"
"No!" She tried to grab him but he rolled from the lounge and was on his feet in an instant. She looked up at him. "Please."
He grinned. "Jeez! I wish to hell I had met you earlier tonight! Christ, you're some package!" He sat beside her as he pulled on his pants. "Let me have a drink and I'll come back. We can spend some more time together then, okay?"
She felt numb but the pain in her belly was growing and she could not deny it. "Hurry!" It was a desperate whisper of need.
He shoved his shirt into his trousers and patted her rump. "Stay right here, baby, I won't be long." He bent quickly and kissed her lips. "Maybe I'll bring reinforcements!" He turned and was gone.
She lay quivering and shivering as the pain gnawed at her guts. His last words haunted her, trying to penetrate the shell she had built around her conscience. With new horror, she realized what she had done. For a moment, shame and remorse washed over her. She had given herself-no-she had taken a stranger! Darla Sayer, roused to such passion that she had welcomed strange flesh into her own! What had happened to her? Was she mad?
The pain in her belly swelled. The alcohol had burned from her brain and left her clear-headed with stark reality. Insane? Maybe, but she could no longer deny the unquenched need in her. She was enjoying the new Darla. Just as she had enjoyed the forced rape of the two men this morning, even the horror of the lusting animal later. She had completely enjoyed Jim Rogers. And she had completely enjoyed this latest interval. Would Ronnie really come back? She hugged her knees to her, trying to make the building desire vanish. But it would not go.
Very abruptly she was aware of the sound, knew she was not alone. She lifted her face and peered into the darkness. The figure stood a few feet away from the lounge.
"Ronnie?" she whispered hopefully.
"No, Mrs. Sayer. It's me. Dave Glencoe."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
For a moment, Darla was stunned. She lay very still, hugging her knees to her naked breasts as though she could hide from the man's gaze. He moved closer to the chair.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself so much I didn't want to interrupt." The mockery in his voice was clear.
He had watched her and the man! Her depravity had been witnessed and recorded by this man who had brought her here. A web of fear caught her, but left quickly, and she laughed softly to herself. She could no longer pretend. She lowered her knees slowly.
"Mmm, yes, but maybe you knew I would when you brought us here." Even as she said it, she knew it was true. Bringing some of the tour group here had been well planned on Glencoe's part. He had sifted his clients and selected the ones who would enjoy the party. And he had selected her, knowing somehow that she was very different behind the facade of shyness.
Dave moved to the end of the lounge chair and looked down at her appreciatively. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I like my clients to be happy. Good for business."
She stretched her legs and shivered slightly. The hot fullness was still strong inside her. "Do you give personal service?"
He laughed. "Yes. Would you like that?" His tone was soft and even. There was no pretense of anything emotional. Stud service. He would screw her if she wanted it. He would enjoy it, make her enjoy it, but it would be only sex, nothing more. He had made that very clear.
Now the decision was hers. No, she had already made that decision when she succumbed to Ronnie's advances. She wanted sex. She no longer had to cover her guilt with unrealistic thoughts of love and lasting attachments. Sex was good. She smiled.
"I'd like that!"
"Good. I would too. I must say I was a little worried about you in the beginning. But after you wandered off by yourself yesterday, I knew."
He interested her. "How?"
He shrugged, setting aside the drink he held in his hand and starting to undress as she watched. "The way you looked. The armor was cracked and some of the excitement showed through." He draped his shirt over the top of the chair. "You're a very beautiful and exciting woman."
She watched him unzip his fly and let the pants slip down his hips. She had never thought of him as anything but dull. He seemed so settled and sure, slightly plump and balding. She guessed his age at about forty but his blond hair and round face gave him a boyish look. Now she watched the pale gleam of his naked belly come into view. Then the dark shadow of his crotch. She strained in the darkness to see. She felt the new excitement stir in her. She wanted to taste and test his wares, feel his manhood, know his body. She wanted to have her fill-of him or Ronnie or anyone who would help ease the terrible fire in her belly.
"Have you ever played mixed doubles?" he asked quite casually.
The question startled her and she almost missed its real meaning. When she caught it, she shook her head wordlessly.
He laughed softly and came to the chair and lowered himself to sit next to her. "It can be fun."
Again she didn't answer.
"The Waldorfs would like to play with us."
The Waldorfs, the bright young couple who smiled at everything. She should have guessed. Hadn't they said this was the third time they had toured with Glencoe?
"Would you mind?"
She licked her Ups and slowly shook her head. "No." The idea of the new experience thrilled her already.
"But first...." Dave cupped her heavy tit in his palm and wiggled it so he could watch the dark tip dance in the starlight. He bent over her and kissed her neck, then left a trail of kisses along her creamy white shoulder and down her collarbone. His lips captured the stiff peak of her tit and he nibbled it. His free hand went between her legs and found the wet warmth the other man had left there. He brought it to a foam with his rapidly darting thrusts.
Darla whimpered softly, excited and hot again. The heat had never left her actually. She needed only a touch to bring back the fever that filled her body. She swept away all thoughts of the past, or of the future. There was only now.
"I like that," she said softly through rasping breaths.
He lifted his tongue and lips from her breast. "It's delicious!" Then with a very quick motion, he pulled her to a sitting position and over his body. She fell across his lap and he pressed her face to his stirring crotch. Her mouth opened willingly and accepted the semi-hard cock that sprouted from his balls. She felt the loose foreskin where it almost covered the filling organ and she worked it back with her lips and tongue. The mushroom head of the prick popped onto her tongue and she lavished it with lapping affection. She ran her tongue tip around the shelf-like projection of the head and felt it swell fully. She closed her lips around it and sucked, moving up and down as he urged her with his hands. The beautiful full cock speared into her throat. She sighed and sucked harder.
"That's very good," he said in awe. "Very good!" His hands helped her establish a steady quick rhythm on his throbbing prick. "Mmmm!" His hands worked over her smooth flesh, touching and teasing at her breasts and between her legs. She tried to capture his darting fingers between her legs and he wiggled them against her labia and clitoris. She squirmed and forced herself harder onto him.
"Aaaaggghhh!!" It was a threat of climax. Dave pulled her face and mouth off his organ.
She whimpered in protest.
"Here, sit up." He pulled her up and indicated where she was to move. She straddled his lap and he aimed the swollen shaft of hard male flesh to the cunt he spread with his fingers. She clutched his shoulders in dizzy anticipation. He lowered her onto the flagpole.
She felt the hot stabbing organ wound her, open her and enter deeply. Her breath caught in her chest, fighting with the desire that rose from her belly. Sweet agony filled her belly and she let her weight down fully on the wonderful weapon.
"Ahhh!"
"Good?"
"Ummm!" There were no words to describe it. She waited for the shivers to subside.
Dave slipped his hands to her hips and began to rock her. She moaned and picked up the tempo, increasing it as her body came alive to the firebrand in it. She pulled and pushed, clamping her knees to his hips, letting her body slide all the way onto his. She could feel the hot poker deep inside her, pulling at the thick walls of her uterus, stirring almost forgotten places of passion. Her tits bounced against his naked chest and he breathed against her sweating flesh.
"Ohhh, I'm hot!" The words formed and were out in a single breath.
"Ride me hard!" He jerked her body to and fro, snapping her like a whip on his organ.
The need inside Darla exploded as the hard cock speared through the tiny inner muscle and entered the passage to her uterus. The fire poured out of her, flooding the hot lashing prick and filling her with bubbling love juice. She was oblivious of everything but her own pleasure, and she slammed her body against the organ with a tremendous thrust of need.
Her climax was long and wonderful. She rode the hard prick and found everything she wanted. When she finally slowed, she realized that Dave had not come. His organ was still bulging hard inside her, and the very thought excited her.
"Thank you," she whispered savagely, and he only grinned at her.
"We're just beginning, honey. You can have as many rides as you want!"
She shook her head in wonder.
"Tony Waldorf can help me out. Would you like that?"
Hypnotized, she nodded.
The man looked up and over her shoulder. "Hear that, Tony?"
She hadn't been aware that anyone else was there, but now she didn't mind. Tony's deep voice sounded heavy. "Yeah. I'm horny already. Christ, she sure rides good!"
He moved into Darla's line of vision and she was not surprised to see his naked flesh gleam in the filtered light of the garden. Nothing surprised her any more. Except the burning lust of her own need.
"Let's move onto the grass." Tony half lifted Darla as Dave rose with her still attached to him by way of their organs. They slid from the chaise longue and onto the cool damp grass. Darla clung to Dave Glencoe's slick perspiring body. She clung to the haven of sex she had found and lost herself in. She wanted the fulfillment of the promises he'd made. She wanted to experience all the wonders that her body had so recently discovered, find the joys of unleashed fury and fun.
She was only dimly aware that Tony Waldorf was lying with them on the ground. She felt his warmth close to her back, and then his flesh press against hers. She was caught between the two men, caught in what promised to be a very new and great experience. Her breasts were pinned against the sparse hair of Glencoe's flabby chest. At her ass, she felt the insistent pressure of a soft probe.
