"Do you like me like this, Susan?" Marie looked up at me. "Oh, yes, yes! I love you like that! So ... nonconformist. Why haven't we tried it before?" She shrugged, smiled sweetly, and began again.
I closed my eyes and surrendered completely, enjoying Marie as no other had ever enjoyed her. It was madness, but it was a sweet kind of madness and I welcomed it as one with a burning thirst welcomes a cooling drink.
I heard her moan then, and my excitement suddenly rose to an unbearable pitch! I twisted, turned, and became a "non-conformist" myself. It was like a dream ... but like all dreams it ended. And when it did ... I knew I had a problem.
CHAPTER ONE
Marie Weber's tactics, where men were concerned, were so unscrupulous and direct that she embarrassed me at times. Not by any stretch of the imagination a pretty girl (indeed some thought her downright homely), she had, nevertheless, more than her share of sheer animal sex-appeal. Her figure was adequate-being generously endowed in the breast department; her legs, too, were extraordinarily long, full and well shaped.
Marie was a frank speaking, passionate girl who made no bones about her large requirements sex-wise. We worked together in the same office building as secretaries, and shared the same apartment, same clothes, same queen-sized bed ... and ... occasionally, the same man ... or men!
It was on the first day of August (and a hellishly hot day it was!) that our respective bosses (both lawyers) told us they had decided to take a three month vacation together; they gave us one month's wages (a pleasant .surprise) and told us to report back for work three months hence. We both had some money saved, so the prospect of three idle months wasn't at all gloomy; indeed we were so gay and excited about the unexpected turn of events that, driving home in Marie's car, we babbled like a couple of idiots. "What'll we do, Marie? Shall we fly to France?"
"Too far and too much money, Susan. Let's stay home and have a different man over every night!" she raised and lowered her eyebrows rapidly.
"Oh, Marie! Be sensible. How about a trip down to New Orleans?"
"Why?" she grinned, driving too fast and too carelessly-as she always did when she was excited. "Why be sensible, Susan?"
"I know!" I cried. "Let's take flying lessons! Or maybe a trip to South America!" her carelessness was contagious.
"How about a trip on a sailing boat, Susan? Just you and me ... and seven or eight husky young boys...?"
But two days later, having calmed down by then, we came to a sane decision (or at least it seemed "sane" at the time). We'd drive down the west coast of Mexico-all the way to Acapulco, taking our time, stopping over at various points of interest on the way down. Both of us spoke a little Spanish; the trip would be inexpensive; we'd meet new friends ("some handsome Latin lovers", as Marie phrased it) and have some new experiences. ("New experiences" is right!)
The next forty-eight hours were extremely hectic-there were clothes to be packed, prescriptions to be filled (to prevent the "Montezuma curse"), visas to be obtained-and then there were typhoid shots to be endured and maps to be studied. By the time we were on our way-rolling south from Los Angeles towards San Diego-we were as tense as election-night politicians. Not ten miles out of town, Marie suddenly drew in her breath in a loud hissing sound and jammed on the brakes.
"What's wrong, Marie?" I peered ahead looking for some obstruction on the road.
"You're looking the wrong way," she said; pulling over to the side she looked up into the rearview mirror. I looked back. It was a man-or in a few years he would be. Carrying a canvas duffle-bag over one shoulder, he was grinning broadly as he approached the car.
"Might as well have some masculine company for awhile," Marie commented. "Get out, Susan. Let him sit between us."
I got out; he nodded politely at me and smiled as he got in.
"How far you headed, ma'am?" he asked Marie as he sat down beside her.
"Depends," she shrugged, glancing sideways at him.
"Oh, just joy-riding, eh?" he glanced politely at each of us--his voice modulated, but very confident.
"More or less," I nodded; climbing in beside him and closing the door I surveyed him quickly. He was of medium build, a bit on the tall side. His skin was very fair, and he had thick black hair and rather startling blue eyes. He was quite good looking.
"I'm headed for Mexico, myself," he said, and I noticed then that he had a slight drawl.
"Oh, Mexico, eh?" Marie nodded. "Where in Mexico?"
He shrugged and smiled. "Just as far as half my money will take me."
"And then?" I asked.
"And then back to Los Angeles, I guess," he shrugged.
"How old are you?" Marie asked (she was quite open about such things; at times to the extent that she was just plain rude).
His answer, probably a lie, I won't divulge ... some publishers are nervous about the ages of a book's characters, and I'd hate to have such an insignificant detail prevent this story from being published.
"Oh, really!" Marie smiled, looking as if she didn't believe him. "And what's your name?"
"Jerry. Jerry Kell," he said, obviously somewhat distraught at Marie's candor.
And then Marie pulled one of her characteristic stunts: dropping her hand to the boy's thigh, patting him lightly, she said, "D'you like sex, Jerry?"
He reddened, fidgeted, looked down at her hand and said, somewhat apologetically, "It's okay ... I guess."
"You mean you don't know?" Marie flashed him an amazed look.
"Marie, stop it!" I shifted uncomfortably and looked daggers at her. She smiled vaguely and withdrew her hand from his leg.
"Put it back ... if you want," he said, nearly whispering.
"Oh!" she looked past him, flashing me an amused look, "you like being touched, eh, Jerry?"
"Yeah ... I guess so," he nodded, flushing red to the ears.
So Marie "touched". Dropping her hand to his thigh, she ran her fingers up and down in a light caressing motion. I glanced down and saw the rising proof that indeed he did enjoy being touched. And then-"zipp"-I heard her as she reached to liberate him. I heard her little gasp of surprise and pleasure then and, risking a quick look, I gasped myself-for our hitch-hiker, boy though he was, had qualities that many men would envy!
"Like that?" Marie asked him, and her voice squeaked shrilly.
"Uh-uh," he replied-and then, after a long sigh, he added, "I sure do!"
"Why don't you ... lend a helping hand, Susan," Marie said. "There seems to be more than...."
"Yes, I know," I cut her off. "More than enough for both of us." And then I reached down and closed my fingers lightly and he sighed jerkily and slumped low in the seat.
"Damn!" he exclaimed, and I noticed that his eyes were closed and that his expression was one of almost pious concentration.
"Damn is right!" Marie hissed. "There's a side road. Let's pull over and see if we can ... work things out."
We pulled off the road, into a thick clump of trees-and no sooner had the car come to a rocking halt than Marie was up on him, wriggling like a skewered eel!
"No fair!" I cried, and then began tearing at the buttons of my blouse (I had never in my life even worn a brassiere). Accomplishing this, leaping up beside the squirming Marie, I pressed my breasts to Jerry's flushed face and he took one of them with a grateful groan and began lolling the nipple hungrily. Watching his action, listening to Marie's squeals and grunts as she began to reach the outer limits of culmination, I reached down and began to stroke myself fervently. And when Marie settled down-all the way-and vibrated in orgasmic ecstasy, I felt the boy's mouth drawing frantically at my nipple and knew that he was reaching his pinnacle at the same time! I dug fast, hard, trying to catch up-and as their climatic cries reverberated in my ears ... I "caught up".
Turn about was fair play! I took Marie's place, lowering my pulsating machinery there with an impatient lunge-and squealing in surprise and pain when I learned that my eyes were bigger than my ... capacity. Quickly achieving my event, I climbed off to rest ... and received one of the most poignant shocks of my life! Marie, who appeared to be in an almost blind funk of passion, shoved me back against the far door-so that I was more or less propped across Jerry's lap; then, bending forward towards me, drooling and mouthing strange little cries, she began to kiss me in what was, to say the least, a most "non-conformist" fashion.
I was startled at first, and tried to rise. But when Jerry pushed me back and began nibbling again at my nipples-I relaxed and let them both have their way.
"You're beautiful, lady," he paused momentarily to whisper to me.
"Name's Susan," I whispered in his ear. "And ... down there ... her ... Marie," I added, beginning to pant and resisting an impulse to ululate wildly.
"Some introduction," he smiled, then bent again to his nibbling.
"Yes," I sighed tremulously. "And some surprise, too." And then, "Oh!" I cried out, as Marie, with a prodding forefinger, prodded me where I'd never been touched before. And then, "Oh-o-o-o-o!" as she began to move that finger in a beckoning fashion. And, "Oh-o-o-o-o-o! Marie! Marie! Marie!" as her attentions brought me to the most thrilling and titillating arrival that I had ever experienced.
"Your turn, Susan," Marie urged me, moments later. But I, turning as red as Jerry had earlier, shook my head and grinned foolishly.
"Not ... now, Marie," I said lamely; she shot me a disgusted look and, surprising me once again (but not nearly as much!), bent over-Jerry, giving him the same treatment she'd given me. Then she stopped, looked up at me wistfully, and said, "Your ... hand. Would you mind, Susan?"
"Well ... I ... well ... okay," I said, deciding to relent to that degree. But as I began, and as I felt the soft, pliable moistness of that tangled labyrinth, something came over me ... a strange, compelling desire. I fought it, concentrating on my play-but it was no use. With a sobbing cry of mingled relief and desire ... I turned over, twisted, and returned that "non conformist" kiss she'd lavished on me. I was slightly repelled at first-and I held back. But then-absorbing the miasmic redolence of that sopping chemistry, I soon bent to my task with carnal squeals of sheer idiot joy! Indeed, so utterly enthralled did I become that-when she reached her quivering denouement, I was pulled into the vortex of her culminating lust to the extent that I myself culminated!
She turned to me seconds later, eyes heavy lidded, a soft smile of gratitude curving her wet lips, and said, "Thank you, Susan. That was marvelous. I'm so glad we've finally ... broken the ice."
"Let me have him now, Marie," I said-and she moved aside, smacking my bottom playfully as I bent to administer to the droopy-eyed boy. Kissing him there lightly, stroking him with thumb and forefinger, I brought back to full life and vigor what had began to droop and die. And I knew, as I kissed away, that I was only trying to redeem myself in my own eyes. And I knew, too-when he reached his apogee and I received his hot spewing love-that I was still a man's woman ... that my "impulse" with Marie had only been a thing of the moment: pleasurable, undeniably so, but engendered more by the madness of our scene than by genuine need or tendency.
Finally it ended. Marie pulled a bottle of brandy from the glove-compartment, we all had a reviving drink, and then she said, smiling broadly, "Let's get a room, freshen up, take showers, have a drink or two, a good steak ... and then hit the road for Mexico."
"Mexico!" Jerry looked at both of us. "Really? Are you headed for Mexico too?"
I nodded; Marie nodded.
"Well, then ... can I ride part way with you? You can dump me any time you want."
"Why not?" Marie looked at me and shrugged. "We might just need a sort of ... body-guard down there."
"Yes, we might at that," I nodded in agreement. "Hey! This is swell!" he beamed. "And you girls won't be sorry, believe me. I'll come in real handy."
"No doubt you will," Marie agreed; I nodded and sighed. And it was thus that two became three and we met Jerry the "handy man".
CHAPTER TWO
We crossed the border the next morning (after a delightful night!) at Nogales, Arizona and headed down the narrow paved road for our first stop-Santa Ana, Mexico. Jerry was an excellent driver, so Marie and I settled back, relaxed, and watched the scenery (which wasn't much-mostly barren hills and cactus).
It was just before noon and hot as blazes when we pulled in the sleepy town of Santa Ana.
"Man, I'm thirsty!" Jerry exclaimed, wiping dry lips with the back of his hand.
"See if you can find a tavern," Marie told him. "I think we could all use a drink."
"No kidding," I nodded. "Something tall and cool."
"There's a joint," Jerry twisted the wheel, pulling under a huge tree that sat next to a bright yellow sign that read: CANTINA-CERVESA-LIC-ORES We got out and walked in. The place wasn't crowded. Two Mexicans wearing broad sombreros were sitting at the bar drinking Mexicali beer; the bartender, a thin, swarthy man with a bushy black mustache, frowned at us and nodded. Not wanting to order something he didn't have (he looked too mean) we asked for beer. He opened three bottles and shoved them towards us across the bar without glasses.
"Glasses for the ladies, please," Jerry spoke up, his tone polite but definitely stern. The bartender complied, looking balefully at Jerry as he did so.
The place was shabby, dark, without even a jukebox; we drank quietly, intent only on quenching our thirsts so that we could get out of there and be on our way. Halfway finished with our beers, the bartender leaned across the bar and said something to Jerry in a low voice. Jerry nodded-uncertainty darkening his face-and said distinctly, "Okay, I'll try some."
The bartender reached beneath the bar and came up with a small tin container-the size and shape of a small box of aspirins. Sliding the container across the bar towards Jerry, he grinned and winked, glancing suggestively at us. Marie gulped the rest of her beer, looked at me and said, "Let's go. This joint's for the birds."
We left. And as we closed the car doors and roared off in a cloud of dust, Marie asked Jerry what the bartender had sold him.
Jerry shrugged, grinned sheepishly and said, "Supposed to be some kind of passion-pill. I didn't really want 'em, but that guy looked like he might get nasty if I refused."
"More than possible," Marie affirmed.
"I'm glad we picked you up, Jerry," I told him.
"I wouldn't've cared to have a drink in that place without a man."
"You girls hungry yet? Shall we stop here in town for something to eat?-or d'you want to drive on to Hermosillo?"
We looked out at the run-down, dusty little village.
"I'm not that hungry," Marie intoned.
"Why don't you drive on to Hermosillo, Jerry?
That's a fairly large city. There'll be clean restaurants there and...."
"... And a motel with a pool where we can shed some of this dust and ... maybe try some of Jerry's pills," Marie interjected.
"Know what I'd like you to do?" Jerry turned to Marie with a shy grin. I had climbed in the back seat where I could stretch out.
"I'm not sure," Marie shook her head and smiled. "But I think I've got a good idea."
"Would you? Marie? While I'm driving? I'll move the seat back. Would you? You know ... like yesterday...?"
Marie didn't bother to answer. With a swooping gesture she bent, disappearing from my view-and moments later I saw Jerry's face relax and heard his sigh of deep satisfaction. Watching his face in the rear-view mirror-the way his mouth worked, his half-closed eyes-it's a wonder that I saw the dark, huddled obstruction on the road ahead.
"Jerry, look out!" I shouted; he cut the wheel sharply, we veered to the right, careened wildly, straightened and came to a screeching stop.
"What was that?" Jerry twisted around, looking past me through the rear window.
"I don't know," I replied, turning too. "Why ... it's a person ... a ... a woman," I added, watching in disbelief as she hurried towards our car.
"You'd better put things away, Jerry," Marie muttered. "Whoever it is, she's headed for the car ... and she looks awfully young."
We stared at her, rather dumbfounded, as she approached Jerry's open window. She was young, perhaps a year or two younger than Jerry. But she was so lovely, so breathtakingly beautiful!-that she resembled a wax doll! She was dressed in a simple Mexican smock, sort of a shift. She was wearing sandals. Her hair was long, straight and blue-black, her teeth perfect and white as pearls; her lips parted in a smile of relief and she said, in immaculate English, "I'm so glad you stopped. Please forgive me for putting you in danger-but I must get to Hermosillo, and several cars have ignored me completely."
I opened the back door for her. "We'd be happy to give you a lift," I smiled warmly at her; she smiled back at me, glanced at Marie and Jerry and got in. Jerry drove off.
"My name is Juanita Alverez," she began. "I was riding home ... to Hermosillo ... with my fiance and ... he began taking certain liberties. I told him to stop the car and let me out ... not dreaming he would actually do so. But as you can see, he did," she smiled sweetly and rolled her eyes. "My father will have him flogged and turned out of town," she added, compressing her lips primly and nodded.
We drove on for awhile in silence. Jerry, I could see, was staring open-mouthed at the girl through the rear-view mirror. Marie glanced back at her once or twice, a scanning glance that had more than a measure of admiration (and perhaps jealousy) in it. And I must confess that I too kept stealing looks at her. She was sitting with her hands folded demurely in her lap; she wore a perpetually sweet smile, and her breasts rose and fell a remarkable distance as she breathed.
Suddenly she turned to me and, in a low, throaty voice said, "Would you happen to have anything for a headache? I'm terribly embarrassed to ask you ... but that experience has given me a dreadful headache."
Marie turned and, winking quickly at me, said, "Will aspirin do? We just bought some back in Santa Ana. Give me a couple of those ... aspirin, Jerry."
Jerry fumbled in his pocket, came up with the tin of pills ("passion pills") the bartender had sold him; he looked doubtful as he handed them to Marie.
"Here you are," she handed the girl two tablets. "I hope you can swallow them dry."
"Oh, yes. Thank you so much, you're very kind. My father will be most grateful," and then, throwing her head back, she downed the pills.
Ten, maybe fifteen minutes later, the girl began to talk, and I could tell by her eyes that she was excited ... and she became more and more so by the minute. Then suddenly she made her actions fit her words!
"My fiance's name is Armando Rodriquez. He is usually a nice enough boy. But today ... for some reason ... he kept getting ideas. You know ... he kept touching my leg ... like this. And then he insisted upon putting his hand on my ... breasts ... like this. I fought him off ... but Armando is very fuerte ... strong. He pulled up my dress ... like this."
I gasped aloud as she raised her bottom and drew her smock up around her waist. She was ... pantyless!
"Lovely, lovely!" Marie exclaimed. And Jerry, straining his neck to see, slowed down and pulled over, parking beside a grotesque yucca tree.
All three of us stared at her then-but she didn't seem to mind at all. She had lifted her legs, resting her sandals on the back of the front seat; and had slumped quite low. But those legs! That superbly rounded bottom! Her thighs were full, with a shape and contour that suggested latent strength and clutching power, and her calves were sweetly rounded with terribly small ankles. I caught a faintly wafting scent of musk and, looking up at her lovely face, watching her mouth twitch and her eyes roll, my temples began to pound and my throat went dry.
"And then," she went on, her voice cracking, "my fiance insisted upon touching me ... here," she laid a pale delicate hand against her sparse undergrowth. "And ... with his nasty old finger ... he ... Oh! That does feel good!"
We watched, utterly amazed! The girl arched to meet her strokings-and soon her hand was a veritable buzz-saw of frenzied movement!
"Get back there, Jerry!" Marie cried. "That girl needs you badly! Don't let her down."
And no sooner were her words out than Jerry was up and over the seat; and in an incredibly short time he had provided that inflamed Senorita with something more substantial than mere hand-play. She ululated shrilly when his first selfish lunge carried him all the way there-and her soft brown eyes bugged out in mingled pain and disbelief. The car rocked and lurched as Jerry's movements quickened-and soon the girl's shrill cries turned to the low grunts and incoherent mouthings of anguished climax. Jerry joined her, panting and humping like an impassioned young bull.
Sighing, Jerry began to draw away from her-but no! Clasping him tightly with those lovely thighs, she imprisoned him and commenced undulating and twisting in a very frenzy of carnal rapture! Moments later she began the whimpering cries of another impending culmination-and when it hit, she loosed a volley of filthy words in Spanish that would have burned the ears of Satan himself.
Those words seemed to trigger off some sort of feral reaction in Marie; over the back seat she came and, pulling the girl's smock up higher, she began lolling her nipples with her tongue (and what big, dark, round nipples they were!). The girl moaned softly and reached with one tentative, exploring hand up under Marie's partly hiked-up skirt.
"Damn! Damn!" Marie hissed between clenched teeth as the girl's fingers found their mark. "Here, Susan," Marie looked over at me, lifting the girl's other breast like an offering. "Get with us! We got her this way. It's up to us to supply her demands."
And so I did; running my tongue around her erect nipple, I tasted her musky perspiration and felt her heart beating wildly beneath!
The girl was insatiate! Demanding! Imperious! Downright greedy! Everything we did (and we did much!) seemed to only goad her on to further action, more outlandish demands! Jerry fell to one side, his eyes dull with fatigue, and Marie, ever dauntless, took his place-kissing the girl in that "non-conformist" fashion. And the girl, driven nearly insane by her treatment, pulled me over herself-making it clear she wanted to become a bit of a "non-conformist" herself. And so I let her-and at first contact that perfect cupid's mouth shot its lascivious arrows of lust into my pulsating machinery. I looked down at her, saw that her eyes were open but unseeing-and saw my own reflection in those lust-crazed orbs. My denouement wasn't long in arriving, and I looked down, eyes batting, and watched the Senorita absorb my event greedily.
There was simply no satisfying her! She used us up, all three of us, like a dry sponge sops up milk! And still she kept on! We began to worry. How long could she keep it up without bursting her heart?
"One pill would've been more than enough," Jerry voiced our combined feelings as we watched.
But finally, with a long, tremulous sigh, she turned up her toes and stopped; her head fell over to one side and she fell peacefully asleep.
"Wow!" Jerry exclaimed. "What'er we gonna do with her now?"
"Don't be silly," I said. "We'll take her on in to Hermosillo with us."
"And then?" Marie asked.
"Well ... we'll just have to wait and see," I replied. "In the meantime ... pull her smock down and make her comfortable. We should be in Hermosillo within an hour."
CHAPTER THREE
The girl stirred, yawned, stretched, and sat up quickly, just as we pulled into the outskirts of Hermosillo. She looked at us for a moment, confused. And then her face relaxed in a smile, and she sighed and stretched again-languorously.
"Oh, I feel wonderful!" she said, her voice sleepy and husky. "I want to thank all of you for ... being so nice to me." She frowned then, very impishly, and added, "I can't understand why I became so ... so passionate all of a sudden ... but ... oh, well!" her frown dissolved and an absolutely rapturous smile took its place, "it was all so very, very wonderful! I've never experienced such strong satisfaction. Leo ... our servant ... tries nobly ... and then there's ... Rudolph ... my Great Dane ... but never like that!"
"Then you're ... really pleased about everything?" Marie asked her; glancing quickly at me she raised her eyebrows in a look of confusion.
"Oh, yes! I feel wonderful! It's been a long time since I've felt so ... so completely satisfied."
"You mean you ... do things like that often?" I asked her.
"Not often enough," she shook her head, smiling sweetly. "You see ... they say that I have a ... weakness." She sighed again and stretched again and then threw her head back and laughed. "But I don't feel weak, not at all!" And then she brought her hands to her breasts and pressed them, sighing deeply.
It was no wonder she'd carried-on so passionately. We had a young, lovely, Spanish nymphomaniac on our hands ... and we'd given her "passion-pills". I looked at Marie. Marie looked at me. We both looked at Jerry-who, with his mouth hanging open, was staring at the girl in the rear-view mirror. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing-the situation was just too precious!