Tony whispered at her ear. "Just relax it, baby, relax. I'm going straight up your asshole. God, I'm hot for asshole tonight!"
The words left her panting. She wanted to cry out and deny that such a thing was possible. Her body was already filled with one hard male organ, there was no room for another.
But there was. With gentle but firm pressure, Tony Waldorf laid the tip of his cock to her tight anal muscle. He wiggled the organ with his hand and spread its dribbling moisture on the puckered muscle. Then he pressed his finger to the wetness and forced a small release as he -rimmed it eagerly. Darla gulped cool air into her lungs.
In that instant when her body relaxed with the deep breath, he substituted his cock for the finger and pressed it up into her. It felt like the rectal muscle would split, but Darla gulped air again and he completed the penetration. For a moment, she was dizzy with the rush of ecstasy that filled her. The hard pressure of the pole in her ass met the swollen throbbing fullness of the one in her cunt. They met in stabbing contacts inside her body, and the touch electrified her and sent shock waves of raw pleasure through her. All pain was forgotten except the pain of hot need. It flamed through her body, trying to pull her over the brink of orgasm. The two men lashed into her and she was swept on the glorious wave of repeated coming. She lost count, lost track of time that could only be measured by the hot stabbing metronomes in her.
She heard her scream and felt it tear from her lips. She came again and again.
The two men grunted and pressed into her with their own tormented needs. They seemed to communicate with each other by tempo and beating readiness. At some silent signal, they exploded like twin time bombs into her drenched body. The hot spurt of lava from Dave's cock bubbled into her cunt, whipped to froth by the continued lashes of the organ. The triggered explosion in her asshole burned her tender tissues, but at the same time catapulted her into another violent orgasm. The shock and thrill of her first asshole fucking left her breathless and panting.
When the two men finally slowed their movements in her, she lay limp and drained between them. Her head spun in dizzy whirling patterns of joy. The night closed around her.
Dave pulled out of her cunt. "Wow! I knew it would be good, but that was something!"
She was pleased by his exclamation and she smiled in the darkness. Tony pulled out of her asshole and the sharp stinging pain made her moan softly.
"You can say that again! You sure can pick women, Dave!" He laughed softly and bent to retrieve his clothes. "I'm going for a swim in the pool. I need to cool off after that one!"
Darla closed her eyes and suspended her mind. When Dave asked her if she wanted a swim, she shook her head without answering. She was dimly aware of his departure, and of his promise to return with both of the Waldorfs.
Mixed doubles, Darla thought. That was what he had promised. But they had taken her alone. Two men and her. Two plunging, dedicated organs to treat her royally and bring her to heights of orgasm she had never dreamed possible.
What had happened to her? She could hardly believe the change that had taken place in so short a time. It had begun with the man in the church and her terror at his advances. She had moved gratefully, yet shyly, into the proffered friendship of Jim Rogers. The friendship had progressed to sex, and she had discovered she liked it. The madness that followed from there was a fuzzy blur of almost forgotten faces and forms, but it had brought her to this point--lying on the cool grass, naked and satiated with the sex play that had satisfied her in every way. And she wanted more. Yes, she could not lie even to herself. She had enjoyed it, and she wanted more. Now that she was turned on to the new thrills of sex, she wanted to discover everything there was to discover, try everything there was to try.
She bit her lip at the startling self-revelation. The change in her feelings, her attitudes, was so remarkable that it still stunned her. She was thinking in terms of sex, pure and uncomplicated. Sex without the strong emotional attachments she had bound Win with. Sex and love did not necessarily have to always be together.
Win. Oh, Win. Would I have discovered all these things with you? She pressed her face to the grass and smelled its sweetness.
Jim. Would she see him again to test her new feelings on him? Was he part of the old dream of love, or was he the beginning of the new reality of sex?
Slowly she sat up and reached for the clothes Ronnie had stripped off her and dropped to the ground. She gathered them in her arms and stood up. She had to clean up before she could go anywhere. The pool? Where was it? A shower, maybe?
For some reason, she didn't want to face the two men just yet. Getting used to the new Darla was an adjustment. She wanted to be alone for a little while at least. Then....
She peered down the narrow path that tunneled through the brush. She saw the white outline of a small building. Beyond she heard splashing. The pool. Maybe it was a bath house.
She moved forward slowly. Her body still ached with the unaccustomed body contacts that had been so pleasurable. She opened the door of the building and was rewarded with the soft glow of light that showed the shower stalls and, beyond, a sauna.
She stepped into a stall and adjusted the water quickly. The stinging spray made her blood race again, and she felt the soreness ease away. She thought of the last shower she had had, the one where Jim washed her so gently but surely.
Jim. Where was he now? What time was it? With a guilty start she realized that she hadn't thought about his problem for several hours. In the excitement of sex she had banished it completely from her mind. Was he all right? Was it midnight?
She toweled herself with one of the big terry
cloth rectangles that hung along a rod on the wall. The bath house was very quiet and she was alone. From outside, she could hear the laughter and splashing from the pool.
She dressed quickly, unwilling to parade naked before guests who might come by. She dug her watch out of her purse and squinted at it in the low light. Eleven. One hour to midnight.
She left the building and tried to orient herself in the garden. She began walking back toward the spot where she had been with the two men. The house lay beyond that, she knew. Right now, she wanted the lights and the gaiety of the crowd.
She pushed past a low-hanging bush. A figure loomed in front of her. She made a small sound of surprise, then froze as fear rooted her to the spot.
The man from the church, the one who had made his brazen attack on her, blocked her path.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
For a moment, Darla was too surprised and frightened to move. She gaped at the man, trying to change the truth. But he stood in her way defiantly. She made a quick move, darting sideways to try to get past him. He grabbed her arm.
She was beyond screaming. She struggled and yanked her arm, but he held her fast. His eyes were like burning embers in the dim light from the pool area.
"Let me go!" Darla's voice rasped in her throat.
"Be quiet, you fool!" His command was urgent and harsh.
She tried to catch him off guard and move backward, to flee back to the safety of the pool and other people. But once again he was alert to her plans and he moved lightly and surely to keep his grip on her.
"Stop it and be quiet," he said again.
Something in his voice made Darla stop struggling. She knew it was futile, she was no match for his strength. Just as she had been no match for it at the church that morning. Jim had rescued her then. Would anyone help her now?
"Come with me," the man said quickly. He began walking along the path, away from the pool.
Toward the house, Darla thought. If they went to the house, the crowd of people would provide the safety she needed. Or would it? She thought about the drunken merrymakers, mauling and pulling each other around, bent on fun and laughter. Would anyone notice that her struggle was real?
At the end of the path, the man cut across the grass, slipping under some low-hanging willows. For a moment, Darla thought he was taking her to a hidden spot, such as the one Ronnie had led her to not long ago. The garden seemed to be full of them. Even now, she could hear the soft murmuring voices of lovers on the grass and the harder pleasant sounds of intercourse being performed. She blushed in the darkness at the easy acceptance she gave the thought.
But that was not their destination. Quite suddenly, they were at a small gate, and the man fumbled with the catch. Then the gate was open and he was pulling her outside it. Now her panic welled again. She did not want to be alone with him on the street. She opened her mouth to scream but only a whispered cry came out.
"Be quiet, you fool!" he warned.
He pulled the gate shut and leaned against the wall of the garden for a moment, listening. Night sounds filtered through the warm air around them. And under them, another sound that brought a chill to Darla's body and brain. The low, insistent growl of a dog.
The man signaled her with his finger to his lips. She held her breath and stood very still. Then at another signal from his hand, she moved quickly with him as he ran lightly down the narrow sidewalk. The sound of the dog had been far more terrifying than the idea of being alone with this man. In her fear, she was sure the dog was Devil.
At the corner, the man paused, looked both ways, then hurried her across the intersection. When they were finally in the shadows of the tall trees and houses on the opposite side of the street, he slowed to a brisk walk. Darla was breathless, her chest heaving.
"Where are we going? Where are you taking me?" she finally managed to ask.
"Jim sent me."
The statement hit her sharply. With sudden clarity, she remembered seeing Jim and this man in the doorway. She remembered her fear and the certainty that she had somehow been duped. Now he was admitting his connection with Jim! She stared at him but he didn't turn around. He was intent on his purpose. Hurrying to escape the scene behind them? Or to reach the one ahead? She was confused and sick. Was there no end to this horror?
"It's almost midnight," the man said abruptly.
The deadline! Darla had forgotten about the even more sinister events at the strange apartment, the woman and dog, the threat to both her and Jim. Now it came back to overwhelm her. Midnight, and this strange man seemed to know the special importance of the hour.
"Jim?" She whispered his name softly.
"He sent me to get you away. That woman knew where you were. He did not want to take any chances."
"I don't understand." But somehow her fright diminished. Jim had sent him, and the idea comforted her even though she didn't understand.
They were walking at a steady pace now, staying close to the shadows and dark walls. He led her with purpose toward an unknown destination.
"Is Jim all right?" she asked quickly.
The man grunted a response. "He wants you out of harm's way."
"But I was! I was with the tour group. He told me to stay with them." Her protest rose from her confusion.
He laughed softly without humor. "Glencoe is in with them."
It was like a cold wave of water over her. "Glencoe? Dave?"
"Yes. We did not know until just a few hours ago. He set up the trap with the woman." The man's voice held an edge of contempt.
"Please, can't you tell me what this is all about? I don't understand."
He shook his head. "No time now, We have to hurry." He quickened his pace.
"But where is Jim?"
He shook his head again. "Later. If all goes well." He sounded very unsure.
Darla chewed at her lip in worried concentration. Somehow, she trusted this man now, knew he was trying to help her. She wanted to ask him about the incident in the church but she could not bring herself to. It had all begun there, she knew. And none of it was accidental. She knew that just as surely.
She thought about Dave Glencoe. If she had any idea what was going on, she might be able to see how he was involved. Obviously it had something to do with the strange dancer, Devil's Girl. And she was the one who threatened Jim now. Had it been Devil she heard growl beyond the garden wall. She shivered at the thought.
They turned onto a bright street and the man slowed his pace. The sidewalk was crowded with people walking and sitting in front of the tiny cafes that dotted the block. The man slipped his arm through hers casually as though they were simply out for a stroll, but she could still feel the unmistakable pressure of his grip on her.
"I don't even know your name," she said suddenly.
He looked surprised. "Sebastian."
"Can you tell me where we're going now, Sebastian?" she asked.
"To your hotel. As soon as you get your things together, I am taking you to the airport and putting you on a plane to London."
"London? But why?"
"You must get out of Paris, that's why. Now don't ask foolish questions and hurry." He looked away, closing the subject for good.
It was six blocks to the hotel but they were there in a short time. Sebastian propelled her through the lobby and into the elevator. He looked around nervously as she unlocked the door. When they were inside, he slipped the chain across the lock before he relaxed.
"Where is your suitcase?" he asked quickly.
She opened the closet door and he reached up to the shelf and lifted down the cream-colored bag. He dropped it on the bed and snapped it open. He began pulling dresses from hangers in the closet and tossing them next to the suitcase. "Pack!" he ordered.
She moved mechanically, folding garments and stacking them quickly in the bag. He emptied the dresser and brought her underwear and cosmetics in a heap. She dumped them on top of the dresses. She felt some of his urgency now, and she knew that time was important. In ten minutes, everything was packed. Sebastian glanced around the room quickly to see if they had forgotten anything. He saw the paperback dictionary on the nightstand and the small alarm clock. He swept them up and threw them on top of the case.
"Lock it," he said. He stepped to the door and listened at the panel while she snapped the locks on the case and turned the tiny key in the lock. She dropped the key in her bag and clutched the purse as he returned to lift the suitcase and motion her to follow.
He turned off the light before he opened the door. He eased it open two inches with the chain still on, peered through the slit. Satisfied, he shut it again and lifted the chain. He tiptoed along the hall lightly on the balls of his feet. She felt nervous even though the hall was empty.
Sebastian pushed the button and they waited for the elevator to ascend. He cast nervous glances at the needle above the door as it moved slowly from one to seven. Finally they heard the low rumble of the mechanism and the doors slid back slowly.
It happened too quickly for either of them to react in time. The two men saw them first, stepped forward and yanked them into the car. The terrible recognition hit Darla as she stumbled forward and against Henri's smooth jacket. She heard the suitcase thump to the floor as Jon jerked Sebastian forward and slammed his fist against his head. Sebastian grunted but managed to stay on his feet. He was evenly matched with the short stocky Jon, but Jon had the element of surprise in his favor. In the few seconds it took Sebastian to gain his balance, Jon had wound his arm around the other man's neck in a tight hammer lock.
The doors of the elevator whispered shut and the cage began to move. Henri's arm around Darla's throat kept her from making any noise. It was all she could do to breathe. Henri pushed the nonstop button and the elevator moved steadily downward. Darla watched the flicking lights until the car stopped at the basement. The doors opened again and Henri pushed her forward and out of the cage.
The basement was musty and dark. Somewhere in the distance a small light burned and an airconditioning unit hummed. The quick scrape of her suitcase along the floor sounded very loud as Jon shoved it out with his foot, then forced Sebastian forward. The elevator doors closed and the cage moved upward again, empty.
Darla was faint with lack of oxygen but Henri did not loosen his grip. She knew that the two men no longer had to be gentle. D.G. had sent them for her again, and this time there was no way out. She tried to question Sebastian with her eyes, in the desperate hope that he might still have a solution, some plan that would get them away.
It was then she saw the knife. Jon held the glittering blade with its needle point right at Sebastian's throat. In the gloom it almost looked as though a thin line of blood already stained Sebastian's throat above his shirt collar. She moaned but the sound was a strangled gasp as Henri's arm closed like a vise.
Her eyes were wide with fear. Jim! Jim! Her mind called out to him, but she knew it was useless. Midnight was his deadline too, and if he had not escaped to safety already, she knew D.G. had him. She thought of the woman's performance at the night club and of the sharp warning in her words in the dressing room. She knew it was too late.
The two men dragged the struggling couple away from the elevator and into the bowels of the basement. They seemed to know their way around, and turned into the twisting corridors and passageways deftly. They passed a hall that led to a lighted area of supply rooms, passed the boiler room where huge tanks hissed steam and whistled readiness. They passed a line of garbage cans where the pungent odor cut off the little air Darla could breathe. Then they were at another door. The men stopped.
Darla had to bend over as Henri put his hand to the knob and slipped the door open. Cool night air washed over her and Darla breathed quickly. The man holding her checked the dark alley outside. He nodded to Jon and closed the door quietly. Darla heard a strange gurgling sound and her eyes swiveled to Sebastian.
The thin line along his throat was widening even as she watched. The blood oozed almost in slow motion, then spurted as the knife finished its course across his neck. For an instant, the big dark bubble hung obscenely at the end of the cut. Then it burped into a steady flow that soaked into his shirt collar. His eyes were wide with surprise. His tug at the other man's strangling hold lessened. His face looked very pale in the eerie flickering light of the dim basement. The collar of his shirt was wet and red. Sebastian seemed to crumple in Jon's arms.
Slowly, Jon lowered the still body to the floor. He stood over it a moment as though waiting for one last struggle. When it didn't come, he grunted and wiped the knife blade quickly on Sebastian's pants. Then he slipped it into his pocket and reached under Sebastian's arms for a new grip on the body. Grunting and straining, he dragged him away from the door and into a small dark space behind the garbage cans. He looked at the concrete and was satisfied that no trail of blood indicated the corpse's whereabouts. He straightened and nodded to Henri.
Cold horror spread over Darla. Sebastian was dead! Killed quickly and quietly because he was an added threat to the plan these men tried to carry out! Nausea rose in her throat but it was forced back by the tight grip Henri still had on her. For a moment, the nausea became dizziness, and Darla yearned for oblivion. But even that would not come. Henri let up the pressure and air rushed into her lungs. The door opened again and she was pushed outside.
The alley was very dark. When the basement door shut behind them, its faint light cut off, Darla stared into the black night. Above she could hear sounds of the hotel, vague clinking of dishes from the kitchen, voices, even music. At the end of the alley a block away, she caught a glimpse of moving traffic and people on the street.
It wasn't possible that these things could be so close and that she could be so helplessly in danger! The nightmare had to end soon! She was so frightened that she could no longer even shake or think about her fear. It had become part of her, part of her being and fiber. She breathed it, swallowed it, moved with it. There was no hope left.
Henri moved forward with her and then she saw the truck. It was parked in the dark recess of the alley. It was a small van, painted black. Like a hearse, Darla's mind shouted.
Jon opened the back doors and Henri shoved her in. Her shins rapped sharply on the edge but no sound came from her parched throat. She fell into the truck. Henri was right behind her. He squatted next to her and reached in his pocket for a large handkerchief. The doors slammed, and another one opened.
The motor spurted to life even before the second door shut. Henri yanked her head around and stuffed one end of the cloth in her mouth. As the truck bounced out of the alley, he tied the handkerchief as a gag around her mouth. Her tears fell noiselessly onto it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Darla bumped and banged against the greasy floor of the van as it moved out of the alley and along the city streets. She could see nothing but the murky gray interior of the truck and the man hunched beside her. Neither of the men spoke, but instead concentrated on their purpose. From time to time, Henri glanced at Darla as though checking her bound mouth and assuring himself that she could not cry out. He had not tied her hands or feet, but she was as powerless under his gaze as though she'd been chained.
Chained. The thought made her gag as she remembered the room with the cameras and lights. Was that where they were heading now?
She tried to push against the cloth in her mouth to salvage some moisture for her thick tongue but the gag was too tight. She felt strangled, trapped. Her ribs hurt where a ridge of the floor bit into her and stabbed with each bounce.
Gradually she was aware that the lights outside the truck windows were becoming less bright. The streets seemed darker and quieter. Then the truck slowed, went around a corner and stopped. The night was very still as the engine died.