"But if you're ... that way," Marie paused, looking confused, "why did you refuse your boy friend? Why did you get out of his car way back there in the desert?"
"Because I am engaged to marry, Armando. And he has no knowledge of my weakness. My father has raised me since my mother died-many years ago. He knows of my weakness ... but he has been very patient and kind. My father has always wanted our families ... Armando's and mine ... to merge. He would be heartbroken if ... for any reason ... Armando broke our engagement."
Jerry cleared his throat, looked at Juanita in the mirror and said, "But what kind of a guy is this Armando if he'll kick you out of his car in some no-man's-land?"
"He's nice enough," Juanita shrugged. "But he's very proud. I have refused him so often that he is beginning to doubt himself."
"Hmm," Marie hummed, "maybe you should stop refusing."
"Maybe, but I'm afraid he'll think me wanton ... or perhaps be dissatisfied."
"He might think you're wanton, all right," Marie nodded, wetting her lips. "But believe me, Juanita, he won't be dissatisfied."
"Thank you," the girl smiled, almost meekly. "But I want you to come to our hacienda. You must meet my father and stay for the night as my honored guests."
"Well ... I'm not sure we can, Juanita ... thanks but...."
"Oh, but you must! After ... what has happened between us ... it would be cruel for us to part so quickly. It would be cruel and undignified." Tears sprang into her eyes and she looked at all of us pleadingly.
"I think she's right," I said. "What do you think, Jerry?"
Jerry nodded. "Sounds like a good deal. I'd like to ... you know ... try a little more of that."
"Fat chance with her father there," Marie muttered.
"But my father will be leaving tonight. He flies to Guaymas every week-end for the fishing."
"Okay, okay," Marie laughed. "I'm outvoted three to one. So go ahead, Juanita. Direct our handsome young chauffeur to the Alverez hacienda."
Some twenty minutes later we pulled in a long, winding driveway that ended in a five car garage beneath a rambling mansion. Juanita led us to the door, walking as lithely as a cat; she pulled a chain beside the massive, carved door and chimes sounded within. A moment later the door swung open and a dark-skinned servant, dressed in immaculate white, scrutinized us. He was quite good-looking.
"Good afternoon, Leo," Juanita addressed him. "We're having guests for dinner ... and for the night. Would you please prepare a room for the ladies and another for the gentleman ... adjacent to mine. And tell father we'll be waiting for him in the study."
She led us, chattering blithely, through several lavishly decorated rooms into a large, book-lined study.
"Sit down," she waved towards a divan. "I'll pour us some of father's brandy. It's very reviving."
We sat, sipping the brandy she gave us, suffering the embarrassing silence that waiting to meet an evidently wealthy and influential stranger often engenders. Everyone fidgeted, smiled, looked around, cleared their throats, smiled some more and looked down at their brandy glasses, swishing the amber fluid nervously. And then a paneled door opened and a greying, fair-skinned burly man entered; smiling warmly at his daughter and glancing inquisitively at us, he said, "Ah, Juanita! And how did you enjoy your ride with Armando?"
"Not so well, father. But I've brought guests. Americans. I want you to meet them. Oh!" she grinned and shrugged. "I guess you'd better introduce yourselves."
We did. Mr. Alverez very graciously assumed a posture of attention and bowed to Marie and myself. And then he shook Jerry's hand firmly, while telling us, in a low voice with scarcely a trace of accent, that he was always pleased to meet his daughter's friends. But no sooner had introductions been made than he turned to Juanita, his features darkening in a worried frown, and said, "But what happened, Juanita? Did you have car trouble?"
"No, father," she reddened. "Hand trouble. Armando was in one of his ... amorous moods. I argued with him ... got out of the car ... and these good people picked me up."
"Oh, I see," he nodded. "But you say you ... got out of his car ... right away?"
"Yes, father. Right away," she nodded.
"Good," he said, loosing a sigh and smiling suddenly. "You did well." And then, turning to us with a look of pride, he said, "It's good to have such a daughter ... a very sensible girl." And then, to Juanita: "But I hope you weren't too hard on the boy. After all ... you're going to be married soon and...."
"No, father" Juanita interjected. "I'm sure Armando will be back."
Mr. Alverez nodded. "Well" he began looking quickly at the three of us. "It's been a pleasure meeting you but I'm afraid I must leave you now. Are you planning to stay the night?"
'Well...." Jerry began uncertainly.
"Yes father," Juanita put in. "They're staying the night."
"I'm glad," he nodded, surveying us again in a sweeping glance. "I worry about you when I'm gone, Juanita."
And then Marie chuckled ironically (I could have strangled her) and said, "Don't worry about your daughter, Mr. Alverez. We'll take good care of her. She'll be in good hands tonight."
Our rooms were sumptuous! And although the furnishings were period Spanish, a decor that I find rather depressing, the carpeting was so vividly contemporary ( a rich wine red!) and the draperies and wall-accessories so tastefully chic that the over-all effect was most pleasing. We showered, put on our best dresses, and waited to be called to dinner.
And what a dinner! Langosta (lobster), drawn and floating in butter. And half a dozen side dishes (the names of which I will not bore you with). But all deliciously prepared! And wine before, wine with, and wine (Bristol Cream) after! All ingested while chatting pleasantly and listening to some very soothing background music.
"Would you care to smoke some very unusual cigarettes now?" Juanita produced a large humidor, removed the lid and passed it around.
We all lit up, feeling replete and genial, and continued to sip our after-dinner wine.
"Say, isn't this pot?" Marie suddenly blurted, holding her cigarette up and staring at it curiously.
"Some call it that ... and other things," Juanita smiled sweetly. "But the common name for it is Marijuana. A harmless drug, really. And this blend is ... very special. It has aphrodisiac qualities."
"Aphro ... what?" Jerry asked.
She looked at him, rolled her eyes, and said, "It removes sexual inhibitions ... makes one...."
"Gives you the hots," Marie interrupted. "Like those ... ," she lowered her voice, "aspirins."
"Yes," I agreed, as a warm, flushing feeling surged through my lower extremities. "It does make one ... restless."
Juanita stood up then; swaying slightly she raised her wine glass and said, "I want to propose a toast ... to you ... to this afternoon ... to tonight."
Juanita stood up then; swaying slightly she raised her wine glass and said, "I want, to propose a toast ... to you ... to this afternoon ... to tonight."
We drank, all of us grinning foolishly, all of us a bit high on the wine and the...."unusual cigarettes".
"Now," Juanita announced, still standing. "Shall we all go to my bedroom? I think we'll be far more comfortable there."
Following her down the long hall, Marie poked Jerry and said, "D'you have those ... ah ... aspirin handy?"
"Sure, have a few," he said; pulling them from his pocket then held the tin out to her and she took several.
"Give me a couple," I said, and removing two tablets I immediately swallowed them.
Her room was vastly different than the rest of the house. Very feminine. Very modem. Very sensual! The draperies and bedspread were a delicate pink; the walls were off-white and the carpeting an exciting turquoise. And at the foot of her bed was the equipment that had no doubt helped perfect her amazing figure: chrome dumbbells and one of those vibrating belts that reduce the waist.
"Excuse me a moment," she said, picking up a phone. "I want to give Leo some instructions."
We heard her tell the servant that he might help himself to "those cigarettes" if he wished ... and that she wanted him to join her and "her guests" in thirty minutes for "some very special entertainment". And then ... she dialed another number ... and said, "Hello. That you, Armando? Yes. Yes, I made it home just fine. And I'm sorry about being so mean ... getting out that way. If you'll come over ... up to my bedroom ... I'll make it up to you." She smiled impishly as she put the phone back on the receiver.
"Now ... shall we have a bit of after-dinner exercise? I hope no one will mind if I ... slip out of the dress. I feel ... all flushed and hot."
"Hot's the word!" Marie exclaimed, beginning to disrobe.
I nodded; Jerry nodded; the festivities began. And before they were over I developed doubts about myself that were only resolved when I met a crazy Irishman named Ed O'dea.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Please, all of you. I'd like you to sit down on the bed and ... just watch me ... caress me with your eyes. I love to be watched. I want to ... try something."
"It's your show, dearie," Marie replied. We sat as she'd suggested, Jerry between us, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from crawling all over him.
As we watched her, Juanita crossed the room to a closet where, bending enticingly, she donned a pair of high spiked heels; then, opening a chest-of-drawers, she removed a pair of black gloves (the kind that come to the elbow) and put them on. Then she approached us, dropping into a large chair opposite us-sitting with her thighs parted wide (what a sight!) she began to caress her nipples lightly with her gloved fingers. She was so lovely! Those heels brought out the full delicious curves of her calves! The black gloves made her upper arms appear as white as milk! But watching her, I became, for some unfathomable reason, fascinated by her navel. Deep, dark, it was imperfect at its brink, as if punctured by some lusting satyr.
Then it became audible-the low, crooning sound she was making ... a vocal composite of wolf-cry and human passion! Distracted temporarily from her navel, I watched her face. Her eyes were opaque and half closed; her lips were parted, exposing just the tip of her wet red tongue; her brow was lined in intense concentration; her nostrils were quivering spasmodically; her cheeks were stretched tight as drum-skins and her lovely neck was corded in strain. And that face-the epitome of carnal-concentration-was framed by shimmering black tresses, giving her the appearance, all-in-all, of a sexual vampire who had glutted herself to satiety on human juices. We gazed raptly as her crooning sound became louder-it was evident, and had been for some time, that she was attempting, without so much as laying a glove on anything but those saucer-sized nipples, to achieve an orgasm.
Suddenly she began to whimper. And then her eyes and mouth opened wide, as if in astonishment, and her tongue began to lap in and out with lightening rapidity. And then she snorted, pig-like, and drew both legs high-her thighs nearly reaching her breasts, and her flanks tensed in convulsive strain.
"Oh-o-o-o! Lo-o-o-o-o-o-k at me-e-e-e!" she loosed a drawn-out cry of lusty triumph that must have lasted at least a full minute. In her throes, she extended her legs slowly, twisting them, turning her toes up, and then she drew them up again, frog like, and repeated the motion several times! It was a sight to drive a sane person mad-let alone three drug-crazed onlookers!
And when she finished, and dropped her feet loosely to the floor, she smiled sweetly at us and blew us each a kiss.
"Thank you ... that was the second time in my life that I've been able to accomplish that. The other time was rather embarrassing. I was with friends. In an art gallery. And a painting of a bullfighter ... with understanding and curious eyes ... excited me. I fell to the floor and ... writhing there ... was relieved to hear someone say that I was having some sort of fit. That was when they examined me ... and found that I had a weakness."
We were startled then by a brief rap at the door-and somewhat more than startled when Juanita, without so much as closing her thighs, called out:
"Come in, Leo."
What could we do? We were all three sitting there on the bed, facing Juanita, and Jerry's "condition" was obvious to say the least. Splendid "condition"!
So ... in walked Leo. But what a vastly different Leo than the one who, immaculately clad in white, had opened the door for us and served us at the dinner table! A cigarette dangling from the comer of his mouth, a sensual smile on his face, he had on nothing but shorts!-and what a marvelous tent he had built there! He glanced at us quickly, then turned to Juanita and said, "Your fiance is waiting downstairs. I took the liberty of offering him some ... cigarettes. He has smoked two ... and seems highly perturbed. As a matter-of-fact, Miss ... I believe the young man is ... fondling himself."
"Put on your robe, Leo, and go fetch him. And then you may join us too, Leo. If you'd like."
Leo shot us a look, his eyes, it seemed to me, lingering rather yearningly on Jerry's...."condition", and then he nodded curtly and left.
Juanita rose and approached us, a conspiratorial look on her face. "If you'll cooperate with me ... with Armando ... I'll be terribly obliged to you."
"How?" I asked, resisting a compulsion to reach out and touch her navel.
"I'm going to hide. If he saw me like this ... without first being made excited ... he might leave. He's very proud. And, Jerry," she reached and encircled his wrist with her delicate fingers, "will have to hide with me. Like many Spanish boys, Armando is hostile towards strange men."
"Okay with me," Jerry rose, his "condition" waving majestically. "But where'll we hide?"
"Over there," she indicated a door with a nod of her head and drew Jerry towards it, "in my closet."
"Swell!" he beamed; looking back at us he grinned and winked. Entering the closet they left the door open a crack-and I heard Jerry's muffled groan of pleasure and could only venture a guess as to what tangent of amour he had initiated.
And then in walked a short, powerfully built Mexican boy; his expression, when he saw Marie and myself sitting side-by-side on the bed, sans clothes, was ludicrous! His mouth fell open and he half turned away, but Leo, right behind him, nudged his shoulder and said, "It's perfectly all right, lad. These ladies are friends of Miss Juanita's; Miss Juanita told them to entertain you until her arrival."
"Oh!" he swallowed and stared at us. "But ... where is Juanita?"
"She's busy right now," Marie spoke up. "We've ... er ... just finished dinner and ... I believe she's down having her dessert."
"I see," he nodded, his expression making it quite evident that he did not see.
"Come over here," Marie crooked a finger at him. "D'you know you're a very handsome boy?"
"Gracias Senorita," he nodded politely and walked slowly towards us. "And for ... Americans ... you are ... unusually accommodating."
"Leo," I spoke up, "would you please take off that robe and your shorts and come over here?"
"Yes, Miss," he bowed slightly and began removing the robe. "I'd be delighted to ... as our young man said ... accommodate you."
Pulling Armando down to the bed beside her, Marie gently shoved him back and began kissing him; then, with one hand she reached down and-"zipp"-aired things. I heard Marie's low groan of disappointment. He was ... adequate ... but certainly not what his imposing physique would lead one to believe.
And then-Leo was standing before me-ready, it was obvious, to "accommodate" me. And he was ... more than adequate! I reached out, tentatively, and touched him with my fingertips. He moved towards me, his adequacy within inches of my face. I bent slightly-and kissed. He sucked in his breath. Then I turned that tight-lipped American kiss into realms of other geography: the south of France! I looked up at him-he was smoking one of those cigarettes; he had an ironic, almost insolent, expression on his face-as if to say, "Look what this American bitch is doing." Feeling him grow suddenly larger, I pulled away-he grabbed things then, looking wildly about as he began to culminate, spying Marie's upturned bottom beside me, he dropped, guided, and lunged-and Marie squealed like a stuck pig, taking, in her pain and surprise, everything the shortchanged Armando had!
And then Juanita came out of the closet with Jerry and I had to stifle a laugh-Jerry was grinning from ear-to-ear and his face looked as if he had been drinking milk from a saucer. Armando didn't see Juanita. He was still on his back, eyes closed, enjoying Marie's attentions. Juanita walked up to the bed, winked at me, and said, in a loud angry voice, "So! Ah, ha! Even before we are married I catch you with another woman!" Armando sat up, blinked stupidly, and said, "But, Juanita! Why are you without clothes?" And then Marie, going along with the farce, sat up, looked horrified, and said, "You mean you're engaged to Juanita?"
"Yes ... I ... I am," Armando nodded, still in a state of utter bewilderment.
"Boy 'o boy!" Marie exclaimed, shaking her head in disgust and looking daggers at Armando. "You sure made a sucker out of me!"
Juanita fairly dove on Armando then! And the boy, his bewilderment erased by a long desired opportunity, pulled her to him with a guttural cry. Jerry approached then and, looking down at her wildly undulating roundness, he took things in hand and began to kneel.
"No, Jerry," I hissed. "I wouldn't if I were you. She says he's awful jealous. No use getting him riled-up and ruining things."
"But he can't see if I ... ," Marie's action stopped her talk as she reached with a probing forefinger.
"Oh, yes, yes!" Juanita acknowledged her move. "Move it around, Marie!"
"Come over here, lad," Leo, who had ceased his sport with Marie when Juanita came out of the closet, spoke up. He was sitting in a chair, leaning forward, a drawn, anxious expression on his face.
"But what do you...?"
"Never mind!" Leo snapped aggressively. "Just come over here! And hurry!"
Jerry approached him, warily-like a kid approaches a fire-cracker that has failed to go off.
"That's right, that's right," Leo said coaxingly, beckoning a finger slowly.
Jerry moved closer, a tense, expectant look on his face, his eyes blinking rapidly.
"Gotcha!" Leo cried, as he reached out like lightning and pulled Jerry towards him; moments later, having learned why Leo wanted him, Jerry relaxed-and Leo became, as it were ... speechless.
Those "aspirin" had begun to work! Marie and I, left to ourselves temporarily, began caressing ourselves; then, looking at one another, we seemed to get the same thought at the same instant. We smiled. We rose. We came together standing. We embraced. We kissed. And as we kissed I was somewhat dumbfounded (and more than a little chagrined) to realize what was happening. I didn't want that. I didn't want to kiss another woman-let alone do what Marie would want me to do. Men-yes! Free love-yes! Even mixed couples-yes! But woman with woman until both became one in a kissing, scratching, sucking limbo of perverted lust ... no!
It must be those damned passion-pills, I told myself as, feeling her fingers dig into my flesh where female fingers were not meant to be, I sank to the floor in an ecstasy of forgetfulness and surrender. And soon I wouldn't have traded places with anyone else in that room ... or in the world! I was enveloped by thighs and arms and breasts and mouthings and soft, lingering caresses. I rose on crests of lust-waves, and fell, my head spinning, to subterranean depths. I caught wafting scents that weren't for women, and I gave generously of all that I had and knew and felt. I immersed myself in devout immolation, sacrificing every moral qualm to the Satanish prince of demoniac lust! All was forgotten-the room, the others, where we were, even what we were doing! I became (we became) united in some sort of perfect rapport of the flesh-needing nothing, wanting nothing except to embalm one another with the sweet flowing juices of our unseverable togetherness. I swear-I can't remember whether or not we culminated; no, I don't believe we did. There were no greedy takings, no selfish ignoring-all was give, give, give, give, give! All was softness and warmth and mellifluous wetness. All was consideration and endearment and compromise and munificent empathy. How long it lasted, how long we lay there panting and entwined and flesh-locked, I have no way of knowing. Two hours, three hours, four hours-more?? Time ceased to exist for us. Everything, simply everything faded into that hazy pink void where all that mattered was us and the glowing wonderful thing we had ignited, without care for consequence, without thought.
We cooled slowly-like beach-sand after a long hot day-and the cooling was as pleasant (in its own way) as the lambent flame that had engulfed us. We stroked and caressed and whispered and teased and toyed, until-suddenly becoming aware of ourselves and of our whereabouts and predicament, we sat up and looked around. We were alone. All about us were the signs of carnage: besmirched bed-sheets, overturned chairs, the ever lingering acrid stench of marijuana. But we were alone.
"Let's crawl in that bed," I said, my voice hollow and weak.
"You're on," Marie rose and gave me her hand.
"I guess we've both been," I replied, looking away from her in the half-dark stillness. And as we crawled between the sheets, Marie snuggling against me with a replete sigh, the words of a poem ran through my head:
Made drowsy by my lambent warmth My woman curls to me.
A different kind of love is ours, For I'm a she you see.
And though a man can stir me too By passion I decree, A young girl's sighs, a woman's thighs, Are bread and wine to me.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jerry filled us in on things at breakfast the next morning:
"The two of you seemed to be in some kind of trance. We all tried to get you to ... you know ... join in with the rest of us. But you wouldn't. In fact ... you ignored the rest of us completely. And what a show you put on! The weird things you two did! Wow! And when we finally quit-you were still going ... all wrapped up in each other like a couple of spiders. It was kinda ... creepy."
I laughed; Marie laughed-both of us trying to depreciate the situation. But our laughter (mine at least) rang hollow.
Juanita, I noticed, was very quiet and somber.
"What's wrong with Juanita?" I asked Jerry in a low voice.
"That kid ... Armando, got mad as hell at her ... after he made out with her. Said he wouldn't marry any slut who would parade her unclothed body in front of strange men. He said he was going to tell her old man all about it and...."
"... And my father will be heart-broken!" Juanita cut in, a stifled sob breaking from her lovely lips.
"He enjoyed himself," Marie put in. "What kind of a heel is he? In the States they'd call him a damned fink!"
"My father will be home soon," Juanita said. "And Armando will tell him everything without delay. I know he will. Armando never ... how do you say it ... bluffs?"
"He's a short-stemmed rat!" Marie exclaimed. "I know," Juanita nodded glumly. "I have never loved him. I was only obeying my father's wishes when I became engaged to him."
"Why don't you come along with us to Mazatlan?" Jerry suggested.
"Don't even suggest such a foolish thing, Jerry," I gave him a dark look. "Mr. Alvarez would have every policeman in Mexico looking for us."
"No he wouldn't," Juanita said, her face brightening. "My father is in politics; he would be afraid of a scandal. If I left him a letter ... telling him that I was going with you to Mazatlan ... and when I would be back ... he would not inform the authorities. Would you take me with you? Please. I can't face my father now ... but after a while ... as time passes ... he will forgive me. He will be glad to see me and all will be forgiven." I looked at Marie, she shrugged and turned away. Somehow-that made me mad.
"Yes, Juanita. If you really want to come along with us, you can."
"Oh, wonderful!" she leaped up, came around the table and kissed my check impulsively. Marie loosed a snort of disgust and shook her head slowly (as if my decision were sheer madness). And then it came to me: she was jealous.
It's nearly seven hundred kilometers from Hermosillo to Mazatlan-and the only thing in between (except for a few villages with their inevitable Cantina and Gasolina Estation) is the coastal city of Guaymas. We stopped in Guaymas and had lunch: ice cold cervesa tecate and enchiladas topped off with Kahlua and coffee. Then we were on our way, headed for the "fun-city" of Mazatlan. And it was eight in the evening before we pulled in: hot, thirsty, dusty and tired.
We checked in at a motel-The Playa De Mazatlan-and the manager looked at us in surprise when Jerry asked for one room with two double beds. But he looked at Juanita as though he'd seen her before, staring at her quite openly.
"Excuse me, Senorita," he addressed her finally. "But aren't you the daughter of Senor Alvarez?" She shook her head, reddened, and said, "No, I'm ... I'm...."
"She's my wife," Jerry spoke up, putting his arm around Juanita's shoulders. "Senora Kell."
"Yes, of course," the man nodded. "If I offended you I am truly sorry. But a Mr. Alvarez stays with us when he comes to fish. And he is forever showing everyone a picture of his daughter ... very lovely ... she looks very much like the ... Senora."
"D'you think he swallowed that Senora Kell story?" Jerry asked, as we locked the door of our room and began to unpack our bags. Juanita had headed for the bathroom.