Henri stayed hunched beside her until Jon came around and opened the back doors of the van. Then he skidded out and the two men pulled her along the floor until they could stand her on her feet outside the truck. The cool air helped her tortured lungs and throat, but not much. Jon closed the doors quietly and each of the men took one of her arms and steered her forward.
They were at the warehouse again. Darla recognized the heavy metal door with its huge bolt. It made a dull thudding sound as Henri opened it but it glided on noiseless wheels. They went inside.
It was darker than night for a moment and they stood adjusting their eyes to the blackness. The men started forward again pulling Darla with them. She saw the sliver of light under the door ahead.
The hall ... past the black bedroom ... past the huge filming room ... into another large room. And once more, Darla was taken completely by surprise. She would have gasped if her mouth had been free.
The room was about twenty feet square, with a high ceiling and a cove that splashed a soft bath of blue light against the ceiling and down into the room. The room was white, from the thick carpet that covered the floor, the white plush divan that dominated the center of the space, to the stark white walls that shimmered under the blue light, looking cool and shadowy. As she stared, Darla realized that the walls were not white, but mirrors that threw back the reflection of the rest of the room. All four walls were flat mirrored glass sending back the picture of the frightened girl, grimy and disheveled, standing between the two men. She stared at her image and found it hard to recognize. Her eyes were huge discs in her pale face. Her hair, tousled and matted, seemed to have lost its usual luster. It was as if the whole evening had transformed her into someone else, someone she did not know or like.
Henri released his grip on her arm and busied himself with her gag. She moved her tongue carefully when the cloth was finally out of her mouth. The pressure and cloying dryness had left her throat sore, and she could barely swallow. She stood very still and watched the two men. They seemed to be following instructions, moving with definite purpose and intent. When Henri had tossed the gag to a small white leather chair near the door, he motioned to Jon. Jon began unbuttoning Darla's dress without a word.
She didn't think she could speak if she tried. But she knew there was no use. She stood very still, not totally surprised, as the two men stripped off her clothes and dropped them onto the chair. She shivered slightly when Jon knelt in front of her and pulled down the nylon panties and stockings and glided them down her legs and off her feet. And somehow, over and beyond the memory of the sex acts that had happened in this place this morning, Darla knew she was being readied for D.G.'s whims. The white room was not to be soiled. The white room was a backdrop for D.G.'s black beauty and the sleek black body of the dog. Anyone in the white room had to meet D.G.'s exacting standards.
Jon picked up the bundle of her clothes and slid back a mirrored door and deposited them behind it. Then he took Darla's arm and led her to another glass panel a few feet away. He left her in the entrance to the gleaming white bath. The door slid back in place as he moved back.
She looked around, knowing again that she was expected to clean up so she was fit to be in the white room. Her fright had given way to dull knowledge that she could do nothing to prevent what was going to happen. Wherever this deadly game had started, whatever it was about, it was entwined with the warped needs and mind of the woman who called the rules. The evil in the woman had to be met.
Numbly, Darla moved to the basin and picked up the white cloth. She held it under the warm water and lathered her face with it, scrubbing away the grease smudges and the dust and dirt of the ride. She scrubbed her arms and the few spots on her legs. With a white comb she found on the small shelf, she fixed her hair until it was soft and light around her face. Then she turned and waited for the door to open.
Several minutes later, the panel slid back. She stepped back into the white room.
D.G. stood near the center of the room, hands on hips. She had changed her costume since the last time Darla had seen her in the night club. Still dressed in black, she now wore a very sheer pair of lounging pajamas that were loose and airy about her body. The cloth was barely a shadow on her ripe, full figure. It clung lightly to the high mounds of her breasts, bulged where the hard nipples pushed forward from their huge aureoles of dark puckered flesh. The outfit tapered at her slim waist and rose with the curve of her full hips. Her legs were apart slightly and the stance seemed to draw attention to the apex of the V where the darker shadow of her triangle of hair marked her crotch.
Beside her left foot, Devil sat at stiff attention, his tongue red and long, lolling over his glistening sharp teeth. His eyes moved to Darla as she entered the room, but his body was motionless.
The dull ache of panic tried to climb in Darla's chest but it was too heavy. She stopped and waited.
D.G. looked at her for a long time. Her gaze held Darla's hypnotically. It wasn't until D.G. moved and stepped forward that Darla realized there was someone else in the room.
On the huge white divan behind the woman and the dog, Jim Rogers lay naked. He looked dazed but his eyes were open, staring at the white ceiling and blue lights above him. Darla felt a flurry of fear at the sight of him. She moved forward instinctively, but a sharp growl from the dog stopped her quickly.
"What have you done to him?" Darla whispered hoarsely.
D.G.'s mouth curled in a smile. "You should have been more worried before. I warned both of you, but you would not listen."
Darla shook her head. "You're the one who wouldn't listen." A sob caught in her throat. "If I knew what you wanted or where it was I'd give it to you!" Her frantic, pained glance sought Jim again.
D.G. shrugged and the huge domes of her breasts jiggled under the tight cloth. Her disbelief was evident. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped aside to glance at the naked man on the bed behind her.
"A pity he wouldn't listen."
"Is he all right?" Darla whispered.
"He'll come around in a few minutes. He doesn't cooperate as well as you did. They had to help him a bit." Her eyes were cold and flashing.
Darla wondered what kind of madness drove her to her calculated fury. The madness was clearly there, only its source was hidden. Darla felt another wave of leaden fear cover her.
"Get over here." The sharp command grated in Darla's ears. She moved forward as D.G. inclined her head to show her the precise place she wanted her. Next to the white divan.
Darla slid her feet along the thick shag carpet without taking her eyes off D.G. When she got to the bed, she stopped and swiveled her gaze to Jim. Her heart raced.
Even in this horrible moment of confusion and fear, she knew that she wanted him. His naked body was bathed in the soft blue light that made it look like cool marble. But she knew it was warm and soft! Her belly tightened and she forced herself to look away, back at D.G. and the dog who had turned his massive head to watch her.
D.G.'s half smile was cold. "I would not like to kill him. He is much too beautiful and too delightfully built between the legs." She raised her eyebrows in high arches. "Of course I could have him first and then kill him." Her glance swept over Jim's nude form eagerly.
"No!" The cry came unbidden from Darla's lips. Her hand pressed against the sudden pain in her breast.
D.G. shook her head slowly. "Then you'll have to convince him to stop being stupid and give me the papers." Her voice was razor sharp and slicing.
"I'm finished playing games!" It was almost a snarl and the dog looked up at D.G. alertly. His response to the tone of her voice was uncanny, but he sensed the changes in it. Darla could see the tight muscles of the animal's neck ripple as he cocked his head.
D.G. went on. "I'll give you a half-hour. After that-" she shrugged. "There will be no more time." With that, she turned and looked at the dog and made a soft sound in her throat. The dog trotted to the corner of the room and lowered himself to the white shag carpet, head between his paws, eyes keen and watching. D.G. walked swiftly from the room. The mirrored panel moved silently and closed as soon as she had passed it.
For a moment, Darla stared at the flat mirror where the woman had vanished. A half-hour. She looked at the dog but the animal stared back unblinkingly. She looked at Jim.
A sob rose in her chest and she sat down beside his naked body and put her hands on his chest. She suppressed a shiver at the feel of his warm flesh. "Jim! Jim! Wake up!" She shook him gently. His head flopped loosely. She called his name again and shook him harder. He groaned softly but did not open his eyes. The minutes ticked away with the pounding of her heart.
She buried her face in the curled hair of his chest and felt her hot tears begin. "Jim! Wake up, please! We have so little time!" Her palms coursed over his body, trying to coax him awake and trying to find her own comfort in touching him. Maybe it was no use, but she felt so helpless. She had to try to convince him to meet D.G.'s demands. She wanted to live, and she wanted him to live too!
"Jim! Ohhh, please, darling!"
He stirred slightly and his eyelids fluttered but did not quite open. His breath came out in a long drugged sigh. Darla put her face close to his and let her trembling lips touch his cheek first, then move to his mouth. He was unmoving under the soft embrace. Tears spilled over Darla's eyelids and fell gently to his skin. She kissed him again.
This time there was a spark of life. His lips worked silently as his mind tried to focus and come back to life. Darla trembled and held him close, murmuring his name over and over as she kissed him and held him.
Finally his eyelids moved up in slow motion. For a moment there was no recognition, then startled, he tried to sit up. But he was not clearheaded enough, and he fell back in a spin of dizziness.
"Oh, Jim, darling! Be careful. Take it easy. I don't know what they gave you!" She was whimpering and trying to hold back the tears.
He blinked several times and finally his eyes cleared. "God, my head feels like a balloon!"
"They drugged you. She said you resisted."
He closed his eyes a minute trying to recall. He looked at her. "Yeah, I was-" He broke off quickly and started again. "Sebastian! Did he find you?"
At the sound of Sebastian's name, the sight of his lifeless body slumping to the basement floor pooled in its own blood flashed into Darla's mind.
She choked on the cry. "Oh, Jim! Sebastian is dead!" She bit her lip. "They caught us as we were leaving the hotel and they-they killed him!" The sob erupted and broke her voice, Jim was stunned, but after a moment he put his hand to her face and brushed back her hair lightly. "You poor kid!"
She sniffled and laid her cheek on his. "Oh, Jim, it was horrible!" Quite suddenly she remembered D.G.'s threat as she left them together. "Jim!" She raised her head and met his gaze.
"Huh?" He was still slightly fuzzy and a little bit slow.
"She said we only have a half-hour. I only have a half-hour!"
"For what?"
"To make you change your mind! She wants the papers, and she says she'll kill you if she has to! Oh, Jim, give them to her! Nothing can be worth dying for!" She clutched him and tried to crawl inside his warmth.
His arms came up to hold her close. She was very aware of his warm body against her naked flesh. Her breasts were firm on his chest, her waist against the curve of his waist. She wished she could forget everything but his closeness and her own desire. Even in fear, the need in her belly began to grow, desperately, longing for him in what might be her last minutes.
"Exactly what did she say?" Jim asked. His voice sounded very faraway and hollow.
Darla thought hard. "She said she was through playing games. That I had to convince you to stop being stupid and to give her the papers. She said I had a half-hour and that was all." She looked at him again. "Jim, what are these papers? Why are they so important."
His hand brushed her cheek, and quite suddenly he pulled her face down and pressed her lips to his in a hard kiss. His tongue speared into her willing mouth and rolled over her teeth and tongue. A shiver, not of fear this time, shook Darla. When Jim finally let her go, he said softly, "God, I'm sorry, baby! I should never have dragged you into this!"
"Into what?"
"This whole lousy mess! Look," he said, running his fingertip along the angle of her jaw lightly and teasing the tip of her ear. "I can't tell you any more than that. Believe me though when I say I'm sorrier than hell! You're a sweet kid and I like you one hell of a lot. I never would have-oh, hell!" He seemed unable to go on and he pulled her into another kiss quickly. This time his tongue was urgent and demanding in her mouth.
Darla was swept high on the crest of the new passion that built in her. For a moment she forgot the spot they were in, she forgot the fleeting time they had left, she forgot everything but the gripping pain in her groin as her need filled her. She clung to him.
He stroked her hair and her hip, his fingers trailing urgently over her naked flesh and transmitting his desire to it. For what seemed a very long time, he said nothing. Then he sighed softly. "Don't be scared, baby. Maybe I have one chance left. I'll have to try, anyhow."
She looked up quickly. "A chance? What? How?"
"Shhh, never mind. It has nothing to do with you. No, that's not true, it's got everything to do with you!" He yanked her down for another kiss. "But I can't say any more. How much time do we have left?"
"I don't know. They took my watch."
He grinned. "I like you stripped this way." His hand touched her tit where it lay on his chest. "You're beautiful!"
"Oh, Jim!" she cried, and clung to him again. "Easy, baby. Here, get up here next to me!"
She moved willingly, stretching her body full-length along his. He turned and made contact along the length, his hard angles against her soft curves.
"If I only have a few minutes left, I know how I want to spend them."
She couldn't ask the question. She looked into his gray eyes.
He nodded. "Fucking you. Forever."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Darla was swept into the passion that exploded inside her at his words. She lost track of her fear and the pressing time that had become a threat to both of them. When he pressed his hard organ to her crotch, she remembered only the wonderful ecstasy she had known with him that night in the hotel room. She wanted him again. She wanted to find solace in his lovemaking, in the balm of sexual fulfillment he promised.
In the comer, the dog watched intently, his huge black eyes sending off glittering darts of light like burning coals.
Jim captured Darla's tit in his hand and began to caress it lovingly. He found the rosebud nipple and pulled it gently out to become turgid between his fingers. He played with it and bent his head to put it between his lips and roll it over his tongue. Darla moaned softly.
His cock hardened and Darla felt the heavy pressure of it between her legs. She moved her thigh, exposing the dampness that had already collected on the lips of her vagina. The spearing penis slipped over the folds and into the damp haven.
"Ohhh!" Darla's belly was burning.
Jim angled his body so his swollen cock came up between her legs and boldly opened the heavy wet lips so it could penetrate her hot hugging tunnel. It paused on the wet threshold for a moment, then entered her body with a rush of excitement. He sucked air into his lungs as the delightful hot flesh smothered him. Darla gasped in need and delight.
They lay facing each other, bodies together completely. He pulled upward and she felt the hard tug of his ramrod cock on her tender clitoris and the hairs of her pubic area. She opened her mouth to tell him how good it was, but words failed her. Instead, she smiled and parted her lips for his willing kiss.
He twitched his pelvic muscles and his prick did a tiny dance inside her. She almost squealed with delight. They might have been in another time and another place, far away from the horror of the threat over them. They knew only each other's bodies and needs. They concentrated on them.
"God, baby, you're so warm and wonderful! Why didn't I know you a long time ago?" He put his hand on her ass and traced the path of the cleft between her buttocks until he found the tight ring of her asshole. His fingertip touched it gently, then harder, rimming it and trying to force it open. Darla was filled with a hot flood of memory of the two men who had taken her in the garden and the fire that had erupted inside her when Waldorf fucked her asshole. She shivered now with new delight at the touch of Jim's finger at the sensitive spot. She shivered even more at the firm steady pressure of his cock in her cunt.
He began to move now, back and forth so his penis slipped gently in and out of her pussy. Their quick bursts of breath were matched in tempo and eagerness. Darla felt the hard pain of excitement growing in her.
"Oh, Jim! Jim!"
He rolled her onto her back with a quick motion, and in almost the same one boarded her. His glistening wet prick slipped back into the warm wet haven immediately and she raised her legs to clamp him close. She felt the quick surge of need swell in his cock and she felt the soft but firm slap of his balls against her sensitive flesh. She tried to tell him of the roaring flames that consumed her, the tight hard pressure of impending climax that had already built, the need, the desire. Her mouth opened, her tongue flicked. He fucked in and out of her with a hard steady rhythm.
The dog growled savagely and unfolded its body from the corner where he lay. For a moment, he stood crouched, ready to spring. He growled again, louder.
Darla heard the sound but it didn't register in her crazed brain. She was totally involved in the sex act, oblivious of anything else.
Jim saw the animal move. He completed the forward plunge into her. The dog snarled again and began to slink toward them. Jim hesitated in his backward stroke, came forward again and stopped.
The dog was advancing steadily now, like a beast of prey stalking its victim. Darla was caught in the suspended motion and her own lust. She looked and saw Jim's glance past her. She hesitated, then turned her head to see what he was looking at.
The sight of the dog only a few feet from the bed sent a shock of terror through her. The animal's pulled-back lips and sharp, glistening teeth filled her with panic. It clamored inside her with the hot rush of desire, meeting and fighting for supremacy. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her tongue thick. She forced her gaze away from the animal and back to Jim's pale face.
His voice was barely a whisper. "Damn!"
The animal inched forward with another snarl and a low throaty growl that hovered in the room.
"Stay still," Jim warned.
Darla had forgotten about the dog until now. He had been silent and watchful but now he was threatening them clearly. She remembered the dog's obedience to D.G.'s commands when she had been chained on the satin bed in the film room. And the animal's rapt attention and devotion to D.G.'s every move and command on the stage of the night club. Now, the dog was obviously responding to other training.
The room was a still film. The two figures on the bed could not pull themselves apart nor could they finish the wonderful thing they had started. The dog, the vicious sentinel, watched and waited.
The mirrored door opened soundlessly and D.G. entered the room. Neither Darla nor Jim was aware of her until she had crossed the white carpet and approached the bed. She spoke to the dog first.
"Good boy."
The animal whined softly without taking his eyes off the bed.
Jim turned his head slowly and evenly. "You bitch!"
D.G. laughed softly. Darla turned to look at her. For a moment, it was difficult to take everything in at once. D.G. was standing much the same way Darla had seen her when she first entered the room, legs spread, hands on hips, face scowling and eyes dark. But now, the gossamer film of black was gone. She was naked. What had been thinly disguised by the lounge suit was now exposed blatantly. Her body demanded attention.
"You talk a very brave game, Jim Rogers," D.G. said softly, with a hint of respect in her tone.
"You play a dirty one."
She laughed. "You are not the one to call me names!" Her tone changed quickly and all the laughter was gone from it. "You had your chance and thought you could outwit me! Now you know differently. I mean to win, make no mistake about that."
"Yes, I know that too well now."
"You should have listened, my friend. Maybe you will now."
The room was quiet, a silent tableau as the bodies held rigid in their poses. The man and the woman on the bed still caught in the act of copulation. The dog guarding and watching. The woman hostile and evil.
Darla felt trapped in the wordless interplay. Her body was still wet and hungry for the end of the story Jim's organ had begun in her. Even with the dreadful interruptions, the scathing danger that lay around them, she could not turn off the demanding need that filled her belly. It was as if this were the end of the world, and her world could not end without having Jim one more time.
She watched D.G. with wary eyes.
Jim said softly, "Yes, I'll listen."
D.G. did not answer right away.
"You're right, of course. I know there's no possible escape."