"I doubt it," Marie shrugged. "But these latins are usually pretty discreet. The worst he could do would be to call Mr. Alverez and ask the old boy if his daughter is missing."
"Yes," I nodded. "And then papa flies down here and has us all thrown in jail for contributing to the . .
"No," Marie interrupted. "There's no law down here concerning minors. But it was your idea to bring her along, Susan. Why don't you go ask her what she thinks about it ... she's in the shower."
I knocked on the bathroom door.
"Come in," Juanita's voice sounded tense and unnatural. I walked in; clothes were scattered all over the floor and the room was swirling with steam from the shower.
"We were just wondering, Juanita ... that manager. What if he calls your father?"
"It will be all right, Susan. Don't worry. I'm sure he believed Jerry."
"Is anything wrong, Juanita? You sound strange," I slid the shower curtain aside to check on her. "Lordie!" I exploded.
She was on her back in the tub; her thighs were parted as far as she could part them and the water was pouring down against her ... was pinching her nipples gently and her eyes were rolling wildly. And as I watched her, unable to tear my eyes away from that tortured face, a surge of pity welled through me. Poor kid. She couldn't control it. She had to achieve climatic relief whenever her esurient chemistry demanded it. But she was so lovely-such a perfect little gem of a girl. It wasn't fair. Softened by a sudden maternal tenderness and pity I knelt and put my hand to her cheek. She grabbed it, with a sobbing moan, pulled it down there!
"The soap, Susan! Wash me! Please, Susan. Hurry!"
Picking up the soap, lathering her matted labyrinth, I began to "wash". The water was quite hot and soothing; she closed her eyes and relaxed with a happy sigh. In spite of myself (my feelings of pity and maternal tenderness) the warm, slippery feeling of her began to arouse me.
"Would you mind, Juanita, if I got in with you. I ... ah ... need a shower and ... maybe a little something else."
"Yes, get in. That'll be great fun," she said, her voice scarcely a whisper.
And "fun" it was! Sitting up, her thighs over mine, we proceeded to work one another into a lather. She toyed with my nipples ... while I "lathered" her; then we reversed the process. After a while we let the water wash away all the soap; then, rising, I offered her my clean self, and she, her eager little face turned up, began to work up a different sort of "lather".
"Having fun, kiddies?" Marie, as she said this, pulled the shower-curtain aside.
"Man oh man!" Jerry exclaimed, grinning broadly. "Mind if I get in the act?"
Juanita, not stopping her action, moaned in assent.
"Well ... three's a crowd ... so might as well make it a mob," Marie said, undressing hastily.
That tub wasn't overly large, so-imagine if you can, the four of us in it! We were close, and that's a genuine understatement! We formed, so to speak, a skin-quartet! Slipping, sliding, laughing, kissing, probing, pinching, exploring-we tried everything our rather jaded minds could invent. And poor Jerry! Sandwiched between three women (one with a "weakness" that made her stronger than any of us), he was utterly exhausted when we finally finished. And later, as we all crawled into our beds with tired yawns and sighs (Jerry and Juanita in one bed, Marie and myself in the other), I heard Juanita whisper something to Jerry, heard his tired "no"-and moments later heard the quick wet sounds that told me "no" had turned to "yes". I smiled, stretched wearily, and fell asleep. And the next thing I knew-sunshine was streaming through the windows and it was morning.
"Hey! Jerry! Stop snoring!" I threw my pillow at him.
Marie opened her eyes, smiled sleepily and said, "I'm starved."
"Me too," I replied. Jerry, my pillow over his face, snored on.
"Where's Juanita?" Marie asked, stretching.
"I don't know. Maybe in the shower." (I hoped she wasn't at it again.)
"I don't hear water running," Marie answered. "No. Well, maybe she got hungry. Are her clothes there beside the bed?"
Marie sat up and looked. "No, they're gone. You're right, she must've gone out for something to eat. That little gal burns up a lot of calories. Hey! Dreamer boy!" Marie shouted at Jerry. "Wake up and come over here! Marie feels the need of masculine attentions!"
Jerry stretched and moaned. "Forget it, Marie," he sighed. "Ole' Jerry's had it for awhile. I'm dry as a soda-cracker smooch. Where's my li'l gal?" he reached sleepily for his missing bed-partner.
"That's what we'd like to know," Marie replied. "Her clothes are gone. Maybe she's running back to papa ... I hope."
"We'd better get up and look for her," I spoke up. "If she's eating, she won't be hard to find. That restaurant next door seems to be the only one around here."
We got up-one by one; we showered-one by one; we dressed-one by one. Lazy. Sapped from love. We couldn't seem to hurry.
We went to the restaurant; the waiter said we were the first ones to come in.
"No Senorita has been in, eh?"
"No. No Senorita; you are my first customers." The waiter was a short, fat man. His eyes were small and red and his cheeks puffy. He looked as if his main diet were tequila and refried-beans. But he seemed friendly enough.
"A young lady was with us," I explained to him. "And this morning, when we woke up, she was gone."
He clicked his tongue and shook his head sadly. "Are you staying in the motel next door?" he made a motion with his pudgy thumb.
"Yes," I replied.
"Maybe then I had better call my boss. He owns this place and the motel. It's possible he can help you. While you're waiting, what would you like for breakfast?"
We were in the middle of Eggs Rancheras, when a tall, sandy-haired man walked up to our table. He appeared to be about thirty eight or forty and he had a roguish, devil-may-care look about him. He wasn't handsome-not in any recognized form of the word-but his rugged features advertised both a genial good-humor and a capacity for seriousness. He scrutinized us separately, with quick darts of his blue eyes, and then, ad dressing Jerry, said, "Pancho tells me you're worried about a missing friend-a young lady?"
"Yess ... a ... Senorita, Jerry acknowledged, smiling nervously.
"I see," the stranger nodded his greying temples. Then, looking at me, he said, "My name is Ed O'dea. I know Mazatlan and the area around it pretty well. If I can be of any help to you please let me know. You see ... I feel a bit responsible for my guests."
"Thanks, you're very kind," I said; he smiled, and as his eyes met mine I felt my cheeks grow hot. I told him our names in a halting voice.
He nodded. "The ... Senorita. Does she drink? There's a bar around the corner ... and several closer to town."
"She might've gone to one of them," Marie spoke up. "The ... young lady has a lot of energy ... maybe she decided she wanted something to drink ... or ... you know ... got restless during the night."
"Might I suggest that one of you," he glanced quickly at me, "come with me. We'll look around, ask some questions, see if perhaps we can't find the girl ... or at least get some sort of a lead."
"I'll go," I spoke up quickly. "You two might as well go back to the room ... maybe she'll turn up there." I looked at Marie, who was stabbing me with visual daggers, and added: "I'm sure you'll think of some way to entertain yourselves while I'm gone."
"Oh, certainly," Marie smiled wryly, "And good luck, Susan ... on both your ventures."
CHAPTER SIX
Ed O'dea hadn't exaggerated when he said he knew Mazatlan pretty well. But he had failed to add that Mazatlan knew him just as well! Every bartender, taxi-driver and sidewalk lothario in town greeted him with a smile and a friendly salutation. But no Juanita. We hit every bar in town, the bus-station, the train depot, the airport-but no Juanita. She seemed to have disappeared completely without leaving the slightest clue or trace as to her whereabouts. It was baffling. Frustrating. Frightening.
Ed was amusing and fun to be with, though. Not that he was the least bit flip about our search for Juanita, he wasn't. He was quite business-like and terribly thorough. But he had that rare sort of balanced humor that seems, somehow, to be an exception to the rule of not mixing business with pleasure.
He refused to be entirely grim about anything, and I felt relaxed and at ease, despite the gravity of our search. And I had the feeling (that subtle "intuitive hunch" that women sometimes get about certain men) that he was an extremely passionate man. Something in his laugh, the way he carried his weight slightly forward, walking on the balls of his feet, suggested sexual dominance and an implacable endurance. He looked sexy.
So when he turned to me after half a day's search and said, "Well, that does it. If she's in town the sidewalks must have swallowed her up," I laid out the amorous carpet for him myself.
"I'm hot and thirsty. Could we ... go to your place for a drink?"
He was driving his car, a slightly dilapidated Ford, and he shot me a quizzical sideways glance-one not entirely devoid of astonishment ( albeit controlled astonishment).
"Damn good idea," he nodded. "But I warn you ... you're the most woman I've seen in a long time ... and...."
"Just leave it at that," I interjected, nodding. "But I might add that ... I think I've been having similar thoughts about you."
"My place is up front. Your friends might see us go in. Will that matter?"
"Not in the least. My friends are probably unconscious of every thing except each other."
"Oh?" he nodded, flashing me a curious look. "Like that, eh?"
"And then some," I grinned. "Especially the girl. She's ... quite ardent ... a very remarkable person."
"So are you," he said.
"Not really," I replied. We'll see," he nodded.
Later, as we were about to enter "his place", I glanced towards our room; the blinds were drawn and all appeared quiet.
I was rather nonplussed to find his apartment furnished so tastefully. I had, I suppose, expected it to be casual and, like his personality, devil-may-care. But no, far from it! The place had evidently been done by someone who knew his (or her) decorating; the colors, the decor, the arrangement of really unique Mexican furniture reflected superb taste and a lively flair for elegance. I was impressed and I told him so.
"Thank you, Susan. Would it surprise you if I told you that I decorated it myself?"
"Yes, it would. Did you really?"
He nodded. "In the States ... before I ... ah ... left ... I was doing more than well as a decorator. Then ... I got sort of mixed-up and ... well, Mexico offered an escape."
"Mixed-up? What sort of ... mixed-up?"
"I'll tell you about it sometime," he nodded, kind of glumly, and then, brightening, he added: "But right now, let's you and I try to forget the past."
"Love that idea," I said, he approached me, cupped my chin in his hand, kissed me lightly on the lips, swore softly, pulled me into his arms, and then ... it all began.
He undressed me, taking his time, letting his eyes take delicious little detours, and his hands, as he slipped down my panties, cupped my bottom and pulled me towards him. He nuzzled me, almost playfully. I reached down and, with trembling fingers, began to unbutton him.
"It's been a long time, Susan," he whispered, as I took things in hand. "Damn! I'm glad you came along!" his voice tightened to a raspy hiss.
"Me too," I said, and kneeled.
"Wait ... would you ... do me a favor first. I've got a bit of a ... well ... fetish about shoes ... and boots. Harmless enough, really ... but ... well...."
"I'd be glad to do anything you want, Ed Like you ... I'm glad you came along. Right now I really feel I need a man."
Moments later he handed me a pair of high-heeled boots; they were lined with soft fur and, as I pulled them on, I found that they fit my ankles and calves quite snugly. The sight of them on me seemed to excite him a great deal. He began to breathe heavily, and his pride, already quite "proud", became even prouder!
"Come here now!" he whispered hoarsely-but I had never heard a mere whisper with such dominance! I obeyed, willingly. And then I received another surprise. He had picked up a large bandana type handkerchief and was holding it out.
"What's that for?" I said, reaching for his pride again.
"For you! I want to ... gag you with it."
"Really?" I said, somewhat uncomfortably.
"Really!" he nodded, "like this," he quickly threw the bandana around my head and pulled it tightly over my mouth. Accomplishing this, he stood back and looked at me for a moment or two; then, with a guttural moan, he was at me!
He was rough-but just rough enough. He was artful-but his technique was audacious enough and virile enough to make me respond as I had never responded (to a man) before.
And my previous estimates (my "intuitive hunches") regarding his passion and endurance had been totally correct! I visited France, Italy and Greece in that rutting hour and a half; and I found, to my vast astonishment, that the back country of Greece was as pleasurable a visit as any of the more "normally" visited geographical locations. In fact I kept him long there, uttering little cries of delight at the strange sensations that obscure neck-of-the-woods provided. And there was blissful satisfaction in knowing that such an unexplored territory could be penetrated so deeply without danger of running out of gas. I felt, in a word, fulfilled.
I was a little doubtful though when, withdrawing from that humid country, he made it obvious that he wanted to sort of "clean things off" by immersing them in my hair. I relented, nevertheless, and when I saw how intensely excited that "clean up" made him, I wasn't sorry. He groaned and swore softly-and I could tell from his quick movements that I was going to have to shampoo my hair. But, not to sound poetic, I didn't care.
And so it was that I "met" Ed O'dea. And I learned that he had "weaknesses", too-but, it seemed to me, they were the "weaknesses" that are inspired by excessive strength.
I was sore and tired (pleasantly sore and tired) in unusual places when Ed and I finally gave up and went up front to his restaurant for something to eat. But when we walked in, arm-in-arm, Marie jumped up from a table and said, "So, you decided to come up for air, eh? Look at this," she walked up to me and handed me a note.
WE HAVE THE ALVAREZ KID. DO NOTHING UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM US. WE WILL NOT HARM THE GIRL IF YOU FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS. DO NOT NOTIFY HER FATHER-OR THE POLICE.
R S
"Oh, no!" I exclaimed, handing the note to Ed. He looked at it hard, his eyes widening in what appeared to be recognition and chagrin.
"What's wrong, Ed?" I asked him.
"This note. I'm almost certain I know who's responsible for it. And if I'm right ... ," he shook his head slowly, "your young friend is in for a bad time of it."
"But how can you tell who it's from?" Marie put in. "I mean ... d'you know this RS or something?"
"Yes, I think so. Raymond Salazar. He's a bum. A sadistic, unscrupulous character with an inflated ego and a deflated brain. He runs around with another punk who's just as bad. Manuel Ortega. It's got to be them," he nodded. "No one else would be vain enough or stupid enough to use their real initials on a note like this."
"D'you know where he lives, or hangs out?" Jerry, looking sleepy-eyed and exhausted (Marie, no doubt), spoke up. "If you do, let's get 'em."
"No, it's not going to be that simple," Ed shook his head and looked worriedly at me. "You see ... these guys are real crackpots. They've both served time for sex-offenses. And either of them is more than capable of murder. My advice is that you do what this note says ... wait 'til they tell you what they want. My guess is ... well ... I think they want to play around for awhile with the girl; then ... they'll want money."
"What d'you mean play around?" Jerry asked, his face flushing angrily.
Ed didn't answer him. Instead he asked, "Is she your girl or something?"
And then I told him all about Juanita: how we'd met her on the hi-way; how we'd given her Jerry's "sexpills" as a joke (a joke that backfired); how we'd stayed the night at her hacienda; how her fiance had made the scene with us and then gotten jealous and mad; how he'd said he was going to tell her father; and then how she'd begged to come to Mazatlan with us-"so that time would heal her father's injured pride and shock." And then Marie filled him in about Juanita's "weakness".
Ed O'dea nodded, wide-eyed, and then he loosed a long low whistle of incredulity. "Well ... it looks like those punks will have their hands full."
"So then all you suggest we do is wait?" Jerry asked him.
"Yes, what else can you do? If you do inform the police they'll probably keep their word and harm the girl ... or perhaps even worse. And if you were to call her father, no doubt he'd insist on calling the police in ... so your only logical recourse is to wait."
"I hate to sound trite and unworried," I said, looking at Ed, "but I'm absolutely famished."
"So am I," he grinned at me. "Sit down, all of you. I'll get Pancho to fix us something. In the meantime, how about some ice-cold beer?"
"Wonderful," I smiled and winked at him. "I need something cooling."
He brought four bottles of Carta Blanca, opened them, poured them in glasses and then went back to the kitchen. And no sooner had he passed from our view than Marie touched Jerry's shirt-pocket and said, "Gimme."
"Oh, Marie, I'm too pooped," Jerry shook his head and frowned.
"C'mon," she tapped his pocket insistently, "gimme four of those li'l ole pills. You won't be pooped when they get to you."
He sighed heavily and handed her the tin.
"None for me, Marie," I told her.
"Nonsense," she smirked. "We're down here to have fun, let's have some," and with that she plunked a pill into my glass of beer, and then dropped (was it two?) in Jerry's. She dropped two in Ed's glass, and then swallowed one herself. "One's enough for Marie," she commented, shrugging.
"Yes, Marie seems to have caught a bad dose of Juanita's weakness," I added sarcastically.
"Not really," she said, washing down the tablet with a drink of beer. "Didn't you know, Susan ... haven't I told you before that I've been diagnosed as a ... borderline nympho."
I ignored her; one learned to; Marie had a vivid imagination and was addicted to telling vicious little lies about herself. She was fond of shocking others; it lent depth to what she recognized as a slightly shallow personality. She was shrewd, though and, when the chips were down, she'd stand by you without complaint.
But I was, I confess, somewhat worried about the amorous episode Marie and I had staged at the Alvarez hacienda. I liked to play; I intended to indulge myself in almost every kind of "fun" experience. But our "play" that night had gotten sadly out of hand. I was a man's woman and content to remain so; that's why Ed O'dea's attentions (though they too were "unusual") were so terribly welcome.
Ed returned to the table a few minutes later smiling broadly. "We're in luck. Pancho tells me we've just received our weekly order of Guaymas shrimp. Wait'll you try 'em. They're without a doubt the best in the world."
"Great!" Marie said, picking up her glass of beer. "Well, drink up everybody. Here's to love ... may it prevail."
Ed O'dea downed his glassful in three gulps.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pancho brought us a big steaming platter of enormous, golden-brown shrimp. We helped ourselves, eating with our fingers, and washing it down with glass after glass of cold Carta Blanca beer.
Ed, as time passed, began to squirm around in his chair; Jerry began talking rather heatedly and Marie laughed at everything he said. And I, when those "aspirin" hit me, was seized with an overpowering impulse to reach beneath the table and fondle our host.
"Damn, it's getting warm in here!" Marie exploded, and then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do, she removed her blouse (and she was, naturally, brassiereless).
Ed straightened in his chair and looked at her in astonishment. But he recovered quickly and, looking at me, said, "Aren't you warm too, Susan?"
"No, I'm just plain hot," I answered him. And then I unbuttoned by blouse and slipped out of it.
Ed stared at my breasts, wetting his lips hungrily; then, picking up a piece of shrimp, he rubbed the crusty meat over and around one of my nipples. Then he bent and, with a slow, caressing, lapping of his tongue, cleaned the shrimp thoroughly from my breast.
"Why don't you do things like that, Jerry?" Marie said indignantly. "C'mon, use your imagination. Think of something , ... nice."
Jerry, suddenly busy with his hands beneath the table, said, "You want something nice ... come over here, Marie."
But Marie never made it! Before she could even rise, Ed O'dea had dropped down and crawled under the table. We could see nothing (the tablecloth was large), but the sudden look of surprise and elation on Jerry's boyish face told the story eloquently enough. And when I heard Ed's moans of sheer carnal pleasure I knew exactly what he had meant when he'd said he had left the States because he was all "mixed-up".
But maybe it's those damned pills, he's not really that way, I told myself, feeling, even though I was panting myself, bitter resentment and a sense of disappointment and loss.
"Oh, well," I said, sighing and shrugging, "when in Rome ... ," and I went Ed one better by dabbing shrimp-sauce on Marie's nipples and then lolling it off.
"Oh, Susan baby ... that feels so good, so good," she emphasized her words by reaching beneath my dress and caressing me with feather-light strokes. She was, it was obvious, almost ecstatic to have me attending her again.
"Are you ... lesbian, Marie," I paused for a moment to ask her.
"Lordie no," she replied between tight lips. "I'm everything ... just like you."
"You mean we're...?"
"Just sex-pots, kid. No use using fancy psychological terms ... you and I have simply got hot-pants."
"And ... Ed ... d'you think he's...?"
"Who knows?" she cut me off. "Why don't you ask him?"
"I intend to," I replied. "Later."
"Let's get out of these skirts, Suzy, I'm wild to love you." Marie changed the subject.
Then we had an unexpected visitor. Pancho, his fat face wreathed in a wrinkled smile, came charging in! His little red eyes were glazed; he was naked as the day he was born; his belly proceeded him by a good foot and his pride hovered beneath it like a black sock full of rocks. He tried to say something-but, after swallowing half a dozen times, he gave up. Holding things in both hands he gestured frantically-evidently trying to show us what he wanted to do. Marie, always quick with semaphore, obliged him; backing against him she leaned over a chair and said, "Sit down here, Susan. I feel like killing two birds with one stone."
Pancho wasn't the gentle, patient type! With a grunting lunge he got things where he wanted them, and Marie, loosing a squeal of pain and pleasure, kissed me there like a frightened serpent seeking its moist dark lair. Lifting my thighs, I imprisoned her, and when I culminated, squeezing hard, her face turned red as a tomato and I had a momentary vision of some maniacal she-devil being strangled on the spewing juices of love. And Pancho, squealing and grunting like a rutting boar as he achieved his event, leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth. I was revulsed! His thick, greasy lips parted mine and he rammed his tongue into my mouth forcefully. I was revulsed-but I kissed him back, enjoying, somehow, the thought that I was perverting myself to the lowest possible ebb. It was nauseating but I loved it.
Ed emerged then from beneath the table and, scarcely glancing our way, pulled the greatly astonished (and embarrassed) Jerry to him and embraced him.
"Strip down, Kid," his terse command was devoid of all levity. "I think you need a good spanking."
"What?" Jerry's expression was half-frown, half-smile; he pushed himself to arm's length and looked at Ed closely.
"You heard me, Jerry," Ed's eyes glinted savagely. "Strip down! And be quick about it!"
Jerry looked at Marie and then at me; he shrugged and made a wry face. Then he undressed.
"That's a good boy," Ed nodded approvingly. "Now come to papa ... lay face down ... over papa's lap."
Ed had dropped into a straight-backed chair; he beckoned at Jerry as he called him. "C'mon now, boy. It'll do you good. Every kid needs a spanking now and then."
Jerry complied; red-faced, looking sheepishly at us, he clumsily appropriated himself across the still dressed Ed's lap.
Whack! Ed's big hand came down hard on Jerry's roseate roundness! I cringed. Jerry sucked in his breath and swore softly. Whack! Whack!
Whack! Ed's hand rose and fell, rhythmically delivering smarting blows to the writhing boy across his lap. He spanked him!-with zest and enthusiasm he turned Jerry's pink bottom into something approximating raw hamburger. I was sorry for Jerry; I was just as sorry for Ed. Then, glancing at Marie and Pancho, and-in a cigarette machine's mirror-at myself ... I was sorry for all of us.