The naked woman made a small sound and the dog looked at her. She studied Jim several seconds longer and then flicked a look at the dog. She spoke to the beast with her eyes. He backed up slowly until he was in the comer again, then he folded his long body to the floor. The tension in the room eased a trifle. Jim and Darla looked at D.G.
"So, you are being smart." She let her long look take in the two bodies glued together in their interrupted need. "And sexy." There was a heavy pause. "Go on, fuck her. Finish what you've started."
Darla swallowed, not sure if she felt relief or fright. Jim looked at the standing woman a long time.
She smiled carefully. "I said finish. I want to watch, to see if you are worth having before we part."
Jim tensed and Darla could feel the quick twitch of his prick inside her cunt. His eyes narrowed, then he smiled. "Sure, it might be fun at that!"
He-turned his attention back to Darla and his quick warning glance told her to say nothing. She didn't understand, but she wet her lips and waited for his next move.
It came inside her. Slowly at first, but building to faster and faster strokes, he pumped his swollen cock between the juicy walls of her cunt. It didn't take long for his hard urgent strokes to wipe away all thoughts except her need. She forgot about D.G. She forgot about the dog, Devil. Her hungry eyes yearned for Jim, and her body took him eagerly. Her thighs were tight on his swinging hips, her legs clamped to the warm flesh of his ass, pulling him close each time he came down into her.
Her cunt was slushy with thick wet fluids that poured from her sex organs. Her need bubbled and boiled and brought his cock to white heat and pounding readiness.
Darla was suspended in the web of passion, her entire body tingling with the hot desire that flooded her. She breathed through parted lips, tongue flicking to communicate soundlessly. Then the dam burst. Her uterus contracted to a tight ball, then quickly exploded its load of juice.
"Aaaahhh!!" It was a cry of ecstasy and fulfillment. Her body gave itself completely to joy of orgasm. Her hips rose and fell in beat with his pounding cock.
Jim had only a second's thought for the woman standing watching them. Then the hot need of the woman under him erased everything but the bursting pressure in his guts. He slammed his prick into the wet hole of her cunt. It grabbed and tried to swallow him. It demanded and he gave. His ejaculation was fast and hard, thick and hot. He exploded his semen into the gulping pussy that drank it greedily. He pounded and slammed, giving her what she wanted and what he had to give. It was a long time before his thrusts slowed and he finally came to rest, sweating and drained. He looked down at her and knew that her orgasm had been as great as his own.
They held the position, panting and unwilling to move apart and end the delight they shared. It was D.G. who broke the silence.
"Not bad. Rather good, as a matter-of-fact."
Darla tensed, and Jim backed off her slick damp body slowly. He turned to look at their jailer.
"It was at that," he said smugly. He sat a moment on the edge of the bed and leaned his elbows on his knees. D.G.'s gaze went to his heavy sex equipment in admiration. Even after ejaculating, his cock was a long thick promise of more. She licked her lips.
"Yes, I think you would be very good. Very good." She smiled and looked at him from under hooded lids. "Mmmm, yes." She seemed to be thinking it over. Then, her decision made, she snapped her fingers. Devil sprang up in a fluid motion and crossed to her. She pointed and the animal sat on its haunches close to the bed.
"Come with me, lover boy," she said to Jim.
Darla looked at the dog in terror. D.G. laughed softly. "If you stay put and don't cause any trouble, he won't hurt you." The threat that the animal would attack underlined the casual statement. Darla cringed in fear.
Jim rose slowly from the white bed and stood in front of D.G. She couldn't take her eyes off his dangling cock and the heavy balls that swung behind it. Her eyes glittered brightly. She motioned with her head and he followed her across the room. She touched the hidden switch and the mirrors parted to reveal the gleaming white bathroom once more.
Darla was numb as she looked past the massive head of the dog who sat very close to her side. She watched D.G. and Jim move into the bathroom.
The woman didn't bother to close the door behind them. She wanted to torture Darla by making her watch.
D.G. turned the taps of the shower in the glistening stall. She motioned and Jim stepped under the spray. D.G. reached for the bar of soap and began working up a lather on her palms. She stood just outside the opening of the stall, splashed lightly by errant spray but not entering the shower itself. Jim let the water cascade over his body and waited for the woman to begin.
She began at his shoulders, rubbing her hands in wide circles over his muscles and down his taut chest. She lingered at the tiny hard pips of his nipples and played with them as though she might bring them as turgid as her own. After several minutes she resumed her route downward. Her palms caressed his slim waist and narrow hips. She reached around his body and stroked lather to his ass, filling the crevice between its spheres with her fingers and the foamy soap. He stood very still while she found his asshole and tried to insert the sudsy fingertip into it. Finally, she moved her hands around to his front again and went after his cock and balls. Everything else had been a prelude to this moment. D.G.'s breath became labored and her mouth could no longer contain the flicking, darting tongue. It speared out and ran a hungry path over her glistening wet lips. Her knees bent slowly and she knelt on the white rug that came right to the stall door.
With loving strokes, she lifted the softened penis and began to soap it. Her hands covered the thick limp organ and coaxed its length from its sheath. She forced the heavy-rimmed head of the organ out and then traced its edge with her fingertip.
Jim felt the first new indications that he was coming back to life. The woman's hands were exciting and eager. His organs had no choice but to respond to the firm strokes she applied to them. She cupped her hand under his balls and squeezed them gently as she raised them from their nest of dark hair. With her other hand, she applied the soapsuds to their entire surface, taking time to touch every line on their corrugated surfaces.
In the room beyond, the dog watched Darla, and Darla watched D.G. rouse Jim.
D.G. was intent on the pleasure of the man's growing need. She spread the white suds over the tip of his cock and then, using her hand like a pump, forced the ruby-red head to poke its way out of the foreskin and foam. She smiled and licked her lips again. The warm water flowed over Jim's body, half drenching the woman as it splashed and sprayed. She seemed not to notice. She was completely absorbed in her work.
The penis sprang to new life, filling and swelling with desire as the woman coaxed it to new heights. Jim stood, legs spread for balance, and let the black-haired beauty do what she was so good at. Her talented hands roamed and reached, rubbed and riled. He felt the hard knot of pressure begin behind his balls. He felt no emotion toward the woman, only physical lust. She would be something, he knew. And he had a plan to use her passion to his advantage.
D.G. dropped the soap to the floor of the shower and finished her cleansing actions. Then she pushed him further back under the needle spray of water and let the rivers wash him clean. It was Jim who reached up and turned the water off when the last trail of soap had run down his legs and he glistened with wetness. D.G. opened her mouth and moved her head to his body, taking the now-stiff offering of his dripping cock between her lips. She flicked her tongue over the swollen tip, piercing the tiny crevice and forcing it open as far as it would go. Jim braced himself against the sides of the stall and enjoyed her hot lips and quivering tongue.
D.G. enjoyed it too. Her lips widened to a round O and she pressed forward on the promised delight of the cock. It slithered into her waiting oral cavity with a rush that pleased her and a firmness that was exciting. She began to sway back and forth, tasting and teasing the prick with the rhythmic sucks. She moaned softly and put her hands around his wet body and pulled him close, sinking his cock as far in her mouth as it would go.
In the bedroom, Darla whimpered with frustrated need and love. The dog made a tiny sound in his throat as she moved forward. She lay back quickly.
The woman on her knees was throwing her body forward in great thrusts now. Her hungry devouring mouth was sucking off the cock with frenzy. Her huge tits bounced on her ribs and whipped forward to hit the man's thighs each time she plunged onto the cock. She used her body like a weapon, lashing him and beating him to fire. The muscles of his belly rippled and tightened. The hot tongue drove him crazy, but he stood unmoving under it.
D.G. lavished her need on the spearing organ. Her uterus was a solid fist of passion and it gripped her entire body. She licked and lapped at the cock with hot loving jabs, sucking him hard and trying to make him come in her mouth and throat. But his resistance was too strong. She should not have let the bitch in the other room have him first. Then her hot need burst in her belly, her vagina pumped out love juice and her cunt and thighs grew wet and warm as the released secretions spurted from her and overflowed her pussy. She felt the heavy trickle move down her hot thighs and she jolted the cock far back in her throat. It was maddeningly hard and held its load. She shivered with delight as a new wave of passion began to stir immediately in the wake of the finished one. She had to have him!
She pulled herself off the delicious probe of flesh and looked up at him, lips parted, mouth quivering. "Make love to me, man! Now!" She sprang to her feet like a cat and yanked him from the shower stall and back onto the thick, white rug. She spread her legs wide and trapped his descending body between them.
His prick was a javelin thrusting between them.
She opened her body for it, and drew him with her hands and eyes. She made hungry animal sounds in her throat as the gleaming organ approached her cunt.
He touched the tip of her vulva but pulled back without entering.
"Don't tease! Damn it, fuck me!"
"Bargain time, baby." Jim touched the head of his cock to the juicy wetness, but pulled back again.
"Damn you!" D.G. dug her fingernails into his back and tried to complete the entry through her own strength. He was too strong for her. He I grinned and teased her with another touch.
"Uh-uh." He winked at her. "Hot pussy needs me now?"
She nodded furiously.
"Only if we settle something first."
"Anything! Damn it, fuck me!"
He shook his head and dribbled fluid along the slit of the hungry mouth of her vagina. "Bargain first."
"Christ! Anything! Just hurry!" She was shivering with the hot lust that consumed her body and mind. Her sharp fingernails raked his naked flesh and drew blood in their eagerness.
"Me for the girl. I fuck you, I take you to the papers. You win that game, but you let the girl go."
"Damn!" The need fought with her pride and common sense.
He touched the hot lips of her cunt again and entered a fraction of an inch into the passage. D.G. groaned and he yanked out of her grip.
"I'll call the dog!" she threatened.
"No you won't." He grinned at her. "You want me this time, not that trained animal. His cock doesn't compare to mine and right now you're so fucking hot you need a man. You need me!"
She groaned and tossed her head so her long black hair splayed out on the white carpet. "Fuck me first!"
"No. Promise. I'll take your word."
Her tortured eyes rolled and she desperately sought an answer to her dual desires and problems. There was no answer but his. She bit her lip until she tasted the salty blood. "Yes, yes. I promise. Anything! But fuck me!!" The last words were a scream that made the dog's ears stand erect and straining.
Darla saw Jim's triumphant grin. He shot a quick look at her across the space that separated them. A tight pain hit her chest and made Darla whimper.
The man let his weight fall forward and his cock speared into the waiting wet tunnel. The woman twisted her body to spear him deeper. Her legs wrapped around him, jerking him down and onto her writhing body. He humped violently into her, pleased that he had won his victory, even at the cost of perhaps his own life. He thrashed against her hot pubic hair, felt the tight pressure of her thighs on his body, felt the urgent sucking need of her cunt on his prick.
The woman holding him began to moan in bursts of taut need. The pitch of her cries rose to a wailing sound. Then, with teeth clenched, she rasped air into her lungs. She beat his naked flesh with her fists, pounding and slashing at him as her climax built and exploded. Her body became a living, moving mass of orgasm. She filled with hot demanding secretions that drowned the glowing coals of his cock. They triggered his load and it shot out and met hers.
Darla listened in anguish to the sounds of pleasure that came from the other woman's lips and body. She pressed her hands to her own belly to still the pain that filled her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When Jim finally climbed off the whimpering, delighted woman, she was glassy-eyed with her body's delight. She looked up at the man who had brought her to such heights of satisfaction.
"Very nice, lover, very nice," she said. Slowly she curled her body on the furry rug and then sprang to her feet. With a laugh, she turned the shower on again and stepped under the water. She scrubbed her body quickly and harshly. Jim stood by the door and waited until she was done before he went in and washed quickly. She was still waiting for him on the white rug, towel outstretched when he emerged.
He took the towel with a grin. "This wasn't part of the bargain," he said lightly.
She half closed her eyes. "Make it part now."
He rubbed her body dry, lingering on its highlights, teasing and testing her flesh with the rough cloth. She stood expectantly, enjoying each stroke. Twice, she flicked her tongue out past her white even teeth like a snake. She was still hot, and her desire was building quickly.
Jim patted his own body dry and then flipped the towel over the rack. "Call the dog off so she can shower too."
D.G.'s eyes hesitated, then she turned and whistled to the black animal. His ears dipped back then flattened against his head. Slowly he got up and walked across the room. In the corner, he lay down again, watching his mistress.
"Come on, Darla," Jim called. "You're leaving. Shower and dress as fast as you can."
Darla got up, and with a quick glance at the dog, crossed to the bathroom. D.G. didn't move, and the other girl had to squeeze past her. Jim turned on the shower and motioned for her to get under it. He watched D.G.
Darla's heart pounded furiously as she cleansed herself and then quickly turned off the water and toweled herself dry. D.G. moved aside and out into the large room as Darla finished washing. D.G. touched the switch that opened the closet and pointed to the pile of clothes that Darla had donned so many hours ago at the hotel. Darla dressed, trying to smooth the wrinkled and stained dress where the dirt and grime of the truck had ruined it. She took the comb from her purse and ran it through her short hair quickly and then touched a lipstick to her pale lips. She turned and waited for the man and woman to join her. Jim was standing beside D.G., his fingers tight around her wrist.
"No way, baby. We get dressed, we take the chick to the airport. Soon as she's on board and the plane is gone, I lead you to the papers."
D.G.'s eyes narrowed to glinting flints. "How do I know I can trust you?"
He laughed softly but his grip didn't loosen. "Same way I know I can trust you. No way. We keep our eyes on each other every minute. You have more to lose by not taking the gamble than you do by going along."
"I don't like the odds."
"You have no choice, baby. And either way, you still have me." He winked suggestively at her.
She stood looking at him for a long time. Finally she nodded her head slowly. "All right. Your clothes are in that closet." She moved across the rug and flicked a button to open another mirrored door. Then she whirled, and after a quick look at Darla still standing near the closet, she went out of the room.
Jim waited until the glass panel had closed behind her, then he beckoned to Darla. While he began pulling on his clothes, she ran to him. "Oh, Jim, what are we going to do?"
His whispered answer came quickly and urgently. "We're going to do exactly what I said. Go to the airport, put you on a plane. That's the end as far as you're concerned."
"What about you?" Darla voice shook with fear and concern.
He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, baby."
"But-"
He held up his hand to silence her. "No buts. You get on that plane and fly away from this whole scene. There's a London plane leaving about an hour from now. With luck, you'll be on it." He shoved his belt through the loops and yanked it around his waist.
"Look, honey, I'm sorry you got involved in this deal at all. It looked like a good idea to talk to you that day, but I see now it was all wrong. Go home, forget about me. You'll be able to start over again now." He smiled briefly. "You've discovered some nice things about you. Life can be worth living now."
She caught her lips between her teeth and sobbed. He was dismissing her, putting her out of his life. But he was doing it for her own good, to save her from the fate he would still face alone.
"What will she do to you?" The hoarse whisper dripped with fear.
He shrugged and looked away. "Maybe when she gets what she's after she'll decide to keep me around as a pet. I don't know." He didn't sound convinced or convincing.
Darla knew he was trying to put her mind at ease. And just as surely, she knew that neither of them believed what he said. D.G. would kill him, just as she had killed Sebastian. Whatever this demand was she made on him, it didn't erase the deadliness of the game they played. It had been a struggle to the kill all along. Now, Jim was bargaining Darla's life for his own. He would have to produce the papers the woman wanted. And then she would not have any further use for him. She would dispose of him quickly and quietly. She would not let emotion or feeling change her purpose. She was a woman without emotion. Her acts of passion had shown that too clearly. Her lust was physical, like the dog's. They were both devils. Darla shuddered.
Jim was ready and he propelled her toward the closed mirror of the door. They stood and waited. After a few minutes, the panel slid back and Henri motioned them out.
He led them to a car parked in the alley. D.G. was already in it. They climbed in, Jim first so he could separate the two women with his body. It was as though he wanted to shield Darla from any further contact at all with the woman dressed again in her black outfit. Henri opened the front door of the Mercedes and let Devil jump onto the seat before he climbed in and yanked the door shut. Jon, behind the wheel, pulled the big car into the traffic-less street.
They headed for the airport.
It was a silent ride, each of the occupants of the car engrossed in his own thoughts. Darla fought the rising tide of panic that swelled from her belly to her chest, almost cutting off her breath. She stared out the window, watching the unfamiliar streets glide past, seeing the people, other cars. The world was out there but she was cut off from any contact with it. She knew she had to do what Jim had told her. Get on the plane and leave. Leave him to whatever fate D.G. had in store for him.
It seemed like an endless ride to the airport, but the big black car finally disgorged them at the ramp. Jim gripped Darla's arm and walked close to her. He looked over his shoulder and signaled Henri to carry the suitcase that Darla had forgotten completely about. It seemed like years ago that she and Sebastian had thrown her clothing into it at the hotel. Sebastian. The vision of his slit throat and the red blood draining from it with his life brought her a quick pain and wave of nausea. She swallowed quickly and breathed deeply through her mouth. Jim squeezed her arm.
At the ticket counter, he spoke in rapid and flawless French to the agent. A few minutes later, the man passed a ticket across the counter in exchange for the money Jim pushed to him. Jim picked it up and took Darla's arm again.
"Come on, they're boarding the plane already." He hurried her along the concourse toward the gates.
Darla was painfully aware of the woman and dog only a few steps behind them. It was almost as though the dog were breathing on her legs. She heard the short rasping breath as he strained forward.
At the boarding gate, D.G. stepped in front of Darla and Jim. "One moment."
"Not now." Jim tried to push Darla forward but D.G. snapped her fingers and the dog blocked the way with a low growl.
"Where are the papers?"
"As soon as the plane is off the ground."
D.G. shook her head. "Now."
Jim looked at the steward who was readying the door for closing. The man held up his hand to hurry them if they were boarding.
"Hold it." Jim called to the man. He turned back to D.G. "I'll make such a stink you may be sorry if you break your word. The papers are in a locker in the train depot. I'll give the key and number to you as soon as she's safe."