That spanking, though, seemed to touch us all off-like a spark ignites fireworks! Jerry's humiliation, when he rose from Ed's lap, seemed to turn us all on! The five of us clashed, surrendering ourselves to the chaos of perversity's most distorted tangents! Five limb-clinging, lust-numbed animals coalesced in that Mazatlan restaurant; tables became props for devious rites; who was with who or what was happening meant nothing; sliding beyond the last outposts of human sanity we used and abused ourselves like flesh-starved carnivores. My mind flipped! Lights and flashings of color pervaded me. I joined Aphrodite's most select harem and indulged myself to utter repletion-only to fly off on another tangent with rough masculine hands poking and probing at my parts. Engulfed in a moist, hot, nymphette quagmire, I became lost, and I cried out my fear and my grief and my terrible, terrible loneliness and nostalgia, but my cries were stunted and muffled by wet kisses and the miasma of sopping flesh.
Nymphomaniac and satyr rang in my ears like a sliver of vibrating steel, and my blood slowed, flowing through my vascular abstracts like hot molten lava. I struck out and slapped and bit, and was slapped, stricken and bitten. I cursed and was cursed at. I mouthed new adjectives and conjured lithe tweakings of the spirit and abysmal atavisms of carnality and imperious lust. I pushed food (shrimp) into arcane orifices and it was removed by the snapping teeth and jaws of esurient idiots! My joints came unglued, my glands cemented them together again by their prolific and lewd libations! Whirl was king and queen and pansy and dyke and heterosexual and nympho and satyr, and sodom was court jester!
Lucid thoughts intervened: was I a person mad on pills and lust or a mad-woman temporarily sane? Was I a woman? Was I something female and something male? Was I anything? Was me really me or only some passing me-ness that had lost and found itself into fantasy? Those delicious tweakings in my flanks, and between my thighs-were they first felt by man or woman-and why, really? My breasts, hot, heavy, tingling with life and enjoyment as they are bitten and caressed and kissed and sucked ... and each bite and caress and kiss sets off a pulling, drawing sensation down there in my wet labyrinthine machinery and I awake to the sound of my vile encouragements and the overpowering stench of stale Carta Blanca assails my over-perceptive nostrils. I look around at the others; it's dusk; they are lying about in obscene and grotesque positions. I rise, stagger awkwardly, walk to the door, open it, walk out (stark naked), and stagger, resolutely, to our room. I will myself to shower-but I fall across the bed and find oblivion.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I awoke to find Ed in bed with me. It was morning. All was quiet so I knew it was early. I shook him gently; his eyes flew open instantly and he sighed, stretched and said, "Hi, Susy. Hope you don't mind, but ... I felt I wanted to be with you."
"Oh. Why? You seemed to prefer Jerry last night."
"Yes, and I can't understand what came over me," he frowned and looked perplexed. "I thought I was over that kind of thing. You might as well know, Susan, that that's why I came down here. To run from my past ... my crazy mixed-up past. But last night I ... well ... I couldn't seem to resist. I've never felt such a sheer physical need before."
And then I told him about the "passion-pills".
He seemed relieved-then he became quite angry.
"Those things can really goof a person up! They're made of all kinds of semi-poisonous chemicals, and even crushed insects."
"What were Marie and Jerry doing when you left them, Ed?"
"They were sound asleep; we all were until I heard you get up and saw you stagger out the door. I got up, came over here and found you draped across the bed; so ... I tucked you in and crawled in beside you."
"I'm glad," I said, snuggling close to him.
"I'm gladder," he smiled. And with that he began to run his hand over me, caressing me everywhere with light persuasive strokings. I sighed, parted my thighs and relaxed; soon he ducked under the cover and headed for southern exposures and I welcomed him there by arching sharply and placing both hands on his head. Seconds later, his kiss shooting delicious vibrations through my rested machinery, I threw off the covers.
"Turn around, darling, turn around! I want you, too!"
He spun, dervish-like, and I moaned with anxious joy as I assimilated as much of him as I could. And oh, he was good! My ears began ringing and the first faint etchings of climax began, like the soft beating of far away drums! And then louder, louder! Until ... I made it! And as I did, gyrating frantically, I must have inspired Ed, for-bang! bang! bang! I felt his pride grow even larger as it fired its bolts of requited love and pungent ambrosia; the libations of a virile man.
And then it was front and back, and me riding and being ridden; all to the chaotic tune of whispered endearments and considered caresses. When it was over, we lay panting in each other's arms, stroking tiredly, sighing and enjoying the after-math of togetherness' only real reward. And I knew the first warm and confusing flush of incipient love-and that scared me.
Marie and Jerry came in shortly after that; both of them looked as if they'd been run through the proverbial wringer.
"Hi, you guys," Marie greeted us listlessly. Jerry nodded, looking self-consciously at Ed, and then he headed for the bathroom, where we heard him being sick.
"It's those pills, Marie. Ed says they're poisonous. You'd better tell Jerry to get rid of them."
"They're all gone," Marie shrugged, dropping into a chair with a heavy sigh.
"Good. You certainly don't need them ... which reminds me. I feel we should do something about Juanita. I know you think we shouldn't, Ed. But I don't feel we should just sit around waiting either. Surely there must be something we can do."
"Well," Ed nodded soberly, "we could flash some money around. It's more than possible that someone in town knows where they're holed-up."
"Okay, let's clean up, have a good breakfast and then try it. No doubt you know just where this money-flashing business might pay off. Right?"
"Yes, a bar on the other side of town. Salazar and Ortega hang out there quite a bit. We'll go there first."
Never had a long hot shower followed by a brief cold one felt so good! And never had ham and eggs, toast and orange-juice been eaten with such zest and relish! Enjoying cigarettes afterwards, and the tall, cool Bloody Marys that Pancho had obligingly mixed us, everyone began to feel halfway normal again. Jerry was still a bit pale and shaky-but he seemed in good spirits and was all for "trying to rescue Juanita".
And so we set out. Piling into Ed's Ford, we drove perhaps three miles to a very poor and seedy looking section of town. Ed parked in front of a run-down looking Cantina and said, "This place is pretty notorious. You girls had better wait in the car. Jerry and I'll see if we can't find out something. We won't be long."
No sooner had the two of them entered the bar than an unkempt young boy approached the car and, in broken English, said, "I have pojuito books. You want to buy? Only for dos pesos each."
"Let me see one of them," Marie said. He handed her one. She was sitting beside me; I glanced at the book as she thumbed rapidly through it. I had see them before: the nasty little comic book things that are often passed around at parties.
Marie chuckled, and handed the boy two pesos. "Gracias, Senorita," he grinned insolently and walked off.
"If you don't mind my asking, Marie, why the dickens did you buy that? I mean ... those things are downright obscene."
"Oh, really! Look who's talking! You've been a little obscene lately yourself, Suzan. Or should I call you duchess?"
That hurt; the more so because she was right.
That has always been one of my short-comings-voicing opinions that I really have no right bringing up. Especially on moral matters. I sometimes think I'm some strange kind of combination: female lecher and puritan, with a dash of bourgeoisie standoffishness in between???
"I happen to get a kick out of these booklets-the blunt dialogue, the wild positions," she said.
"I know," I replied. "Just ignore me, Marie. I suppose I'm a little upset about Juanita ... and everything."
"That's okay, doll," she shrugged, eyeballing the picture-sequences avidly. And then, reaching with one hand beneath her skirt, she said, "I'll ignore you if you'll ignore me."
I was really rather astonished. Holding the book in one hand (looking at a particularly imaginative scene that involved a woman and a large dog) she had at herself with her other. Soon she was panting and snorting and the whole car actually vibrated, so energetic were her efforts! I looked around, hoping that no one was watching. Her head was jerking as if she were bobbing for apples and the acrid effluvia of aroused woman assailed my nostrils.
And then I saw that unkempt kid coming towards us again; he had a large envelope in his hands and was probably going to try to sell us some more booklets.
"Hold it, Marie," I said. "That kid's coming up to the car ... on your side."
"I ... c-can't. N-not now, Suzy!" she cried, and her hand began moving like a buzz-saw.
The window was open; the boy came up and, wearing that insolent grin, stuck his head in the window-presumably to make his sale's-pitch. Marie, just then, began to really snort and groan, as she arched sharply in ecstatic culmination.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" the boy's mouth flew open and a look of utter amazement twisted his homely features, making him appear comical. Then, taking a long look, licking his lips appraisingly, he turned and bolted!
"Damn that felt good!" Marie gasped; sitting up quickly she flashed me a guilty look and then straightened her dress-pressing the wrinkles out primly as if what had just happened was a case of long-forgotten, ancient-history.
"You're depraved, Marie," I shook my head slowly. "Couldn't you have waited?"
"Why?" she shrugged. "Maybe later I wouldn't have been in the mood."
I looked at her, took in a breath to say something (something derogatory), and then, seeing Ed and Jerry come out of the bar, I changed my mind.
"He did it, Susan!" Jerry said, as they climbed in the car. "Ed waved a fifty pesos note around and asked if anyone knew where those two guys had taken Juanita. And right away this skinny little punk comes up to us, eying the fifty like it was Fort Knox, and tells us where they are."
"He might have been lying, though, Jerry," Ed said, starting the car and driving off.
"No, I don't think so," Jerry shook his head and looked at me. "The guy said he hates this what's his name's guts, and I think he really meant it."
"We'll soon find out," Ed nodded. "He claims they're in the old mission, and that's about a thirty minute drive from here. But I want to impress on all of you the need for extreme caution. Raymond Salazar, for all his bluster, is one tough character. And his side-kick, Manuel Ortega, is just as bad. I've seen them beat up old men. And I've seen them pour gasoline on cats and light it just pass the time of day."
"I can think of better ways," Marie sallied.
Ed glanced over at her and nodded. "They've done plenty of that, too. Raymond is ... well ... from what I've heard ... he's unusually proud of his ... development. Prides himself on his ability to satisfy ... and to keep satisfying."
"Sounds interesting," Marie quipped. "Is he good looking too?"
"Yeah, I guess so. In a kind of degenerate way at least. And he speaks good English; so does Ortega."
Ed pulled off the road some twenty five minutes later and parked beside a grove of willow trees. Pointing at a shambles of a building that was partly hidden by the trees, he said, "That's it, the mission. It's been abandoned for over seventy-five years; full of lizards and mold ... it fairly stinks with age. Now everybody follow me ... and be as quiet as possible. If they're in there, Jerry and me'll go in after them. You girls grab sticks or something ... we don't know what to expect here."
I picked up a good sized willow limb; Marie, shrugging, and grinning like an imbecile, picked up a twig. We followed Ed, moving slowly, stepping lightly, until....
"Hold it," Ed whispered, putting a finger to his lips to signify silence. "Did you hear that?"
I was on the verge of saying "what" when a voice cried out-loud, clear and ... female.
"That's Juanita!" Jerry stepped forward, his face a blend of concern and anger.
Ed nodded, and made a motion with his head for us to follow him. As we approached a brown windowless wall the terrain became weedy; a small Gila monster darted between Marie and myself and Marie let out a high, reedy "Eeek!"
We stopped. Ed shook his head in disgust. Marie assumed a contrite expression and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Come on," Ed motioned.
We followed him around the jutting and broken-down facade of a bell-tower, and as we turned the corner we heard a male voice: low, cajoling, contemptuous:
"Come on, Kid. One more time. Show Raymond you can do it."
"But I'm so tired ... and this corset is robbing me of air." Juanita's voice was sweet to my ears; though she sounded tired and plaintive it was a relief to know she hadn't been seriously hurt. With Ed motioning us to move quietly we followed him to a gaping hole in the wall. And as we peeked inside I had to put my hand over my mouth to restrain a gasp.
Juanita was slumped in a rickety old chair. She was bound tightly in an old-fashioned, waist-cinching corset-one that left her breasts and other attributes exposed and vulnerable. She was also wearing black mesh hose and high (very high!) spiked-heels! And in her right hand, limply held, was a long red carved statue that was obviously supposed to represent the devil.
The man standing in front of her, observing her through heavy lids, was tall, effeminately handsome and ... very well built. He was fully dressed, wearing tight black pants, patent-leather boots and a white shirt with long blousy sleeves. He was aroused, his tight pants couldn't conceal all that!
Juanita was breathing heavily. "Please, Raymond, let me rest. Let me sleep for just a little while."
"No, one more time. Take that devil ... take my amigo Diablo and bring yourself to satisfaction. You don't know what a sight you make when you do that, kid. Come on now. Do as I say or ... ," he patted himself fondly, "I will be forced to put this devil to work on you."
"No, please, I'll try ... once more," she said weakly.
And then she began with the statue. Slowly, for she must have been tender, she eased it out of sight-and then, a bit faster, retrieved it. Three or four repeats of that maneuver and her expression of tired apathy changed; she picked up the pace and, because of the tight corset, began to gasp like a freshly landed fish."
"Why don't you stop him?" I whispered in Ed's ear. "When are you going to go in there?"
"Not yet," Ed answered, patting my arm. "I don't see Ortega anywhere ... let's wait a moment."
"Yes, by all means!" Marie hissed; I turned and shot her a scornful look. (Right then I could have murdered her!)
I glanced at Jerry. He was white-faced; his jaw grating savagely. (I couldn't tell if it was passion or anger-or both.)
Juanita soon got with it in earnest! Once her chemistry began boiling there was no stopping her; she began to snort and squeal and she twisted her lovely little face into the most grotesque grimaces imaginable! It was, I had to admit, quite a show! Indeed, so engrossed did I become in the spectacle she made, that I, like the others, failed to notice or hear the man who had crept up behind us. Juanita was loosing the carnal cries of completion and orgasmic ecstasy, and the man watching her was applauding gratefully, when we heard a gruff voice.
"She's good, eh? I hope you are enjoying yourselves," and we turned to face an ugly wizened little man, who had a gun in his hand that looked bigger than he did.
"We have guests out here, Raymond!" he shouted.
The handsome one, the one he had called Raymond, hurried over to the hole and looked out at us.
"Well!" he turned and looked at Juanita. "Look, Juanita. Your friends, the Americans! They have come to rescue their little hot-pants chili-pepper! Come in! Bring them in, Manuel! The entertainment is much better when it is viewed closely! And you, O'dea! That is good! I've heard you dislike us, O'dea. Yes. Well. Maybe me and Manuel can make you like us, eh?"
Standing well back from us, the little rat-faced one urged us ahead of him through a large open archway. Once inside I looked quickly around and saw that they had apparently prepared the place for an extended stay. There was a large stock of canned goods against one wall and three mattresses arranged next to one another in the middle of the room.
"You shouldn't have come," Juanita said, still panting heavily. "These men are beasts. Oh, I'm so sorry I got you into this terrible trouble. Please forgive me."
"We'll get you out of here, Juanita," Jerry spoke up defiantly. "Don't you worry."
The handsome one-Raymond-looked at his rat-faced friend and lifted his eyebrows in an ironic smirk.
"See, Manuel," he nodded, "how very brave the Americanos are." Then he looked at each of us ... individually ... and said, "The girl was right, amigos. You should not have come here. But now that you are here ... ," he lifted both hands loosely, shrugged, and let his hands drop, "perhaps it is just as well. In a day or two ... or three or four ... one of you will be released. And that one will call the girl's father ... Alvarez and ask for two hundred thousand pesos. You see ... that way Alvarez will think that it is you who have his mos' lovely ... and talented daughter. And kidnappers are dealt harshly with in Mexico."
CHAPTER NINE
They locked all of us in a damp, semi-dark room (Juanita too). Ed was mad at himself for having, as he said, "played it so stupid."
"I should've come out here alone, packing a gun. I don't know why I had to bring you girls along."
"Forget it, Ed," I told him. "We wanted to come along. Juanita is our responsibility."
"It's all my fault," Juanita said. "I shouldn't have left Hermosillo in the first place. I've caused nothing but trouble."
Jerry put his arm around her shoulders. "Don't blame yourself, Juanita." Then he looked at me and added: "It's our fault for bringing you."
"You mean my fault," I said. "I was the one who told her she could come with us."
Marie sighed disgustedly. "I wish you'd all quit worrying about who's to blame and start thinking of some way for us to get out of this mess. This room's not exactly my idea of a lovely Mexican vacation-land. All this dampness is raising hell with my permanent."
"Marie's right," Ed nodded. "We're here. They've got us. We'd better put our heads together and think of a way out."
No sooner had he said that than the door creaked open and the wizened shrimp, Manuel Ortega, walked in, gun in hand.
"You ladies, all three of you," he motioned towards the door with the gun. "Raymond wants you out there. He wants to ... talk to you."
"Why can't we go with them?" Jerry asked, moving towards him.
"Hold it, Kid!" he brandished the gun. "I said Raymond wants to see the ladies ... are you a lady?"
"Take it easy, Jerry," Ed laid a hand on his shoulder. Then he looked at Ortega and added: "But if you harm the ladies ... either of you ... you'll live just long enough to regret it."
"Speak when you're spoken to, you stupid gringo!" Ortega snarled.
He marched us ahead of him to an open courtyard; Raymond Salazar was there; sitting on a massive wooden bench he was drinking from a bottle of tequila. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made the heavy sighing sound that follows a long pull at strong liquor.
"Well, are you enjoying your visit with us ladies? No? Well, then ... here is some excellent medicine. Tequila. It warms the cockles of the soul. Here," he held the bottle out to Marie, "have a drink. I am civilized. I do not like to drink alone."
We were standing in a row in front of him; Marie didn't take the proffered bottle. None of us said anything.
"Drink!" he suddenly shouted, "or I'll pour it down your skinny American throats!"
Frightened, Marie snatched the bottle up quickly, and, lifting it to her lips, took a small swallow.
"Come on! Come on!" he shook his head and grinned wryly. "When I invite someone to drink with me, I expect them to drink, not gargle. Now drink, damn you!"
"Okay curly-locks, don't get your dandruff up," Marie replied; tipping the bottle high she took a long gurgling pull.
"Much better, eh!" he nodded; then he took the bottle and handed it to me.
"I don't like tequila," I made the vast mistake of saying.
"What? You're joking, of course. No! Then perhaps I can give you a taste for it. Take two drinks ... and make them large, Senorita."
I hesitated. Lifting the bottle to my nose I made a nasty face. Another mistake.
"Drink, you insolent slut!" he shouted.
So I drank; two large drinks; finishing, holding the bottle out to him, I closed my eyes and shuddered.
"Bravo, bravo!" he cried. "And now you, Miss Alvarez. Take a fine drink of your native land's good tequila."
Juanita drank. Then, finishing, she dropped the bottle to the tile floor where it broke with a crash and splattered the evil-smelling liquor over the astonished Salazar's polished shoes. He looked down, then, moving his head slowly, looked up at Juanita and said, "Did you do that purposely?"
"Of course not. It merely slipped," she replied.
He nodded, wet his lips and said, "No matter, then. We have more. Much more. Bring us more tequila, Manuel. Bring us several bottles."
Manuel brought an armful of bottles; opening one, he handed it to Raymond Salazar. Raymond took a brief nip, then handed the bottle to Marie.
"Drink," he said savagely. Marie drank; I drank; Juanita drank. Numberless times we passed the bottle back and forth, until, quite drunk himself, Raymond decided we'd had enough.
"And now," he paused, patting himself where his tight pants bulged, "the time has come for pleasure. You know ... ," he shrugged, "a man works a little ... plays a little. Now that I have made you drunk ... my work is over and it is time to play."
Marie nudged me and, speaking thickly, said, "Shall we scream, Suzy?"
"Go ahead," I told her.
"But I don't wanna, really. What I really wanna do is," she staggered against me; I held her; she patted my cheek affectionately and continued: "What I really wanna do is ... find out if this guy is as big as those tight pants make him out to be."
Manuel Ortega, who had taken only a couple of sips of tequila, suddenly spoke up:
."Hey, Raymond. I want to get in on this. I know, I know ... you'll make me look bad. But ... a man can't just stand by and watch."
"That's right, amigo," Raymond winked at his companion. "You hold the gun for a time ... and then I'll hold it for you. Okay?"
The little man nodded and his ugly face twisted into a hideous grin (the mere thought of him even touching me gave me gooseflesh!)
"You!" Raymond pointed at me. "You take their clothes off for them. And slowly. I want to watch you. And when they are fully undressed-they can remove your clothes."
I stood there, staring at him; I was at the stage of drunkenness where moving quickly was out of the question.
"Move, woman, or I'll move you with a bottle of tequila!" Raymond, his eyes glazed and shining, brandished an empty bottle threateningly.
And so I began to undress them. Marie first. And as I unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off of her she lifted her breasts invitingly, pointing them towards Raymond.
"C'mon, curly-locks. These are American made. Quality, pure quality. Take a bite'n see for yourself."
"Silence, slut! In a while you will be Mexican made and I will give you a Spanish lesson that you will never forget."
I finished undressing her-and the sight of her seemed to excite the ugly little Ortega a great deal. (But when he reached down and, with a cocky flourish, aired his pride, I heard Juanita snicker:
"Just like my inadequate fiance, Armando.")
And then I began undressing Juanita. And I confess, when I finally finished, and she was standing there next to me in all her naked glory, I was breathing harder than the undressing job had demanded.
"And now ... remove her clothes," Raymond nodded towards me. "I like you, bitch," he told me as they began. "You're the quiet type and ... they are usually the best."
Soon we were all nude and standing there before him; waves of gooseflesh rippled across my back as I saw the impossible bulge in his pants!
"Now, Manuel. You and I will undress. It's time we showed the ladies something that will open their mouths and make them pant. But watch them. Keep the gun out of their reach. That quiet one," he indicated me, "looks heartless and calculating."
I tried mightily to ignore them as they undressed. But, believe me, it would have been well nigh impossible to ignore Raymond Salazar! Can one ignore a fiery stallion or a prize-bull or a cataclysmic force of nature? Can one ignore a mountain? Can one ignore ... yes ... the very definition: a freak? No! One cannot! And neither then could I ignore the nude Salazar! For, mere man though he was, there was more...."manliness" ... down there than on any three normal men combined! I kept swallowing; my throat dried; my palms began to itch with an almost uncontrollable compulsion to touch.
"Oh! La, la! What a beauty!" Marie cried shrilly. "Look out," Juanita put a restraining hand on Marie's arm, "he's as dangerous as a bull."
"Olay! Olay!" Marie shook off her arm and advanced on that human tripod.
"No, no," he grinned at her, backing away. "Line up, all of you. Sit on the edge of that bench. I want to ... alternate."
"Okay," Marie stopped. "But please ... let me give it ... let me ... just one little kiss."
"Just one," he nodded. And when she bent to deliver it he reached over and smacked her bottom a terrific wallop! She straightened quickly, rubbing herself, tears of pain and humiliation brimming in her eyes. She staggered.
"Now get over there and sit down!" he shouted. "I'll pick my own favorite ... by results."
"Come on, Marie. Let's get it over with," I told her-but as I look back I realize that I was quite anxious to try him, to see if I could accommodate him ... that ... it.
Juanita was first; she looked up at him as he prepared to kneel, and said, "Please, I'm awfully sore. Couldn't I ... do something else ... or maybe with ... him?" she nodded at the gun-holding Manuel.
Raymond looked down at her; his lips curled, as if to say no, and then he shrugged suddenly and nodded.
"Go ahead. I wouldn't want to damage our hot little bank account. Go ahead, Manuel, take her. But be careful ... keep that gun within reach." I was next in line. He knelt in front of me and, things well in hand, pointed and began. What a trip! Amazingly long, with many stops and back downs. But he finally made it. And once there, completely, he began to pinch my nipples and pull them as if I were some brand of two-legged milk-cow. I closed my eyes and clamped my jaw tight and waited for him to back off. Then: wham, bang! He was gone and back again, and seconds later the movements became steady and strong and fast fast fast!
Oh, it was delicious! A thousand little flower-petals opened within me and superb gatherings and flickers snapped like rubber bands! Each withdrawal gave me a fleeting regret; and each forward trip evoked a quick intake of breath and a bevy of joy-spasms! My chemistry literally palpitated! That awe-inspiring pride of his brought me to the brink of pellucid passion! There was pain, too. The infection of so much into so little (or so I've been told) could not be accomplished without some pain. But the pleasure was so intense that even the sharpest pain would have faded into insignificance!
And my culmination!!! and his!!! It was as if I were being inundated with a balm of hot oil! I quivered like one in deep shock and I felt as if I were losing some integral gear from my most necessary machinery! My stomach drew into a knot; my thighs cramped convulsively; my head whirled and I snorted and groaned like one in delirium tremens. I reached down and cupped the great hirsute spheres that nestled below that gnarled and knobby avenger and I felt them shudder and throb like a pair of bloated, croaking toads!
When he was through with me I lay back gasping. So numb and mindless was I that I scarcely heard Marie's ecstatic cry of pleasure as Raymond tended her. How long I lay there, half in coma, half awake, I don't know. But when I became aware of things I saw the ugly little Manuel Ortega going to town with Juanita. They were both bent like pretzels and were dipping into one another with lascivious energy. Manuel's head was bouncing like a punching-bag; Juanita was having no trouble implementing his sorry dearth of flesh.
Glancing behind me I was appalled to see that Raymond had Marie bent over a bench ... face down. No! I rubbed my eyes. "It's impossible!" I exclaimed aloud. But yes! And she was enjoying it too! With each move he'd make she'd grimace in pain-but, as it had been with me (though not that way), the pain was pale and puny compared to the sheer delight that that noble shaft imparted!
And later, when the fully clothed Manuel, gun in hand, escorted us back to the room, I walked as if I'd been riding a horse for a solid week.
"Did they hurt you? What did they want? Did they mess around with Juanita?" Jerry asked these, and a dozen other questions, all at once.
"Did they molest you, Susan?" Ed finally got a word in.
"No," I lied. "They just made us drink with them." Then I winked at Juanita and nodded at Marie.
Why tell them the truth? Why hurt them? Why make them uselessly angry? It would probably only worsen our predicament. Jerry, it was obvious, had become somewhat infatuated with Juanita. And my feelings for Ed O'dea, while somewhat equivocal, were becoming more and more fond. I don't think he entirely believed my story though; he kept looking at me, his eyes sad and distressed.
CHAPTER TEN
Time passed slowly in that cold, damp cell of a room. I wondered what it had been used for when the mission was inhabited. The room was not only damp-but it exuded that moldering aura of age and decay which I have always found particularly offensive. Indeed, it reminded me, as I daydreamed, trying to pass the time, of an experience I had had several years back-just after I had graduated from business-college.
There was this girl (she reminded me much of Marie) named Francis Crawford. We grew up together and went through school together. Francis, after graduating, tried secretarial work, but didn't care for it-found it not demanding enough. Finally she got into real estate, where she did very well from the very beginning. She was a natural; she exuded that rather lofty aura of professional self-assurance that let a prospect know immediately she was all business and that she knew her business thoroughly. There were those that said she had a great deal of poise and class; others merely called her stuck-up or insincere. But I called her "Frenetic", which means, technically: frenzied, excitable, energetic, emotional.
Francis did have, on the surface, a great deal of poise and class; it was understandable why some of her more casual acquaintances thought she was stuck-up. But Francis' poise was simply a pose, an affectation. Beneath her calm, satin-smooth facade smoldered an active volcano of violent emotions; of often conflicting emotions; of always unpredictable emotions (in our teens we used to relieve one another occasionally--and at times she'd stop, at just the crucial time, and say she was disgusted with herself. And then, at other times, she'd go at it for hours and hours, working herself into an exhausted, trembling lather).
Before she was twenty-four Francis had burnt out two husbands (one younger than herself) and netted over two hundred thousand in real estate commissions. Her mind was a fine tight calculating machine and her body a fine tight loving machine; she used both with a passion that was altogether consuming and nothing less than "frenetic".
When she was working on a deal, her clients were inevitably impressed and reassured by her business acumen and unruffled efficiency; they were awed by her confident, uninterrupted stream of words: capital-gains, land-values, depreciation, interest, profits-all issued from her rather petulant lips with the crisp authority of freshly minted thousand dollar bills. But after she had put a deal together, and contracts were signed, sealed and in escrow, Francis Crawford would all but come unglued! With the strain removed, the tottery dam that held her emotions in check would burst. And at these times she would always fly to me: white-faced, wringing her hands, panting excitedly, talking in semi-coherent spurts, her poise a shambles.
Experience had taught me that there were only three things that tranquilized Francis on these "frenetic" occasions: alcohol (preferably gin) quiet talk, and sex (and preferably in that order). So I wasn't overly surprised one August evening when I answered a frantic pounding on my apartment door and found Francis standing there: white-faced, wringing her hands, panting excitedly, talking in semi-coherent spurts, her poise a shambles.
"Come in, Francis, come in," I interrupted her fevered gibberish and opened the door wide. She walked past me, staggering a little. "And I suppose you could use a drink," I added, noticing with some alarm that she seemed even more distraught-"frenetic"-than usual.
She nodded, tightening her mouth as if she were about to cry; then she dropped in a chair, crossed her knees, sighed and stared straight ahead-one of those unseeing, opaque stares. I watched her as I poured our drinks (a double for her). She was still dressed in a business suit (severely tailored, but not severe enough to diminish her lascivious outline of breast, hip and thigh by one whit) so I reasoned she'd just consummated some unusually testy real estate deal. She didn't move, just kept staring straight ahead.
"Here, Fran," I handed her her drink, "bottom's up," I clich'd, lifting my glass to toast her, smiling. She ignored me; holding her glass between the fingers of both hands she drained it with a quick sweeping gesture that implied desperation. "Another?" I reached for her glass.
"Uh-huh," she nodded quickly, her eyes still opaque.
I poured her another, handed it to her, she downed it swiftly.
"Well, Fran, I assume you've just tucked a nice fat deal away in escrow, eh?"
I was standing. She looked up at me, her eyes cleared a bit, she grinned wryly and shook her head. "Don't I wish," she snorted.
"Oh! You don't mean something fell through? You didn't lose a deal?"
"Gimme," she held out her empty glass. I poured her a small one. She threw her head back and tossed it down. Quite dramatically. Dramatics pique me.
"Okay, then okay! So what the hell's wrong? I know you've been working all month with that fusty old land-developer ... what's his name?"
"Biddle," she hissed. "Clarence Biddle. Of Biddle and Biddle Land Developers. A father and son outfit." She looked up at me then, grimaced, and added: "And Biddle the elder wants to diddle."
"He what?" I had met old Biddle; he was sixty-five if he was a day and the lines in his face looked like a topography map of Arizona; his breath was simply putrid; he was skinny as a scarecrow, quite bald, and he picked his inordinately large nose incessantly; last, though in Biddle's case definitely least, he was terribly rich.
"You heard me," Francis sighed and nodded. "It's either diddle or no deal."
"Well! You told him to take his deal and diddle it, didn't you?"
She looked up at me, shrugged, shook her head slowly.
"You mean you agreed?"
She nodded.
"But why, Francis? You don't need money that bad. You simply can't sell your...."
"Listen, Susan," she cut me off, "that commission's twenty thousand. I don't even have to wait for escrow ... Biddle's going to give me a check ... right afterwards. I want that money, Susan. Badly."
"You must. But twenty thousand ... that is a lot of money ... 'nuff to turn a gal's head."
"I'll have to," Francis nodded, a gleam of levity brightening her face.
"So when's the ordeal supposed to come off?"
"That, Susan, was an unfortunate choice of words," Francis quipped, almost gaily-the gin was doing its job. "But as long as you've asked ... sit down and I'll tell you."
"Why should I sit down?"
"How much do you make as secretary, Susan," she pointedly ignored my question; I grew instantly suspicious.
"Francis Crawford, just why should I sit down?"
"Eight, maybe nine thousand a year, right?" she pursed her lips and looked at me sideways. "So?"
"You could use more couldn't you, Susan? A lot more?"
"So...?"
"So Biddle's diddle is supposed to come off right here in," she glanced at her watch, "one hour."
"No! Francis! Why here?"
"Remember when we were kids, Susan? Remember how it was always much easier when we shared unpleasant things ... dishes, homework, guilt? Remember?"
"Yes. So?"
"So let's share old Biddle. I'll split my commission with you; that's more than you'd make in a year."
"What?"
"Well, why not?"
"Lot's of reasons."
"Not even for your best friend?" (She knew that always weakened me.) "And ten thousand dollars?"
I sighed, shrugged, grinned resignedly, and said, "Well, why not."
Clarence Biddle, when he arrived and Francis told him about our 'share the wealth' plan, was as ecstatic as a kid with two Hershey bars; he chuckled delightedly, rubbed his hands together briskly, drooled a little, and his watery old eyes twinkled in salacious expectancy. I shuddered, steeling myself for the ordeal, sustained only by the promise of my substantial financial share in the venture, and the all too flimsy excuse that I was aiding my best friend.
(It must be admitted, though, that the "ordeal" didn't turn out too badly. Francis, as was her won't in the hay, went completely frenetic, inspiring old Biddle to sort of outdo himself. And I, in turn, inspired through Biddle's 'outdoings', had a stroke or two of exceeding good luck-Biddle's diddle brought me ten thousand and a bevy of unexpected bonuses.)
I answered a frantic knocking at my door the next morning and found Francis standing there: white-faced, wringing her hands, panting excitedly, talking in semi-coherent spurts, her poise a shambles. I let her in, fed her three drinks in rapid succession, waited for her to gain composure enough to speak coherently. Finally: "You won't believe this, Susan, but...." she faltered.
"Try me," I encouraged.
"Well,' 'she took a deep breath, "Clarence Biddle's the junior half of Biddle and Biddle."
"You're kidding!" I stared at her, thinking she simply had to be kidding.
"No, really. I've just come from their office ... went to pick up our check ... and there he was ... Methuselah himself. And it seems that senior has to okay all of junior's deals, and ... well ... unless," she faltered again.
"Unless what, Francis?"
"You'd better sit down, Susan, while I tell you."
Coming out of my nostalgic daydream of the past, I looked around the room at the musty walls. Yes, there was much about our cell that reminded me of that experience with Biddle Junior and Biddle Senior. But even Biddle Senior had been better than this. At least he'd provided a bed....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two days later we were a tired, disheveled and disgruntled group. We were hungry, sore, and thoroughly disgusted with our tormentors. They had given us only two thin blankets to sleep on, and a plateful of tortillas and beans once a day was our sole food. (Hardly "soul" food.)
Ed complained, telling Manuel Ortega, when that shifty-eyed shrimp brought us our food, that we needed more blankets and more food. But the ugly little Mexican merely laughed at him and said, "That's more food than a peon eats; it's more than enough for a lazy Americano. And if you are cold at night, get next to your women. They're hot enough to keep you warm."
"What the hell did he mean by that?" Ed looked at me suspiciously, after Ortega had left.
"How should I know?" I answered him, feeling understandably irritable. But then I thought about it and decided I was flattered at his concern (or his jealousy?).
I thought about other things, too. (There is nothing better than physical privation if one wants to become clear-headed and really objective.) And all my thoughts weren't complimentary-at least where I was concerned. My little...."get-togethers" ... with Marie and Juanita were on my conscience; I couldn't help thinking that perhaps (just perhaps) they had brought out some latent taint of lesbianism in me. I had heard that every woman has the lesbian spark within her-and that the right time, circumstance and woman (or women) could fan that spark into an all consuming blaze.
And Ed. He had admitted that he had run off to Mexico to escape a homosexual tendency. Was it just that?-a tendency? Or was he, without being fully aware of it himself, a died-in-the-wool pervert? Realizing, though, that I had wondered about Ed before, I told myself to stop trying to analyze him. Time will tell, Susan, I kept repeating to myself. But would it? What was going to happen to us? How long would they keep us locked up? Would Raymond be giving us any more of his...."Spanish lessons"? Would Mr. Alvarez pay a large ransom for his daughter? Or would he call in the police? And when they turned us loose (if they turned us loose) would we be blamed for everything and arrested for kidnapping? As you can see-I was terribly confused about everything.
And then, the morning of the third day, the tide changed. Manuel Ortega, who had been eying Marie strangely whenever he brought us food (food?), asked Marie for one of her shoes.
"What for? I can't go barefoot, this damn cement's cold," she objected.
"Give it to me, bitch!" he shouted, threatening to club her with his gun.
"Okay, okay," she nodded; pulling one high-heeled shoe off she handed it to him.
His expression, as soon as he touched the shoe, changed drastically! A weak smile and sudden heaviness of his eye-lids erased the sneer he usually wore. He backed away from us into a far corner where, still holding the gun on us, he began to look at the shoe with a rapt stare. Suddenly he squatted, and, clamping the shoe between his knees, began to fondle it tenderly (the "shoe" I mean).
"Watch him," Ed whispered to Jerry. "This may be our chance."
The gun still levelled on us, he kept fondling Marie's shoe, pinching the toe, stroking the instep, running his hand up and down the ultra-high heel. His eyelids became even heavier, almost closed. His mouth fell open; he began to pant; his cheeks twitched and his Adam's apple moved up and down nervously.
Little by little, as his stroking became more and more intense and desperate, the barrel of the gun dropped. Slowly, ever so slowly, Ed moved towards him. And then he suddenly stopped stroking the shoe! He brought it up to his face where, sniffing the inside of it like an animal, kissing it ardently, he began whining like a scared dog-evidently in the throes of sexual satisfaction.
Ed moved then, like a jack rabbit shying from a shotgun! And he was on Manuel, wrenching the gun from his weak grip, in less time than it takes to tell about it! The ugly little Mexican cringed at his feet where, still holding Marie's shoe and still whining, he squirmed about like a skewered eel.
"Get up, Ortega!" Ed's words were thick with contempt.
He got up, his lips still twitching, his eyes blinking rapidly (I don't think he realized what had happened yet), and held the shoe to his groin.
"Give her back her shoe, you weird little bastard!" Ed cried.
But he didn't; Marie snatched it from him, and he looked like a kid she'd taken candy from.
Ed grabbed him then and whirled him around. "Okay, now, lead us out of here. And if you don't play it cool, Ortega, I'll be more than pleased to put one of your bullets in that spineless back of yours!"
"Where's your friend? Where's Raymond?" Jerry asked him.
"He went to town for food," Ortega answered. "But what are you going to do to me? Please ... don't leave me here. Raymond will kill me if he finds I have allowed you to escape."
"How touching," Ed sneered. "Doesn't that make you sad, girls?"
"Yeah, real sad," Marie replied. "I think I'll break down and cry. I mean ... you know ... it isn't every day you meet a real shoe-sniffer. It'll be a great loss."
"Gives me an idea," Ed said, nodding. "We'll just lock you in here, Ortega. That way you'll be sure to be here when your chum gets back. And tell him for me that if he ever comes back to Mazatlan ... if either of you come back ... I'll kill you. And that's a promise!"
Ed was surprised to find that the key was still in his Ford. As we drove off, everyone talking at once and laughing happily, Marie said, "But why didn't we bring Ortega with us to town? We could've turned him over to the police."
Ed shook his head. "We'd be involved in a long, legal rigmarole if we did that. These Mexican police look after their own. They'd take a dim view of four Americans claiming they were kidnapped by two Mexicans. Oh, we'd probably convince them in the end. But after our ordeal back there ... I'd hate to think of spending a week or more trying to explain things. And they'd probably lock us up while they decided what to do, too."
"Manana, eh?" Marie shrugged.
"Right," Ed grinned at her. "And sometimes manana never comes."
"Now what?" Jerry looked at me.
"Let's eat!" Marie exclaimed.
"But let's clean up first," I said. "And then eat and drink and ... relax."
"Sounds great!" Ed beamed, pressing down hard on the accelerator. "We'll have ourselves a little party."
"And then ... I suppose you'll be taking me back to Hermosillo?" Juanita spoke up.
I looked at Marie; Marie looked at me; both of us looked at Jerry (who was looking longingly at Juanita). I shrugged. Marie shrugged. Jerry spoke up:
"I don't see why we should. The bad times are over. Let's all have some fun before we head back to Hermosillo. The next place down the coast ... San Bias ... let's take a run down there."
"I'll come along if you don't mind," Ed put in. "I've always wanted to get down to that jungle country ... and besides ... ," he glanced quickly at me, "I've got sort of a vested interest in you people. Feel kind of ... responsible."
"Oh, please, let's!" Juanita exploded. "It'll be loads of fun! And I don't want to go home yet."
"What do you think, Marie?" I felt, after all that had happened, hesitant about making any big decisions.
"Fine with me," she shrugged, surprising me some.
"Okay, then," I smiled weakly at Juanita, "we'll take you with us. But please ... don't wander off. My nerves simply couldn't stand another kidnapping. And I'm glad you're coming, Ed. Another man might come in handy."
"In more ways than one!" Marie put in.
Once back at the motel, we took our time cleaning up. Hot water and soap-suds never felt better-and it was a sheer joy to put on fresh clothes and to be able to use a mirror again to brush my hair and do my face.
Jerry, who had gone with Ed to shave and clean up (and what else?-I wondered), walked in on us just as we were ready to come out.
"Come on, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. Ed's cook, Pancho, has fried about a dozen chickens for us."
And so we ate. Fried chicken. Loads and loads of it! And all washed down with chablis, a light fruity white wine. And we had fluffy baked potato with cheese-sauce and chives and a crisp green salad smothered with sour cream. Black coffee with chicory and Kahlua in it made everything rosy and we sat back afterwards and chatted contentedly. Life seemed good; we were all in the rare mood that comes when shared danger and excitement are over and the stomach is full. But what "talk" we made!
"What was that business with my shoe? Anyone know?" Marie looked around the table.
"Yes, he had a shoe-fetish. It's a fairly common neurotic pattern," Ed volunteered.
"D'you mean he ... actually got his ... you know ... just from stroking my shoe?" Marie's look of incredulity was comical.
"That's right," Ed nodded, smiling at her. "Take's all kinds," he added.
"Don't any of you have any ... what is the word?" Juanita began.
"Fetishes," Ed supplied.
"Fetishes," she repeated. "Don't any of you have any fetishes?"
I shrugged and shook my head; Marie did likewise; Jerry and Ed said no at the same time. "Have you?" Marie asked her.
"Oh, yes," her eyes widened. "Many."
"You're too honest," I chided her.
"Why?" she made a face. "It's the truth. I was so made. I didn't ask to be born with them; they just ... happened."
Marie, never tactful, said, "Tell us about some of them. What's your favorite one."
"Favorite," Juanita shrugged. "I have no favorite. When one is a slave, one hates all masters."
"But ... you know ... tell us what you ... you know."
"What I do?" Juanita filled in.
"Never mind, Marie," I interrupted. "You're too nosey. That's Juanita's business ... have a little consideration." I was really piqued at her.
"That's all right," Juanita began. "I really don't mind. Sometimes it helps to get these things out in the open ... to talk about them," she paused, cupped her chin reflectively and then began again:
"There is my dog ... I sometimes feel that I am in love with him. Especially when he ... well ... we are very close. And then pictures ... of men ... in underwear advertisements. And then I love to catch a bird ... and hold him down close to me ... so that his fluttering wings beat against me. And then ... redheaded women ... when I touch their hair I ... become very excited. Girls fighting ... girls in wet clothing ... both excite me until I ... And then ... as you know ... I like to be watched. And I like to watch others ... when they do not know I am there. Large fires stimulate me. And pain. And causing pain. And I love to be dominated by women. Gloves ... especially long black ones. And red garters and rubber clothing and dressing in men's clothes. And many other things!"
"Are there any others?" Marie raised her eyebrows and made a queasy face.
"Oh, yes," Juanita nodded. "Like yours. Preferring to be made love to from behind."
Marie turned red as a beet; we tried to refrain from laughing but the strain was too much for me.
"That's all right, Susan," Marie nodded and shifted quickly in her chair. "You've played a few games with me that sure wouldn't qualify you as any Sunday school teacher."
She was right of course; it was my turn to blush and fidget uneasily in my seat.
"But isn't there any cure for all that, Juanita?" Jerry cleared the air by asking her.
She made a hopeless face and shrugged. "Some say yes, some say no. Why?" she looked at Jerry curiously. "Would you like me to be cured, Jerry?" He looked down at his plate, swallowed, and said, "Yeah, I would. And if you'd marry me I'll bet I could cure you."
Juanita's mouth fell open; she looked at Jerry as if she were seeing him for the first time.
It was Ed's turn to clear the air. "Pancho!" he called out, "bring us some tea."
"Tea!" Marie made a distasteful face.
"Yes, care for some?" Ed grinned, looking around at all of us.
"D'you mean...?" I began.
"Yes" he interjected, "marijuana. Shall we have some? I've got the best."
I shrugged and, looking quickly at Marie, and remembered the last time we had smoked the stuff: my amorous reaction.
"Does it have any aphrodisiac in it?" Juanita seemed to read my thoughts.
"No," Ed looked surprised. "It's just plain, uncut pot. But don't worry ... it'll turn you on sexually, too," he added, looking at Marie. "At least it does most people."