D.G. hesitated, then made a silent signal to the black dog. Devil backed out of Darla's path. Jim pushed her forward. She stopped and looked at him with tears in her eyes. He leaned over and kissed her lightly and very quickly. "Run along now, baby. The man's getting impatient." He shoved her toward the steward and the ready-to-close door.
Darla sobbed and stumbled down the ramp.
On the plane, the hostess checked her ticket and showed her to a seat near the window halfway down the plane. Darla sat and closed her eyes as she listened to the sounds of readying the aircraft for departure. The door whooshed shut, the seat belt and no smoking signs lighted. The noise of the engines filled the space and Darla's ears.
The plane slipped slowly backward away from the ramp. As it turned toward the runway and began moving forward again, Darla peered through the round glass. Was it her imagination or could she see Jim and D.G. and the dog beyond the sheen of the glass? Then, it was gone. The flat reflection of the runway lights made the window a pane of shimmering light. The cabin lights dimmed and the noise rose in her ears.
The plane shivered as the engines revved, and then in a burst of power the plane spurted forward. Darla felt herself pressed to the chair back, pinned by the force and the seat belt. The noise changed suddenly and the rough jouncing vanished. They were airborne.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Darla was sleepy and heavy-eyed when the plane finally touched down at the London airport. It taxied to a stop and she got up wearily. She gathered her purse and waited for the other passengers to leave before she stepped into the aisle. Then, very slowly, she left the plane. She was numb from sitting still so long and numb from the dizzying thoughts that had whirled through her brain without release during the entire flight. The pain of her last sight of Jim was a throbbing thing in her breast, and the tears had long ago been used up; she was hollow now, a shell.
She waited in line at the customs table, spotting her bag on the conveyor and signaling the porter for it. He lifted it to the table as her turn came.
The inspector looked through the untidy pile of garments. Darla showed her passport and looked away as she thought once more of Sebastian. Dead. And Jim. Was he dead now too? Had D.G. gotten the papers she sought and disposed of Jim immediately? Or would she take him back to the strange hidden apartment and use his body until she was tired of it?
She jumped slightly when the man touched her arm. "Miss Sayer?"
"Mrs. Sayer," she corrected automatically. She'd have to stop doing that, she chided herself. It put people off so quickly. She looked at the man.
He was dressed in a plain gray suit. Over his arm he carried a light topcoat. His hat dangled from his curled fingers.
"Yes, I'm sorry. Mrs. Sayer. Would you be kind enough to step into the office for a moment?" He indicated an open door.
She looked at him, wary suddenly, afraid to trust any stranger. Her recent experiences were too fresh in her mind.
He saw her hesitation. He reached into his pocket and took out a wallet. Flipping it open he showed her the I.D. card. "Scotland Yard. We would like to talk to you a moment."
Dazed, she let him lead her into the office. Two other men were already there, one sitting behind the big desk, the other standing close to the door. He closed it as soon as they entered.
Darla felt hemmed in, frightened and alone. "Please, sit down." It was the man behind the desk who spoke. Darla took the chair opposite him and waited. Her palms were wet but her throat was as dry as sand.
"You left Paris on the two-oh-five flight?"
She nodded. They had just met the plane, and they already knew that. The man glanced at the papers on the desk and then he laced his fingers into a bridge and looked over them at her.
"You were escorted to the plane by one Jim Rogers, an American, Cheri Qualer, a night club singer known as Devil's Girl, and...." he paused significantly, "the dog, Devil?"
Again she knew he already knew these things and his questions were not really questions. He was testing her. But why? Did they have something to do with the papers that D.G. wanted so badly and that Jim had tried so hard not go give her? The papers for which Sebastian had given his life?
"Mrs. Sayer, we'll have to ask you to open your suitcase again for us."
Surprise made her ask the question before she realized it. "Why?"
"We have every reason to believe that Mister Rogers or his accomplice, the man called Sebastian, put something in the case. Something we want and need very much." His eyes were still friendly but they hinted of darkness.
She looked at him, and then quickly at the other two men in the room. They were all staring at her intently. Without conscious thought, she shook her head again. "No, there's nothing. Only my clothing."
The man lifted his eyebrows. "You packed alone?"
"Yes-no, Sebastian helped me. But I have nothing and Sebas-" She broke off unable to continue and not sure she wanted to unless she knew what this was all about.
The man leaned his head to one side and shifted his gaze to a point just between her eyes. "Mrs. Sayer. I am from the CIA." He reached into the desk and pushed a card across the desk for her to look at. She read the words without touching it, afraid again. This is not a game we're playing. I'm sure you know that by now, Sebastian's body was j found in the basement of the hotel only a half-hour ago. Our men lost the trail and Jim Rogers is as good as dead already, unless of course he somehow managed to escape the woman, the dog, and the two body guards. But that's highly un-likely."
Darla felt a sob bubble in the depths of her IS throat. She too knew it was un-likely, even impossible that Jim had escaped. Maybe-if she told them about the strange hidden apartment. She tried, blurting out the words so they tumbled over each other. She didn't know the location, and could offer no guidelines on how to find it. The CIA man shook his head.
"Not much to go on, but we'll give it a try." He motioned to the third man in the room, who picked up a phone and spoke softly into the mouthpiece. After several minutes, he hung up and shrugged as he turned back to look at the man behind the desk. "Interpol is on it, but-" He didn't finish.
But it wouldn't do any good, Darla finished silently. Jim was dead. She felt it, an empty, lost feeling that filled her.
"The suitcase, Mrs. Sayer, please." He was being patient.
Darla snapped open the locks and threw back the lid. The pile of rumpled, pawed clothes looked worse than ever. The man leaned across the desk and lifted the paperback French-English dictionary from where it lay on top of her underwear.
"What's this? Where did you get it?" His eyes changed again in the bright light.
"Why-" She remembered with a start. "Jim gave it to me. At least he bought it for me and left it-"
The man wasn't listening any longer. He was flipping through the pages, checking them with concentration. After a minute, he stopped and went back a way. Then he rubbed his hand down the page. He did the same thing several more times, then he looked at the other two men with a triumphant grin.
"This is it." He handed the book to the man standing closest to him. "Get it to the code room as fast as you can."
Before Darla had a chance to say anything, the man sprinted out of the room. The CIA man behind the desk smiled at her.
"We have what we're looking for, Mrs. Sayer. Jim Rogers got it through after all."
"I still don't understand," Darla said in confusion.
"Jim Rogers was working for us."
"But-"
"His cover as a school teacher was perfect. We needed someone who could move about Paris without being noticed, someone who was not one of our regular agents."
"A spy?" She could hardly believe it.
The man laughed softly. "We don't call our people that. They are working in the service of their country. Good citizens."
"Dead citizens," Darla said bitterly. New pain gripped her heart.
The man almost shrugged but not quite. "The risk is made clear to each one before he takes the job. Unfortunately, this time the risk caught up with Jim. But he felt the price was worth it and he volunteered for the job, or maybe it would be more correct to say he didn't hesitate to take it when it was explained to him. Jim Rogers was a man who liked danger, suspense, surprises."
Darla bit her lip. He talked about Jim in the past tense, so he was sure he was dead. It made it seem so final. Tears stung her eyelids and she blinked quickly to force them back.
"We're sorry to lose him. And we're sorry for the trouble you became involved in. We'd like to make it up to you by letting you continue your vacation, say here in England? The Bahamas? Spain?"
Darla shook her head. "No thank you. I'd like to go home, if that's all right."
"If that's want you want."
"Yes." She rose from the chair and the Scotland Yard man snapped her suitcase shut and lifted it from the desk, then stood ready to escort her back into the terminal.
"There's a New York flight in two hours, Inspector. See that Mrs. Sayer gets a seat on it."
The Scotland Yard man nodded.
"Good-bye, Mrs. Sayer. And thank you for the important part you played in getting this information to us."
"I don't suppose I can ask what it was, or is?" She looked at him.
He smiled. "Sorry, that's classified information. But I want you to know you've done your country a great service."
"Jim and D.G. talked about papers. How did he get them into the book?" she asked.
He hesitated, then smiled. "Pin dots. Code. It was clever of him to think of the dictionary. It was a natural for a tourist."
"He picked me deliberately?"
"He must have known he had been spotted. Poor chap."
Darla could not fight the tears any longer. They slipped over her lids and coursed down her face. She turned away quickly and went out the door the inspector held open for her. The noise of the terminal buzzed around her as she followed the man across the concourse.
Jim Rogers. Dead. Darla Sayer. Alive. Yes, alive. Jim had done that for her. He had brought her to life, brought her out of the shell of misery and self-pity into which she'd closed herself. He had taught her to love and to live.
Love ... Jim-no, she knew she did not love him, not the way she had loved Win. Love was something that grew slowly and built to a final great wonder. Jim had shown her something else. He had shown her that she could enjoy life and sex even though she had lost the man she loved. She was alive! She walked more quickly, feeling new spring in her steps.
Silently, under the hum of growing noise in the huge building, Darla murmured, "Thank you, Jim."