"Swell!" Marie cried. "Let's have at it! All this talk about sex calls for some action."
We lit up and puffed away-and Ed laughed at us.
"No, no. You won't get anything from it like that," he told us. "Watch," he took little short puffs, and held his breath 'til his face turned red before he exhaled (and when he did-"exhale"-hardly any smoke came out).
"That way you absorb the stuff," he said.
So we tried it; less than five minutes later I felt as if I had entered some soft new dream world.
"Hey, I feel weird!" Jerry grinned sleepily.
"Me, too," Marie added.
"This is very strong weed," Juanita commented authoritatively.
"I wouldn't know," I said. "But my head is certainly whirling strangely."
"Can I sit in your lap, Jerry?" Marie asked him "Well ... I ... ," he looked uneasily at Juanita. "Go ahead, Jerry," she said quietly. "If you don't want her ... I do."
"See how popular I am!" Marie rose and, lifting her skirt in one quick sweeping motion, plopped down on Jerry's lap! Then, entirely ignoring the rest of us, she reached beneath her and-"zipp"-soon had what I'm sure she would term-"the very best of Jerry."
Ed looked first at me and then at Juanita and cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Go ahead, you two," Juanita spoke up. "I'll just ... watch for awhile."
Ed was at me then like a wolf after a fallen doe! Pulling my clothes off in great haste, he kissed my breasts and stomach and ran his tongue in and around my navel hungrily!
"Take your clothes off, Ed," I told him.
He did; then, bending me back over a table, lifting both of my legs high up on his shoulders, he turned to Juanita and said, "In that top drawer over there ... beside the kitchen ... you'll find a long blue ribbon. Bring it to me, Juanita."
She moved quickly and got it-and her eyes were smoldering when she handed it to him. "What's that for, Ed?" I asked him, my voice quivering with excitement. (I noticed that the ribbon had knots tied in it every six inches or so; it was made of some smooth, glossy material and was at least 10 feet long.)
"A blue ribbon go," he said; then, grinning down at me like a small boy caught with his finger in the holiday pie, he added, "Just try to relax completely. I'm going to ... put all this ... back there."
And he did. All ten feet of it! I felt like a stuffed turkey! I felt back there and found a tiny bit still exposed.
"Hold on now ... here we go!" he pointed, guided, and plunged!
"Oh, Ed, Ed!" I squirmed about on that table like a headless chicken.
"D'you like me this way, Susan?" he began. "Am I good? Am I ... enough?"
I bit my lips and nodded, too full of ... feeling to talk.
"You are good, Susan! Believe me you are! You're ... smooth and moist and hot and ... you should see the look on your face right now, Susan. Your nose is twitching. Your mouth is all crooked. And your breasts ... they're pointing up at me ... and moving like firm Jello. You've got a body, Susan. D'you know that? Hunk? I love it! And you're beautiful, too. Your hair ... your slim neck ... so long ... so full of life and vitality. Oh, yes! Wiggle! Yes, yes, Susan! Am I ... hurting? No? Good! Good, good, good! Your thighs, Susan ... all milk and honey and lovely, lovely, lovely! Susan! Susan! Move now! Now! Now! Oh, Susan! Oh-o-o-o-o-o, Susan!"
And as he reached his culmination I reached mine-and he reached down and began drawing out that knotted blue ribbon.
"Oh-o-o-! E-e-e-e-e! Ah-h-h-h-h-h!" I ululated like a steam-whistle as each knot rippled ecstatic jolts through me! It was utterly fantastic! That ribbon, combined with my climatic spasms, set off a chain-reaction that made my machinery snap like a bevy of clothes-pins! I fairly tweaked! And scarcely had those "tweaks" toned down to delicious, honey-combed stabs, then Juanita was there trying to push me off the table.
'Tour turn to watch now, Susan. Do that to me, Ed. I want a ribbon in my hair."
I watched, gasping like a freshly landed fish. And I wondered (as I watched) what sort of adventures or (misadventures) the Jungles of San Bias would bring us....
CHAPTER TWELVE
San Bias lies some five hundred kilometers below Mazatlan. It's a sleepy little village of only eighteen hundred people and the Jungle that surrounds it is lush, green and humid.
We signed in at a hotel in the center of town: The Buccanero. And for three days and nights we did nothing but rest. We'd get up late, eat breakfast, go back to our rooms, lay around, have lunch, sit around the central patio afterwards and chat, take an afternoon siesta, clean up for dinner, have several cocktails, eat (either steak or lobster or shrimp), walk slowly around town (a ten minute walk), return to The Buccanero for a nightcap or two, and then to bed. (Jerry and Ed had a room together; we three girls shared another. ) We led a lazy life.
It was during breakfast on the fourth day of our stay that Jerry suggested we do something exciting.
"I'm getting bored; this rest has been real fine but let's not stretch it to the point of sleeping-sickness."
Ed nodded in agreement. "How about hiring one of the local guides to take us on a trip up river? I understand they have dugout canoes and outboard motors."
"Sounds like fun," Marie put in. "Let's go."
"Yes, I feel brim-full of energy," Juanita added. "Let's do something ... anything."
Ed made arrangements with a slim, roguish looking Mexican that everyone in town referred to as-"the pirate". He told us to bring enough food and beer for a possible two day stay, and to bring our swimming suits. After the arrangements were made, and the time set for our departure, Ed asked the Mexican something in Spanish that evoked a sly smile from him.
"You mean you want to go back to the Zacchi village? And take ... your women, too?"
"Yes, can you take us there? I'll pay you whatever you think it's worth."
"Si, senor. I can take you there. But do you ... know about the Zacchis? They have very strange customs."
"Yes, I know about them. That's what I want to see ... their strange customs."
The Mexican nodded and shrugged. "As you wish, senor. I will be ready to leave in an hour. Bring your food and your beer to the bridge as soon as you can."
"What's with this beer bit?" Marie, who didn't care much for beer, asked.
"The water's bad. Beer is both food and water around here," Ed replied.
The dugout was quite large and comfortable; we shoved off from the dock shortly after noon, and the sun's blistering rays gave the turgid river water a mirror-like vibrance and a blinding glare. But soon we rounded a bend and plunged into a sort of labyrinth of mangroves and tangled overhead vegetation. It was comparatively cool and shady there and, our colorful guide-who really looked like a "pirate"-entertained us with a continuous stream of humorous banter.
We passed several open areas where the banks of the narrowing stream were lined with banana trees. There were parrots and gaily-colored birds everywhere, and their continuous chatter reminded me of the recording: Quiet Village. Finally the river narrowed to a shallow ribbon-like water-trail and the underbrush that lined the banks looked to be well nigh impenetrable. We putted along, quite slowly, until, without warning, the stream widened again into a broad, deep river. The undergrowth was much thinner, and the sun, though its rays were beginning to slant, much hotter.
"Give me one of those beers," Jerry's voice-no one had spoken for some time-sounded weird in the eerie silence around us. I jumped, startled.
Ed handed him a beer, took one himself, and said, "Notice anything different?"
Jerry shook his head and shrugged.
"I have," Marie spoke up. "It's damned hot. I'll take one of those beers, please."
Ed passed her a bottle. "I was referring to the chatter of the birds," he said. "It's stopped ... notice?"
"It is quiet," Juanita looked at the tree-lined banks. And then, her face lighting up, she added: "Oh, look! A village!"
"Si, senorita. The Zacchis. This is their village. This is our destination."
We pulled in to the river bank, and the "pirate", after we had climbed ashore, tied the boat to a tree and said, somewhat apologetically, "I have brought American men to this village twice before ... but never have I brought a woman. The villagers are ... very primitive."
"Oh, look at them!" Marie ejaculated. "Why they're ... they're marvelous!"
A mixed contingent of men, women and children had gathered above us in a clearing. The most cursory first glance showed them to be unusually tall, fair-skinned and fine-featured.
"They're Mayans," Ed spoke up. "The last of a vanishing race."
All of them, men, women and children, were attired in loincloths ... and only loincloths (the women were bare-breasted). Their bodies, even the old men and women, were lithe and symmetrical; they smiled down at us with friendly expressions and the hum of their quiet animated talk reminded me of the pleasant droning of bees. A powerfully built man, taller than the rest, stepped forward and approached Ed, who had begun to climb the bank towards them.
"Welcome to our village," he said, in almost perfect English. Then, reaching out first, he took Ed's hand and shook it warmly.
"Thank you," Ed nodded. "We ... my friends and I ... want to observe your customs. We are North Americans. I have long heard of the Zacchis and their rites and ... ," he paused and glanced back at us, "we feel we could broaden our viewpoints by observing them."
The man nodded slowly and looked down at us. "Yes, but you must not only observe to learn ... you must participate. My name is Grande; I am Chief of the Zacchis. If you will come with me, I will take you to my woman."
We followed. Marie, walking close beside me, whispered: "Grande, that means big, doesn't it?"
"Yes," Juanita answered her.
"Hmm," Marie hummed. "I wonder what the big refers to? And what's with this-I'll take you to my woman bit?"
"Who knows?" I replied.
As we walked down an earthen path that was lined on each side with adobe shacks, at least thirty laughing and chattering men and women followed us. They seemed as unaffected and naive as young children; their voices were soft and melodious and they walked with a effortless grace. Juanita, who had been walking directly behind us, pulled on my arm suddenly and said, "Do you understand what they are saying?"
"No, of course not," I replied.
"What are they saying?" Marie interjected. "They are comparing us. They are speculating on which of us is the most passionate. And they keep mentioning someone called Ram."
"How interesting," Marie nudged me and grinned. "Sounds as if we might get more action than we bargained for here in the backwoods."
Our guide, the "pirate", was trailing behind us. Turning to him I said, "I thought you said they were so primitive; they seem to be anything but that."
"By primitive I meant their customs, senorita. You will see ... they behave like animals."
A large, imposing structure of red adobe suddenly loomed up ahead of us. As we approached it I saw that there were hieroglyphics covering its walls (and what hieroglyphics!). Men, women, animals, all in postures of sexual union! And they were done in the straight lined, artistically immature fashion of Egyptian hieroglyphics. Then, as we approached the front entrance to the huge "A" framed structure, I heard Marie and Juanita gasp; I turned and, following their gaze, saw a huge carving of a man's ... yes! It guarded the entrance like a silent sentinel, and its life-like characteristics made it look as if some giant had been buried on his back-but not deeply enough to conceal that mighty member! I began to wonder what lay in store for us with the Zacchis.
The Chief opened the door with rather a grand flourish and said, "My woman awaits you. Your pleasure is her pleasure."
We walked in; the vast ceiling lent the one-roomed interior the spacious infinity of a school gymnasium. The windows on the side were inadequate and (even though the sun was still shining) cross-patches of sunlight intersected, lending the chamber the haze of perpetual twilight. There was a raised stage towards the back and two wide beams of sunlight suffused its center in soft light. We approached the stage. Close up, I noticed that its floor was strewn with grass-mats, one piled on the other.
The Chief clapped his hands. "There are two men, Vita," he called out. "Treat them as guests of the Zacchi."
"Yes, Grande, I will love them as I love you," the sonorous voice of a woman vibrated from the shadows; then we saw her. Stepping from the al most complete darkness behind the stage, a tall, exceedingly long-limbed woman entered the dissecting rays of sunlight. And save for the long, black hair that fell over her shoulders and breasts in shimmering folds, she was quite nude!
She must have been nearly six feet tall! Her skin was the color of sage-honey and her figure was flawlessly proportioned, though on the Rubenesque, voluptuous side. Her breasts were massive, large as melons-though remarkably high and firm. She had a Kim Novak sensuality through the eyes and mouth-but her forehead, a bit too high, gave her a sublime, scholarly look.
"Go to Vita", the Chief gently shoved Ed and Jerry towards her. "'She is waiting to extend you our love and hospitality. It is an age-old Zacchi custom."
"Some custom," Marie whispered.
"Shhh," I cautioned her. "Just watch. You might learn something."
Taking Ed and Jerry by the hand, drawing them against her, the woman said, "Use me as you will. Command me as you will. I am a slave to your whims."
Ed glanced back at me and, loosing a grin, shrugged.
"Go ahead," I reassured him. "After all, it's the custom."
"Yes, Jerry," Juanita added. "Don't disappoint them ... or us."
And then there occurred the most direct and brutal and lascivious and downright perverted sex-scene that I have ever witnessed! I will not describe the unholy details (I wouldn't dare!). But I will say that that woman-"Vita"-had more fire and libido and plain old hot-pants than any woman I've seen (before or since!) Ed and Jerry ended up being veritably "used" by her! She was on them and over them and entwined around them like some sort of sexual octopus!
She worked with a deliberate ferocity! Literally tearing their clothes off, she kissed and bit and licked every inch of attainable flesh! I heard her growl once, and saw a gleam of pure animal lust in her eyes as she bit into the tawny flesh of her own arm! Muscles danced beneath her skin as she worked and I caught a strange musky odor: the sea at low tide and (yes!) the acrid effluvia of fresh blood!
"Wow!" Marie ejaculated, her eyes wide with wonder. "Some hospitality, eh? I wonder if they have something as nice for female visitors?"
I glanced at Juanita and saw that she was terribly disturbed. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly and she was stroking herself through her skirt.
Finally Jerry's cry of "Enough, enough, I'm done in," brought the scene to a conclusion. Soon the woman disappeared again into the shadows; Ed and Jerry, shaking and panting, crawled back into their clothes.
The Chief cleared his throat and spoke up: "When you are ready, I will take you to our eating place. And when you have eaten and rested I will show you our village and explain our ways." He looked at Juanita and Marie and myself then and smiled, adding: "And I will introduce you to my son ... Ram."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The food we were given was simple but quite satisfying-melons, bananas, papayas and baked fish. It was served to us in what appeared to be some sort of community eating place-and by comely young maidens who smiled and flirted outlandishly at Ed and Jerry. (Though they, after their "hospitable treatment" by the Chiefs wife, Vita, paid scant attention to anything but the food.)
It was while we were eating that the Chief-who sat with us and slowly ate some fruit-gave us a rather detailed explanation of Zacchi customs and beliefs. Marie had set him off by asking:
"That ... ah ... big carving just outside the building where your wife ... er ... extended her ... hospitality ... what does it stand for?"
"That is King Erectus, whom we worship."
Ed looked up and nodded. "Yes, I've heard stories about that ... that you worship a phallic symbol. But what does it all stand for? I mean ... you're an intelligent man. Do you actually worship such a totem?
"Yes, with adoration! And intelligence has nothing to do with it. I was educated in Mexico City's best schools and universities ... but my love and veneration for King Erectus has nothing to do with my intellect or with rational thought. It is a feeling that we Zacchis have shared since time immemorial. The intellect is a tool for reasoning and deducing ... but one's feelings are often more reliable. They are not prejudiced. They come from a man's stomach and spleen and heart. The Zacchis feel that all life comes through King Erectus; without the male member there would be no means for perpetuating life. We Zacchis love life. So we feel it is truly fitting that we both love and worship the male life force. We live an uncomplicated life here. We grow a few crops. The jungle supplies us with fowl and fruits and wild pig. We work together and play together ... and worship King Erectus together. Love ... sexual love ... is the chain that binds us and makes our lives full and enjoyable."
"But you don't seem overcrowded," Ed added. "I'd think that with all your ... well . .
"We have natural ways to prevent that," the Chief smiled and nodded.
"But doesn't it all get ... boring?" Marie screwed up her mouth and shrugged.
"Not at all. We never force issues here. If a man and woman ... after puberty ... want to have a sexual relationship, they simply have it."
"Kind of a nature-boy thing, eh?" Jerry grinned. "But aren't there pitfalls ... jealousy and envy and such?" I questioned Grande.
He shrugged and smiled. "Sometimes. We are only human. But compared with your complicated society ... with its emphasis on such material things as clothes and automobiles, we have very little jealousy or envy. We dress as we like. We aspire to no political positions, nor do we make foolish rules and laws or worry about taxes or the payment of bills. We eat. We sleep. We work just enough to support our wants and needs. We hunt. We fish. We sing and dance. We make love."
"Sounds ideal," Juanita sighed. "It is too bad that life everywhere is not so ... uncomplicated."
"No," he went on, "I'm afraid it would not work for most of the so called civilized countries to adopt our methods. They would become bored. Americans, for example, are far too cosmopolitan for a return to nature ... and sanity. Your culture is based on acquisition and challenge. You have built within yourselves a need to make things complex ... to constantly work towards some vague indefinable end called success. Success to a Zacchi is having a satisfactory sexual union, or sleeping well afterwards. Success to you is many things-most of them forever elusive and often quite unobtainable."
"Perhaps I shouldn't mention this," I spoke up, "but ... well ... an American husband would never allow his wife to have sex with other men. But here ... you ... well ... how can you feel the same about your wife afterwards ... after watching her?"
The Chief smiled and looked me in the eye. "I somehow thought that you would be the one to ask me that," he said.
"Oh, why?" I smiled.
"Because, you're possessive," he nodded smiling. "You are quiet ... passionate ... and very, very possessive."
I blushed, hating myself for it, and I busied myself pulling the bones out of the piece of fish I was eating.
"But maybe I can explain how a Zacchi feels about ... lending his wife or daughter ... or son. (Marie, when he said "son", winked at me and grinned foolishly.) We are generous with one another sexually because we know that a mere exchange of flesh-pleasure does not change our basic love and respect for one another. My wife, while I love her deeply, gave nothing but the lust of her body to you two strangers-and by so doing you became strangers no longer. My wife ... like all Zacchi men and women ... has many sexual facets in her own individual makeup. She is unique, like all of us. And by exchanging caresses and kisses and by letting you use her in every conceivable way ... she is enabled to bring every facet of her uniqueness into play. She is made complete and whole. She becomes a full woman. Think now, what has happened! Her mouth has touched yours! Her breasts, her lovely hair, everything she has become known to you and has been used by you. But Vita is still Vita! All she has done with you is extend the courtesy of her animal nature ... which we all have ... and which civilization has perverted and given the name immoral. Here, here is half of the banana I am eating ... share it with you," he handed it to me. "Now ... though we've both eaten of the same fruit ... are we thereby evil ... or immoral? No. We have merely taken a mutual pleasure in nourishing our animal needs by sharing. If you were mine," he indicated me, "and I shared you with him," he indicated Ed, "I would not be losing you by so doing ... for your body-wisdom would grow and become wiser. I would gain, not lose. But if you were to change her way of thinking ... if you were to cause her to mistrust me or hate me ... then would I have just cause to revenge myself against you. For then, and only then, would you have taken and abused what is precious to me and what I sorely need and covet. You touch this table ... it is still only a table, you have not changed its real nature by one cubic. But if you borrow it from me and return it without its legs ... then you have altered its being. Take this table ... take my wife ... whatever I cherish ... but bring them back to me well-used ... and you bring me the gift of enriched life. Do you see? Or has all my talk merely confused and shocked you?"
"Not at all," I shook my head, noticing that Ed seemed in deep thought.
"Let me ask you this, Grande," Jerry put in. "With all this ... this sex ... do you have any perverts here?"
"No, not in the sense that you speak of a pervert, young man. We do mix sexually ... but not from any neurotic tendency. Love is love to a Zacchi. And ... as you people say ... variety is the spice of life. When a man enters into a relationship with a man ... or a woman with a woman ... a Zacchi never stops to consider or worry about perversion. Such words as homosexual and lesbian do not exist in our day to day vocabulary. Occasionally, though, we do find a young man or girl developing a decided preference for their own sex."
"Yes, and what do you about that?" Ed spoke up suddenly.
The Chief looked at him for a brief moment-curiously-and then answered: "We have herbs here. We administer them in large doses and they bum out any genuine sexual problems most satisfactorily."
Juanita stirred in her chair then and, catching her breath with a gasp, said, "I am told that I have a woman's ... sexual weakness ... that I am a...."
"Nymphomaniac?" the Chief interjected with a vague smile.
Juanita shifted uneasily and nodded; Jerry reached for her arm and squeezed it.
"We can help you, if you want, I promise you. But you must want to be helped."
"Oh, I do, I do! Can you really help me? Oh, wonderful! Wonderful!" she clapped her hands like a delighted child.
"It is an exhausting and painful process. The herbs will at first make you even more sexually excited, and then very sick. The process takes two days and nights. Are you absolutely certain that you want to be rid of your unnatural desires?"
"Yes, yes, believe me, I am certain! If you can help me I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life!"
"It shall be done then. But first ... come along with me, all of you. I want you to meet my son, Ram ... and his lovely wives."
'Wives!' 'Marie exclaimed, her jaw dropping in astonishment.
"Yes, have I neglected to mention that we Zacchis are polygamous? My son Ram has ... and needs ... seven wives."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Chief led us to a comparatively elaborate adobe house at the far end of a line of more modest huts. Outside the front door was another large, ornately carved King Erectus. And kneeling in front of it, stroking its noble surface with adoring caresses, was a very young and lovely girl. The Chief laid his hand lightly on her head and said:
"Hush, Caliente. You have visitors. Is your husband within?"
She rose quickly and, surveying us in a sweeping (withal pleased) glance, she said, "Yes, Ram is with Dulce. But let us go in. Ram will be gratified to receive visitors."
She opened the door for us and, standing politely to one side, waved us in. I wondered, as we walked in, why the Chief had not bothered to ask us our names, or to introduce us to anyone in a formal fashion. "But I found out later that names were of no importance to the Zacchis; they merely gave themselves any name that suited their individual natures: thus Grande meant big; Vita meant vital and full of vigour; Caliente meant hot: Dulce meant sweet ... but what, I wondered, did Ram mean?
"In here, please," the girl-Caliente-opened another door. "And please be seated until Ram is finished."
"Oh, my goodness!" Marie fairly squealed as we entered.
"Hey, these people are something else!" Jerry exclaimed.
"Good lord!" Ed's expletive was accompanied by a wide-eyed look at me.
"Well ... ," I shrugged and grinned, "we'd better do like she said ... be seated and wait."
We sat side by side on a long bench, a bench that was located only a very short distance from the man and woman who were on the floor (on grass mats) in front of us.
They were clutching and heaving in the throes of the most unusual (and gymnastic) carnal embrace imaginable! And so completely engrossed were they that our entrance was not even noticed! Twisting, writhing, panting jerking snorting groaning-they resembled two fanatical wrestlers who were so evenly matched that victory and defeat were one and the same. The mephitic scent of a libation of love pervaded the room's atmosphere, and the very walls shook with the frenzy of their efforts!
This man was large and extremely well-developed; his muscles stood out prominently beneath his golden skin; his arms and shoulders were corded with strain-giving him the rabid look of some splendid primordial animal. His face, though contorted with desire, was inordinately handsome-a curious blend of the gaunt cheeked Gregory Peck type and the more full, smooth-faced Rock Hudson. He was big ... everywhere!
The woman-Dulce-was small-boned and petite; her hair was cropped short, giving her a boyish look. Her breasts were small, tight and high, with large blue-red nipples. She was pretty-not beautiful. And it was evident that Ram's rams were giving her the most ecstatic sort of pleasure! Her brow was lined in concentration, and her pale blue eyes were clouded with an opaque film of passion. Her squeals were high-pitched and squeaky.
Suddenly their writhings reached their apogee; their snorts and mouthings reached a crescendo; their eyes fluttered spastically and then closed tightly; their humping tightened down to a vibratory buzz-and they peaked-off together!!
Marie clapped. And instantly, because it seemed such a natural (under the circumstances) thing to do, the rest of us joined her, clapping long and hard!
Still the pair ignored us; it wasn't until they removed things and separated that the man looked at us-surveying us with the calm curiosity of an observer watching monkeys in a zoo.
I shrank from his calculating gaze, feeling somehow ashamed and indecent. Then his expression changed, he smiled, and suddenly the room was warm and friendly and everything was very, very right!
The Chief had left us at the front door, leaving Caliente in charge of us (and it occurred to me that even a Zacchi was sensitive about viewing his own flesh and blood in an amorous interlude ). She introduced us by merely saying, "This is Ram, my husband, the Chief's only son." And then, gesturing at us with a nod and a smile, she added;
"Your father brought these strangers to meet you, Ram."
He shook hands warmly with each of us. Then, lifting the petite girl from the floor as if she were a pillow, he said, "And this is Dulce ... she is sweet as honey. And Caliente, there," he nodded towards the lovely young girl who had brought us in, "is as hot as an August wind. My other wives are visiting a neighboring village."
We were all quite nonplussed; it was one of those situations that leave one without a word to say (always an uncomfortable predicament).
"I suppose Vita has extended you our Zacchi hospitality," he looked at Ed and Jerry.
"Er ... yes, yes she did," Ed stammered and reddened. "We ... ah...."
"Do not be embarrassed," Ram smiled. "Vita is no blood relative of mine. She is my father's ninth wife."
"Oh, I see," Ed sighed and glancing at me, gave me a look that showed he was decidedly relieved.
Ram looked at me then, slowly; then at Juanita and Marie just as slowly. "We have never had women visit us. I would be happy to extend all three of you our hospitality ... that is if your men have no objections"
Jerry flushed red and began to fidget nervously; Ed looked at me, shrugged, and said, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander, I suppose."
Ram looked at him, confused. "I'm afraid I...."
"Just an old American saying, Ram," Ed explained. "Means what's good for a man is good for a woman. Even-steven and all."
"Ah," he nodded, his handsome face lighting up, "that is very wise! For man and woman are nearly identical in their needs. The goose and the gander," he repeated, smiling delightedly.
"But haven't we anything to say about that?" I flashed angrily at Ed (the idea of him palming me off so willingly didn't appeal to me at all ... in spite of the fact that I did think he was right).
"I'm all for it," Marie spoke up eagerly, making a wry face at me.
"And so am I," Juanita added.
"You two would be," I sallied.
"Come now, Susan," Marie gave me a twisted grin. "It's the custom. Don't be a spoil-sport. Remember ... when in Rome...."
"Okay, okay! Let's do as the Romans do!" I replied vehemently.
"Bring us herb-tea, Caliente," Ram told the girl. Then, looking briefly at each of us, he added: "We use many herbs for many different purposes. Some revive. Some stimulate. Some are for healing. Some cool the passions, when they are abnormal. Some arouse passion, when passion is desirable. The tea we will drink now is both reviving and arousing." He leveled his eyes at Ed, then at Jerry and added: "And if the two of you would like to avail yourselves of Caliente and Dulce ... please feel free."
It was a bit awkward sitting there drinking tea with a naked stranger-his manhood kept catching my eye; I was reminded of a black sock full of marbles. And as we sipped, that manhood revived! Soon it was standing at attention-looking inflamed and angry (like a one-eyed cobra!).
"Damn!" Marie hissed, rising. Then, walking over to him, standing before him, she ... reached down and touched (like a kitten reaches out for a ball of yarn). "D'you mind?" she said.
"Naturally not," Ram smiled up at her. "Help yourself. I am honoured."
And so Marie...."helped herself". Lifting her skirt, she whirled and sat down in Ram's laps.
"Oh ooooo!" she sighed, as she wriggled her posterior and settled there, like an exhausted laborer sinking into an easy-chair after a long hard day.
And that, Marie's wriggling sigh, unleashed all of everybody's inhibitions! Juanita gave a glad little cry and began to undress! Ed, after pulling off his pants, undressed me! Caliente and Dulce converged on Jerry, who, trying desperately to unzip what was apparently a broken zipper, gave up and let them do it for him! Caliente, as soon as the task was accomplished, took him in hand and smothered his pulsing pride with urgent kisses.
"Oh, please!" Juanita, who was unattended cried out. "Do it to me, please! Somebody! Please! Do it to me!" and she undulated her hips madly.
"Use King Erectus then!" Ram cried out to Dulce; Dulce nodded, left the room for a moment, then returned with a strapped-on King Erectus!
"Oh, yes, yes!" Juanita cried when she spied her, and soon Dulce was tangled with her and behaving like a man!
Bedlam prevailed! But controlled bedlam. And Ram, true to his word, did extend all three of us his version of Zacchi hospitality! The room wasn't large-our combined efforts created a remarkable cacophony of lust-filled sounds that seemed to expand and bounce back on the ear. And when Ram took me, his perspiring belly creating a sucking smack against my own, I pulled Ed's tired pride down to me and kissed it back to a semblance of life. Seconds later both Ram and Ed culminated! And I, inspired and enraptured by absorbing them both, felt the sudden openings and blossomings of ten thousand orchids within my rearing buttocks!
I'm afraid, though, that our little Juanita rather wore out her-"hospitality". Ram and Ed and Jerry followed Dulce (who had used King Erectus), but Juanita's insatiable fires would not be extinguished. She rose to each occasion with unconcealed avidity and long after the rest of us had quit she still panted and fumed like an active volcano. It was simply pitiful. Even after we'd dressed (and had managed to get her into her clothes) and were drinking some "reviving" herb-tea, the distraught girl kept stroking herself and trembling violently. She scarcely noticed the rest of us.
"We can cure her of that," Ram commented.
"So your father has told us," I replied. "But might not such a cure make her cold ... or frigid?"
"Not in the least," he shook his head emphatically. "Caliente, here, had just such a sickness. And now she is just slightly more passionate than normal."
"Cure her, then, please!" Jerry intoned.
"Just how does this cure work?" Ed asked, squinting at Ram curiously.
"By causing sexual hallucinations," Ram answered. "She will have hallucinations that she is indulging in many forms of sexual union ... and these dreams are so continuous and so night marish that they will burn away her neurotic sexual quirks. The cure is similar to the one used for alcoholics, whereby the patient is forced to continue drinking long after he is sick and ready to stop."
"Cure me! Cure me, please!" Juanita cried out-and even as she pleaded for help she continued stroking herself-trying to scratch an itch that was impossible to relieve.
"If you don't mind ... I'd like to go through that treatment myself," Ed said, looking quickly at me. "I have sort of a ... problem."
"And so would I," I nodded. "How about you, Marie?"
"No thanks. I like the way I am ... don't you, Jerry?"
"Don't ask Jerry, Marie. There's nothing wrong with him."
"Oh! But you're implying that there is something wrong with me, eh?"
"Would you like to be like Juanita, Marie?" I asked her.
"No," she said, looking at the still inflamed girl. "No, of course not."
"Don't get mad now, but ... it seems to me you're headed that way."
"I agree with Susan, Marie," Ed put in.
"Well ... ," she shrugged, her eyes watering, "if I've gotten that bad ... I guess I'd better go along with the rest of you."
"It will be our pleasure to help you," Ram stated simply.
"You people are really beautiful!" Ed exclaimed. "What an ideal of life you have here. And you've educated yourselves, too."
"Not all of us," Ram corrected. "Some of us have been content to remain unenlightened. And who is to say that those who have are wrong? Dulce, here, has never read a word from a book, never left our village. Yet she is as happy, lighthearted and quick-witted as any of us. Perhaps more so. My father and I have both attended several fine universities ... but our contentedness is not as great as Dulce's."
"Your English is excellent," I observed.
"And I speak Spanish, French and four Mayan dialects," he shrugged, "but the knowledge I have gained has not, for example, made me enjoy a sexual experience one bit more than I would have without it. Less, is fact, because of the precious time consumed in the learning."
"This ... ah, herb-cure," Ed's brow was wrinkled in thought. "It seems to me I've read something about it somewhere...."
"No doubt you have," Ram nodded. "It's more or less world famous. Some years ago a group of scientists ran tests on our herbs. They became greatly excited over results ... until...."
"Until what?" Maria urged.
"Until they discovered that ... sometimes ... in certain persons ... the treatment can result in ... death."
"What? Count me out! That's one thing ole' Marie doesn't gamble with is her life!"
I looked at Ed, he shrugged and nodded; I nodded back and winked at him. We both looked at Juanita. We knew what we had to do....
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
We stayed the night with Ram, Dulce and Caliente, and a most pleasant and informative night it was. We talked until the wee hours, chatting about Mexico, its easy going ways and gracious people, comparing them with the tense avaricious majority in the States. And then, just as talk began to lag and everyone was beginning to yawn and sag a bit, a most extraordinary thing happened.
Caliente, who was sitting next to me, laid her hand lightly on my thigh; Dulce, who was sitting by Marie, did the same to her. I saw Marie's eyes open wide with surprise. I looked at Ed; he shrugged and grinned. I looked at Ram; he seemed not to even notice.
"I want you to stay here in my home during your visit. Caliente and Dulce will administer herb-tea to those of you who feel that the gain surpasses the risk."
"Just how much risk is there?" Ed asked him. Ram shrugged. "Very little. Most patients incur a short, violent nausea, and that's about it. But I felt I must warn you ... it can be fatal." Ever so slowly, with infinite patience, Caliente began to work my skirt up. I noticed that Dulce was doing the same to Marie. I stole a glance at Caliente; she smiled at me, and I could see that she was becoming excited: her pupils were dilated and her jaw was hanging slackly.
"When can we begin the treatment?" Ed asked.
"Anytime," Ram said. "Tomorrow would be fine. But in the morning, before we begin treatment, why don't you browse around the village a bit. Mingle with our people. Take a swim in the river. I'd like you to remember the Zacchis."
"Don't worry about that. We'll never forget this experience. And if ... the herbs do what you claim they will, we'll be eternally grateful."
"That is if you live to be grateful," Marie said-and her voice, due to Dulce's attentions, was low and throaty.
"You're not going to take the herbs then, eh, Marie?" Ed asked her.
"No thanks. I like life too much to risk it. I like ... this kind of thing too much," she sighed and, her dress quite high by then, parted her thighs.
Caliente had worked my own skirt as high as she could; like Marie, I parted my thighs.
"You have lovely, lovely legs!" she hissed in my ear; then, with a guttural moan, she slipped down to the floor in front of me.
"May I ... kiss you, Susan ... there?" she looked pleadingly up at me.
I nodded, too embarrassed and worked-up to trust my voice.
"Oh, damn! Damn! This is heaven'" Marie's slurred words told me that she too was receiving the baptismal rite of Dulce's "kiss."
I looked around at the others. Ram and Ed were conversing quietly; Jerry and Juanita had dozed off (and even in her sleep Juanita kept sporadically stroking herself, her face twitching weirdly).
I looked over at Marie then. She had slumped back in her seat and thrown her thighs up and over Dulce's shoulders. Dulce was moaning softly, her little breasts lobbing enticingly with her efforts (she reminded me of a hungry lamb nibbling choice tidbits through a barbed-wire fence).
Caliente's probing kiss soon had me writhing about in a very torment of joy! I felt like crying out, like unleashing the suffocating sounds that kept rising from my very bowels! But I didn't. I held myself in check. It was pure, untrammeled rapture, that kiss! I placed my hands on her vibrant head and closed my eyes.
"Oh, you lovely, hot-mouthed little bitch, you!" I heard Marie cry out. Then followed a conglomeration of snorting and muffled moans that told me that she was culminating ... and the thin, distant edge of my incipient event began to flutter like a spastic moth within my own lubricious machinery. On and on it came, gathering force and power with every pulsating stab! Until ... Eeeeeeee ... owww!" I ululated like a moonstruck coyote and crushed her to me with trembling thighs.
I lay back, panting, squirming, sighing, for a long while; then, opening my eyes and looking around, I saw that Caliente and Dulce had left the room and that Ed and Ram, their heads together, were still talking quietly.
We all rose late next morning-after a delicious night's sleep-and Ram offered to take us for a "swim before breakfast".
There must have been fifty villagers doing the same; I felt a pang of regret and envy as I heard their shouts of glee and laughter while they cavorted like children (and most of them weren't children). Their energy seemed boundless and I don't recall seeing a pensive or sad look on a single face.
The river was wide, deep and clear where we swam; the water felt cool and refreshing against my sleep-numbed flesh. Ed surprised me with his swimming and diving ability-the villagers, evidently never having concerned themselves with athletic prowess, watched him with interest and some astonishment. Jerry and Juanita contented themselves with splashing in the shallow water. Marie, who couldn't swim, waded out shoulder deep and stood there soaking and smiling. (Marie was your true sensualist-the needs of the body, whether food, sleep, sex or bathing-came first with her.)
But Ram had other ideas! Approaching me (I was standing breast deep, not far from Marie) he smiled and pulled me close to him. "Can't you ... pull that swimming-suit to one side?" he said. "Well ... I...."
"Yes, that's fine. Now I'll just . .
"Oh! Oh!" I looked around, my face turning scarlet in spite of the cool water.
"Feel good?" he smiled boyishly.
"Yes, but...."
"But what?"
"But all these people!"
"They don't mind ... if you don't."
"The custom, eh?"
"Yes. Delightful, isn't it?"
"Decidedly!"
"Have you ever done this before?"
"No. Not this way. Not before."
"But you will again?"
"I hope so," I sighed, beginning to respond to his slow movements. "It's marvelous. So ... so terribly pleasant and...."
"Different."
"Yes. Yes, different."
"Takes courage to be different."
"And imagination."
"True," he grinned. "And a certain amount of daring."
"Pull me tight, Ram."
"Like ... this?"
"Just ... like that."
"Am I high enough?"
"You're perfect. Divine."
"You're good, too. Do you realize that? I have had many ... hundreds. But you are ... smooth as silk ... small ... pliable ... alive ... lots of control. Do you love sex, Susan?"
"Yes. More than anything."
"We'll be ... I'll be ... sorry to see you leave."
"I don't ... feel like ... leaving right ... now. I ... feel like ... coming. Oh, oh, Ram! Ram, Ram, Ram! Ram me! Oh, yes! Hard!!"
And so it was that I took the most delightful "swim" of my life. (And I was glad to see that Ed, who had kept busy showing-off his swimming and diving techniques to the Zacchis, hadn't witnessed our little scene of submerged love.)
We informed our guide-the "pirate"-of our plans to stay another two days or so ... but we didn't tell him why. He accepted the news light-heartedly-he was staying with two lusty older women who, though quite fat, were probably giving him large doses of Zacchi "hospitality".
It was just past noon, and the village was quiet and serene (siesta time) when Ed, Juanita and I drank our first bitter cup of herb-tea; our treatment (cure?) was under way. Grande, the Zacchi Chief was with us, and Ram, Caliente and Dulce were full of quiet confidence as they supervised.
"You will never regret doing this," Caliente told us. "I was very unhappy the way I was before."
"And how were you before?" Ed asked her.
"I was becoming attached to women. And my needs would not be satisfied," she explained sim-ply.
Ed looked wistfully at me, then at Ram. "I have no problems being satisfied ... I'm normal enough that way. But ... I do occasionally feel an unnatural attraction for ... men."
"You will be easily cured, my son," Grande reassured him. "But you ... ," he narrowed his eyes and looked inquiringly at me, "why are you taking the herbs? Are you sure you need them?"
I shrugged and said, "Like Ed, here ... I've felt a bewildering tendency to drift towards my own sex. And I don't like it. Above all ... I want to have a full and normal sex life."
"I see," he nodded. "And I'm certain you'll achieve your ambition. Do you want marriage?"
"Yes, I think so. If I find I can qualify for the job."
"You'll qualify," Ram inserted.
Dulce and Caliente kept bringing us more and more of that nasty-tasting tea. By evening I felt weak as a kitten and my head was whirling giddily. I noticed that Juanita looked terribly pale, and that even Ed, despite his ruddy complexion, looked a bit green beneath the eyes. They led us to another room and told us to try to sleep; we laid side-by-side on grass-mats, and when finally I drifted off into a tossing fitful limbo I entered the terrain of an unholy dream-land where sex became the most horrendous nightmare conceivable.
Everywhere there was a purple haze, and I was lost in it and afraid. I could see (at first) ugly diaphanous creatures watching me from behind transparent trees; the ground beneath my bare feet was hot and steaming and I sought cool spots with the desperation of a barefoot child on hot sands. The atmosphere was thick with nefarious fumes and my panting lungs felt scorched and tainted as if painted with an acid-dipped sponge. My head whirled dizzily whenever I moved, and long slow waves of interminable nausea began to rack me.
Then, with the suddenness of an explosion, all the diaphanous creatures converged on me and bore me down threshing and struggling to the steaming ground. They were ghastly! Horrible! With round faces and bug eyes and fat, pendulous stomachs filled with broken and bulging varicose veins and ulcerous sores! One of the things kissed me; plunging its vermin-coated tongue in my mouth it shrieked in demented glee. Another one began biting me, and then, grinning and smacking its lips hideously, it licked up the blood from each gaping wound it had inflicted. The earth opened up beneath us then and we plunged, screaming eerily, through a vast and never-ending blackness. Falling, twisting, they were still at me, glued to me like human leeches, and I yearned ineffably to turn myself inside out to escape their hellish outrages.
Then suddenly they were gone; I was no longer falling. I was lying on the ground beneath a large tree. I was alone. All was quiet; the cryptic silence of the grave surrounded me and, yes, I heard the fast irregular beat of my own terrified heart. I tried to move, but couldn't. My arms and legs felt as if they were weighted with lead. I tried to cry out-but, though my mouth opened-not a sound could I utter. And then, immovable, mute that I was, I saw a massive water-rat close by me. He saw me. With a dreadful squeak he scurried over to me and, sniffing at my bare stomach (I was on my back) he mounted me, crawling over my paralyzed flesh like a grey scourge. Then, suddenly squeaking shrilly, he bit my naval-hard! Oh, how I wanted to scream! How I wanted to reach down and rid myself of that loathsome creature. He bit me again-lower. Again-lower. Until-with a great blinding flash that flicked lights off and on in my tormented brain
-I opened my eyes and looked up at the smiling face of Ram.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"You're fine, Susan. The worst is over for you." Ram's voice, after the hells I had been through, was like a soothing balm. I turned my head with an effort and saw Juanita beside me; she was groaning softly and her forehead was beaded in perspiration. Ed, on the other side of me, seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
I nodded, sighed heavily, and said, "I hope so," and then I drifted off to sleep again-a dreamless, peaceful unconsciousness. And when I woke again, feeling refreshed (though still somewhat light-headed), I saw that Juanita and Ed were awake too; they were sitting up, hungrily devouring fresh fruit.
"Welcome back," Ed smiled.
"Did you have horrible nightmares?" I asked him; sitting up slowly I reached for a piece of fruit.
"Impossible to describe," he nodded grimly.
"Oh, yes, they were awful," Juanita confirmed.
"How do you two feel?" I asked.
"Fine. About like always," Ed replied.
"Dizzy," Juanita added. "My head is swimming."
Ram walked in then and his face lit up with pleasure when he saw that we were all sitting up and eating. Then the Chief come in with Caliente, Dulce, Marie and Jerry.
"Have you told them what to expect now?" the Chief asked his son.
Ram shook his head, looked at us (a bit uneasily, I thought), and said, "For some time now you will undergo what we call ... withdrawal symptoms."
"Withdrawal symptoms?" Ed repeated. "What kind of withdrawal symptoms?"
The Chief spoke up. "The herbs burn away any neurotic or obsessive sexual habits. But every burning away naturally leaves some ash ... or residue. This ... residue ... almost always takes the form of a temporary relapse of the patient's problem. In your case ... ," he looked at each of us, "you will feel impossible to resist sexual desires ... many of them perverted."
"It only lasts for a short time, though," Ram added. "And when it leaves ... you will be permanently cured."
"How short a time?" Jerry asked him, glancing solicitously at Juanita .
"That depends?" Ram shrugged. "Usually anywhere from three to five days."
"When does it begin?" Ed asked. "I feel cool as a cucumber right now."
"That varies, too," Dulce put in.
"You'll know it when it comes!" Caliente spoke up. "Suddenly you'll want sex so badly you won't be able to resist. You'll lose all control."
"But that could be dangerous," I said.
"Not if you remain here," Ram replied. "We Zacchis have affected many such cures. We are able to deal with the situation ... ," he grinned and added, "we absorb it."
The Chief smiled at us and nodded wisely. "You are very fortunate. You have passed through a dangerous ordeal without harm. These withdrawal symptoms are nothing to be alarmed about. They will pass shortly and you will be as you want to be. So rejoice.. Fill yourselves with food. And take this last penalty of the flesh with pleasure, knowing that it is only a temporary thing."
"Pleasure is right!" Caliente smiled. "I well remember my own withdrawal symptoms ... never have I felt such intense pleasure."
"Sounds great!" Marie finally spoke up. "Maybe I should've drank that stuff too!"
The Chief and Ram turned and looked at her then ... and if ever a look could be described as "withering", the gaze they leveled on Marie would fit that description perfectly. Looking quickly at me, then back at their scornful eyes, Marie wilted; she seemed to draw into herself with what must have been an almost unendurable shame. I felt suddenly sorry for her ... like one feels sorry for a brat that one has just seen severely punished.
We laid around for two days-eating when we were hungry, napping when we were sleepy, talking the quiet contained talk that follows in the wake of an emotional upheaval. Then, on the morning of the third day, I awoke feeling definite signs of...."withdrawal symptoms". And later, while Ed, Jerry, Ram, Caliente, Dulce, Juanita, Marie and myself were breakfasting (the most delicious Spanish omelet I have ever eaten!), it became more and more evident that I wasn't the only one who was beginning to "feel" the symptoms. Ed had developed a sudden nervous tic in one cheek; Juanita had one hand under the table and was quite obviously attending to things.
Caliente looked at me and grinned. "You're getting it, aren't you?"
"I'm getting something!" I replied, resisting a sudden urge to reach beneath Rams loincloth. But as suddenly as it came, that urge vanished-and another "impossible-to-resist-urge" filled the gap. Reaching beneath the table, I pulled Juanita's hand away from herself and substituted my own; caressing her with three eager fingers I stirred the hot milk of her flower-petals into a warm creamy lather. Instantly she reached over and applied the same tactic to me-and the first touch of that dainty white hand sent shivers rippling up and down my spine!
Ed spoke up then-his voice nearly incoherent. "Ram ... I'd like to...."
"Go ahead, man," Ram nodded. "Give in, don't fight it. Use us ... use me."
As excited as I was, I couldn't help crying out with surprise when Ed rose and straight away kissed Ram passionately on the mouth. And Ram cooperated! Embracing Ed, he rose from the table and pulled him tightly to himself. Ed moaned, like a child in his sleep, and moved his lips around on Ram's open mouth feverishly.
"Hey! This is gonna be fun!" Marie's face was beaming as she leaned over and stuck her tongue in Caliente's ear.
Dulce rose then and, walking around to Jerry, sat in his lap and said, "No use in us being left out in the cold."
"I guess not," Jerry replied, and began kissing one of her blue-red nipples.
Caliente pushed back her chair and, lifting up her loincloth, said, "Want this, Marie?" And Marie's answer became (in a matter of seconds!) a kneeling, worshipful tangent of amative action!
Somewhat inspired, I rose and pulled Juanita to her feet. "Undress me, you hot little Mexican slut!" (That obscene epithet tumbled from my lips effortlessly, without thought and without shame.) I was wearing shorts and a Jersey blouse; she unbuttoned my blouse slowly, tauntingly, and as she slipped it off of me she bent and imparted one quick darting kiss to each of my nipples. I felt them crawl erect and, unable to stand it any longer, I unbuttoned my shorts myself and pulled them off quickly.
"Now you, Juanita! Off with your clothes. Hurry!" I felt a maddening itch down below and began to scratch it as I watched her disrobe. Moments later, completely nude, we melted together and our mouths met in a kiss that would have shamed the devil himself. And as we came up for air, and Juanita impulsively stooped and began lolling my navel with the tip of her wet tongue, I heard a commotion behind me. I twisted and looked.
It was Ed and Ram! Ed had undressed and Ram and he were standing face to face, with just the tips of them touching (I was reminded of old TV movies I had seen where two monsters stand nose to nose before going into battle). And Ram, a leather quirt in hand, was flicking his wrist sporadically so that the forked end of the quirt was lashing across Ed's buttocks. With each sustained blow Ed loosed a sort of whinnying snort of pleasure and his eyes batted flittingly. It was an uncomplicated scene-but, for some obscure reason, it excited me terribly! I shoved roughly down on Juanita's head, and she, unresistingly, took what I wanted her to take. Standing there, revelling in that stabbing Aphrodisiac kiss, I looked over at Marie and Caliente.
They were on the floor. And Caliente, with a King Erectus strapped on her, was giving the bottom's-up Marie something to really worship! Marie's eyes opened wide with every Caliente lunge, and Caliente's lovely features were twisted into a baroque leer that suggested sadistic glee. Marie, her face flat against the grass-mat, was reaching up and behind and was trying vainly to poke Caliente with a stabbing forefinger. I spread my legs wide, placed both hands on Juanita's anxious head, and looked to the side at Jerry and Dulce.
They were playing it strictly traditional; Jerry was astride and Dulce's firm thighs encircled his back in a clutching grip. Dulce's expression nearly made me laugh-her eyes kept crossing and uncrossing with Jerry's movements and her tongue-unbelievably long!-was protruding from the side of her mouth from between clenched teeth.
I began rolling my head in pre-orgasmic anguish then and, quite suddenly, I caught the miasmic effluvia of libation juices; redolent, pungent, acrid; the incense given up by the merging of cataclysmic passions! I groaned and, easing myself down to the floor, returned Juanita's action with a bobbing kiss of my own. And she whirled, ere I had begun, and dipped into my fevered sporran like a starving pickpocket dips into a fat open purse!
Two sexual omelets (vastly superior than the ones we had breakfasted on!) coalesced and became one effusive whole! Listening to the groaning, droning human (human)? cries around me, I felt myself slipping into a pleasant carnal quagmire, an ooze! Flesh-wrapped, ears pounding, throat scorching, sporran throbbing, I drifted off into that delicious never-never-land wherein the mind ceases to exist as an agent of control and reason and becomes an inundated libido-sponge. Lambent flames flickered across my buttocks and down and around my flexed flanks, and I heard, as if from some far distant anti-chamber of the glands, my soft throbbing explosions and implosions, their drum-beats tapping at the door of my brain.
It was all a delicious and delightful sensual repast! Every nook and cranny of lust's most esoteric back-country was explored and re-explored! The vague nexus of awareness that supported sanity was stretched beyond limits and the bodies inherent instinct for self-survival faded and dispersed, a diaspora of arcane and thoroughly dissolute lust! There was simply no avenue, no diabolical tangent of perversity that eluded the wake-centers of that indescribable passion! Sexplay was abandoned!-there was nothing of "play" in the frantic squirmings that that implemented debauch evoked! It was dead serious! A work performed because the flesh was left choiceless! Even the flowerings of orgasm became indefinite and took a back seat to the leaden river of desire that coursed through the veins! There was no beginning and no end!-only a feral and numbing middle-ground where cooperation and the exchange of endearing tit-for-tat's was nonexistent. But nature, "merciful nature", finally threw up her hands and quit.
I became aware, several eons later, that I was on my back and that even the thought of rising was repugnant, nauseating. I managed to turn my head and look around-and I saw Ed and Juanita lying in a stupor; Ed was gasping like a dying fish, and Juanita-bless her-had a broad smile of satisfaction on her lovely face. The others were gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Having sexual monkey on one's back isn't all pure delight, though. The exhaustion that followed each fresh outbreak of "withdrawal symptoms" was profound and decidedly unpleasant. One felt as if one's blood had thickened to gravy and the limbs became weary with an impossible to describe lassitude.
My memory is blurred as to the details of some of our "withdrawal symptom" antics. There were so many! But there is one interlude that is still fresh as the night it happened. Ed and I were out for a "cooling-off' walk through the village. We were walking hand-in-hand, temporarily relieved from the obdurate demands of our lusts. The night was balmy; there was a half-moon that seemed to enhance the sights and sounds of the surrounding jungle and the pungent odor of cooking-fires lent a comfortable domesticity to the village. It was one of those rare nights when the very air is sweeter to breathe and life seems well worth the living.
"Listen, what was that?" Ed tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me close.
"What? I didn't hear anything," I replied. We had turned off the main thoroughfare and were walking between huts towards the river.
"I was sure I heard Marie's voice. It seemed to come from that hut," he pointed towards the hut nearest us. "Come on, let's take a look," he added; drawing me along with him we crept to the open window.
"Good lord! What's she ... Ed clapped his hand over my mouth to silence me.
"Shhhh. Let's watch. This should be good," he whispered in my ear.
The light was poor in the room; a lantern on a table in the center was all there was. But it was sufficient to see what was going on. Marie was there. And four village girls ... very young ... were with her. Beside the lantern on the table was a King Erectus; the lantern light suffused its glistening surface with a soft yellow glow. One of the girls was chanting in a low voice; she was standing before the carving, evidently paying it some sort of ritual homage. The other three girls, and Marie, were standing in a line on the other side of the table. And all of them-including my secretarial chum-were stark naked.
Suddenly the girl who was chanting stopped. Reaching out with both hands she picked up the King Erectus and brought it reverently to her lips. Then she kissed its knobby end; her eyes were closed and her comely young features were wreathed in an expression that could only be described as devout. She brought it down then-still holding it in both hands-and rubbed its head against her. Then she lifted one foot to the top edge of the table and-"Ah-h-h-h!" she sighed tremulously, as King Erectus slid swiftly from view. She left him there for perhaps half a minute-then, "rescuing him", she handed him to one of the girls across the table.
The ritual was repeated: the kiss, the absorption, the "rescue". And when Marie's turn came she emulated the others to a tee.
"Some scene, eh?" Ed whispered.
"Yes, Marie's really taking to the village customs like a native," I replied.
"That box on the table ... I wonder what's in it. Notice how the girls keep staring at it?"
"I've been wondering about that myself," I said. "They look as if it frightens them."
Ed pulled me against him then and I could feel the rigid symptoms of "withdrawal symptoms".
"You, too?" I said, running my tongue in his ear.
"And how!" he breathed jerkily in my own ear. "Let's join their little party, Ed."
"Yes, let's!" he nodded.
"Marie!" I hissed loudly at her, and the girls jumped and grabbed each other, badly frightened.
"Relax, girls, relax," Marie told them, "it's only my friend."
"Ed's here too. Can we come in? Looks like you're having quite a party."
The girls all began to chatter at once; Marie interrupted them in her loud nasal voice.
"My friends. Can they join us?"
One of the girls, a bit older than the others, calmed them when they began chattering excitedly again. She said something to them in a low authoritative tone and they all nodded and smiled broadly. She nodded at Marie then and Marie said, "Yes, come in. But be prepared for something pretty weird."
Ed had his day then (or night!), and he later joked about what happened as the most ego-building experience of his life. Six women (four of them "nymphets") and one man! Simple arithmetic-but to Ed it amounted to the sum total of sexual felicity and bliss! Ed was turned into a human King Erectus, and the six of us worshipped at his rigid shrine to our heart's content! Supine, flat on his back, we formed a circle around him (that passed over him!). And as the circle turned ... each impassioned segment of it stopped for a brief "sit-down" on that fleshy shrine! Ed laid there, grinning from ear to ear, enjoying the variety that is truly the spice of life! (And in my "withdrawal symptom" condition there was no room at all for jealousy.)
And then my ego received a distinct boost when, "sitting there" on one of my turns, squirming in rapture, I felt the "shrine" erupt-like a spewing volcano love's lava inundated my boiling chemistry.
"Oh, Ed, you darling!" I cried. "You saved it for me!"
"No," he sighed, a while later, "it just happened that way ... you made it happen."
"Aw! You, then!" one of the girls, the older one, pointed at me and nodded.
"Me! What?" I said. "What does she mean, Marie?"
Marie shrugged and looked over at the box on the table. "I don't know. But my guess is they've chosen you to get it first."
"Get what first?"
"I don't know, really. But that's what this whole ceremony is about. They call it ... Culebrafc."
"Si, Culebra! Culebra!" the oldest girl cried excitedly; then, pointing at me first, she pointed over at the box and repeated "Culebra".
"I'm not sure, but I think that means snake," Ed said.
"Snake!" I exclaimed, feeling slivers of goose flesh ripple over me. "I'm scared to death of snakes! Come on Ed, let's get out of here," I headed for the door.
"No! Culebra asqueroso por usted!"
I looked at Ed, my heart beginning to pound. He shrugged and looked sort of queasy. "Something about the nasty filthy snake is for you," he said.
"Oh, no! No snakes around me. C'mon, Ed, let's go-"
"No!" the girl shouted angrily; then she came on hard and fast in Spanish for about half a minute, her eyes flashing like fire-flies.
"What was that all about?" I asked Ed.
Ed sighed and shook his head slowly. "She's mad as hell. Says my little ... deal with you was King Erectus' way of choosing you to be first in some snake ceremony. She claims it's an honor. Says it's harmless and that your refusal violates the Zacchi code. And she added that ... if you don't cooperate ... they'll make you."
"You'd better humor them,' Marie said. "Whatever it is they do, its obvious that they think it's real important."
"Okay, then," I shrugged. "Let's get it over with." I tried to smile at the girl as I nodded.
Her face lit up with pleasure. "Come," she beckoned. "Down, you lay," she pointed at the grass mat that Ed had had his fun on.
I eased down on it, wondering what was going to happen, wondering what part the snake that was evidently in that box played in the ritual. One of the girls knelt then and tied a piece of cloth around my head and over my eyes. Blindfolded, I strained my ears (and my imagination) trying to decipher what they were doing.
I heard a scraping sound no doubt the box being removed from the table). Then Marie's stifled, "Oh, lordie'" came to my ears. Ed coughed and cleared his throat uncomfortably; one of the girls loosed a hiss that sounded very much like fear; the soft patter of bare feet approached close to me, then:
"No, please!" I shouted clamping my thighs together tightly I reached up to tear off the blindfold. But no! Hands roughly jerked my arms over my head and pulled my legs apart, pinning them down solidly. I rolled my head in anguish and began showering them with the filthiest curses that my fear-inflamed mind could evoke! I sputtered! I fumed! I summoned forth every dirty Spanish word I knew-calling them whores and daughters of whores! And then ... feeling the most ecstatic and utterly rapturous feeling way up inside me ... I suddenly began undulating my hips and my curses changed abruptly to the snorting and moanings of sexual joy!
I felt the thing writhing to escape! And-how shall I describe it? I was revulsed to the point where revulsion turns back on itself and devours itself and leaves nothing but a titillating residue of Cyprian abandon. I surrendered. I gave in. One had to. The sensations imparted by that "Culebra" were irresistible and all consuming. Loathing and lust joined forces and sent vibrating chill-thrills pulsing through me! I loved it! I loathed it! I was in a frenzy of fear! I was in a frenzy of lasciviousness! My buttocks convulsed and deep deep deep dartings and writhings oiled my works to the point of gushing! And as the first faint throbs of orgasm increased and became mature, they removed the creature part way and then released it again-repeating the process several sensation-surpassing times! Someone bent and kissed me, and the tongue and smell and beard told me it was Ed, so I opened my mouth wide and received his tongue-revelling obscenely in the knowledge that two serpents were exploring me at once!
I left before the ritual was over; dragging Ed with me I hurried to the river where, submerging my steaming parts for over an hour, I cooled things and cleansed myself at the same time. Ed joined me, encircling me tenderly with his arms as I soaked. And later Marie came down-and it was obvious from the look on her face (like she'd bitten into a very sour lemon) that she too had been through the ceremony of Culebra.
"I'll take people," she remarked wryly as she splashed water over her perspiring face.
And then suddenly I felt very tired and very relaxed ... as if I had been on some long journey over the white-hot sands of a desert (a sexual desert) ... and now, at last, the journey's end was in sight. I hoped so at any rate. I was ready to go home. I was ready to make a genuine attempt to live a normal life. I put my arms around Ed's muscular back and sighed. I was ready to love. Could I?-I asked myself. "Yes," I said out loud.
"What, Susan?" Ed asked.
"Oh, nothing, Ed. I was thinking out loud."
"Let me in on it," he grinned.
"I intend to," I replied. And I kissed him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We left the Zacchis two days later. Grande, the Chief, and his son Ram bid us a fond goodby.
Ram was rather eloquent in his farewell speech. "The Zacchis will miss you. You have been gracious visitors. I hope you have learned from us as we have learned from you. It has been our pleasure to help you with our herbs ... please do not forget us ... always think of us kindly."
Caliente and Dulce seemed quite shaken at our departure; Dulce was in tears, and Caliente handed me a miniature carving of King Erectus.
"So that your memories will be pleasant," she smiled.
"It's too small to use," I heard Marie's comment in the background. (Dear Marie-always there with some obnoxious remark.)
The "pirate" started the outboard motor with a "zoom"-and we shoved off, waving at the two men and women on the bank (four very advanced and very fortunate human beings). Soon the dugout was wending its way through thick jungle again-and we were headed for San Bias and civilization. And I was happy ... but a little sad, too. I fondled my King Erectus affectionately.
We stayed in San Bias for a day and a night-eating lobster and steak again, getting a little tight during the evening. Then we left for Mazatlan, and the five hundred kilometer drive gave us time to reflect on what had happened to us and to talk about the future.
'What's next for you, Jerry?" Ed asked him.
"I'm not sure," he said. "Maybe I'll try a hitch in the Navy ... or maybe ship out on a merchant ship."
Juanita looked at him wistfully. Then, leaning against him, holding on to his arm, she said, "Why don't you stay in Hermosillo for awhile? My father will be overjoyed when he learns that my sickness has been cured. He will be happy to get you a good job and ... I don't want you to leave me, Jerry."
Jerry looked dumbfounded; his expression made us all laugh. "You mean ... you ... you want me to ... to...."
"I mean I want you, Jerry ... if you want me," Juanita's look was shy, contrite.
"Gosh, yes! I mean ... sure, who wouldn't want you?"
They put their heads together then and, for the next hour and a half, exchanged whispers.
"And you, Ed. I suppose you'll stay in Mazatlan and run your motel and restaurant," I said.
"No, I don't think so. I think I'll turn the business over to Pancho and ... head for the States."
"Not going to run any more, eh?" I smiled at him.
"No, I feel like an all American boy again ... real girl-oriented and ... perfectly normal."
"Me too," I replied. "It's a pretty good feeling, isn't it?"
Ed nodded. "It's a hell of a relief!" Then he looked at me (much like Juanita had looked at Jerry), and added, "Why don't we , , , be normal together, Susan?"
"You mean...?"
"Yes, Susan. I mean I'd like to marry you. I'd like to settle down and maybe raise a couple of kids. Maybe you think I'm a nut ... proposing to you in front of everybody like this, but...."
"No, I think you're wonderful, Ed," I interjected. "And I'd love to ... raise a couple of kids with you."
"Good lord!" Marie exclaimed. "If those herbs haven't gone and turned this trip into a Cupid's arrow! I'm glad I didn't take any ... at least I'm still sane."
I saw Marie's lip tremble as she said this, though, and I could tell that her words were only a hollow front. For all of her brashness and "hard-sell-sexiness" Marie was a lonely and sensitive woman; she longed for "normalcy" as much as anyone but some perverse quirk in her mental equipment prevented her from achieving it.
I was superbly exhilarated and happy! I sat close to Ed as he drove and, laying my hand on his leg, I was reassured to see (and feel!) that his built in King Erectus hadn't been stunted or made lazy by the herbs; he rose readily to attention and I felt his precious pulse beat against the palm of my hand.
We pulled into a hot, sleepy, fly-buzzing Mazatlan at 4:30 in the afternoon. And Ed, instead of driving straight to his motel, pulled into the down-town section where all the bars were. Parking in front of the bar he'd been to before (where he and Jerry had paid for the information about Raymond Salazar and Manuel Ortega), he got out and said, "Come on with me, Jerry. Let's just see if our two friends took my advice about leaving town. You girls wait in the car ... we'll only be a minute."
And they were only a minute! No sooner had they walked through the open door of the bar than we heard shouts and curses and a rumbling commotion. Then, only seconds later, Ed and Jerry came out again-but not alone! Ed had Raymond Salazar by the scruff of the neck and Jerry was pushing a very white faced and frightened Manuel Ortega along in front of him. Ed shoved Salazar against the front wall of the bar and said, "D' you know how we got away, Salazar. No? It was your half-pint friend there ... Ortega. He likes to play with shoes. So much in fact that he forgot about everything else ... including us."
"He'll kill me!" Ortega cried. "Give me a chance! Let me get out of town! You shouldn't've told him, you shouldn't've told him!" the little man cringed against the wall, looking at Salazar with a look of abysmal terror.
"Here, Salazar ... a little something to remember us by," Ed said. Crack! We were twenty feet or more away from them, but I heard the sickening sound of crunching bone and gristle as clearly as if I had delivered the blow myself. Salazar cried out once in pain, and then slid slowly and limply down the wall to the sidewalk; blood was gushing from what was once his inordinately handsome nose (but now it looked like a soggy, half-eaten do-nut). He wasn't unconscious; he sat there whimpering like a whipped pup and rolling his head in agony.
"Bring Ortega over here," Ed told Jerry. Jerry dragged him over.
"Here, Salazar," Ed said. "Here's your pal ... take care of him."
Salazar reached up and pulled Ortega down beside him, then, holding him tightly, he said, "Thanks, gringo. I will give him a shoe to play with ... I will kick his teeth out and...."
"Yes," Ed interrupted. "We'll leave that to you. Adios you crumbs."
We went to the motel then and Ed made arrangements with the pie-faced Pancho to manage everything for him. Pancho served us some of his excellent shrimp; we talked, joked and reminisced far into the night-cooling our throats with ice cold Cervesa Carta Blanca. It was very pleasant and we were all in a wonderful mood.
Marie got royally drunk and began to make passes at the nearly as drunk Pancho; soon both of them bade us an almost incoherent goodnight-and I saw Pancho lift a key from the keyboard as they staggered arm-in-arm out the door.
"A good pair," Jerry commented.
"Hmm, they just might be at that," I added.
We called it a night then-and as Jerry and Juanita took one room and Ed and I another across the way, I couldn't help but compare the present with the past.
"You look like you're deep in thought, Susan," Ed said, as he began to undress.
"I suppose I was," I acknowledged. "I was thinking about how things have changed ... comparing tonight with the last time we were here."
"Oh, and what have you decided?" he grinned. "I'll tell you in the morning," I grinned back at him. "Right now I fell like examining another problem ... ," I dropped my eyes to his pride, "a larger problem."
"Examine away, then," he replied. And so I did! And so I did!! And so I did!!! And when the sounds of traffic awakened me next morning I stretched and yawned and felt the most heavenly langour in my limbs imaginable. I felt clean and well-used and terribly, terribly serene. I nestled against Ed's naked warmth and felt the first genuine contentment I had felt in a long, long time.
We had breakfast late-and during the meal I received a surprise that both surprised and shocked me, when Marie, who seemed in unusually good spirits (she was usually a morning-grouch) suddenly made an announcement:
"Pancho has asked me to stay here and help him run the place. He wants to ... marry me ... and ... well ... I told him yes." She looked at me, my amazed look, and added: "Well, what the hell, why not? He's a nice enough guy ... he digs sex ... and it's time I settled down anyway."
"If that's what you want, Marie, good. Good for you. I wish you every happiness."
"Thanks ... I and then, loosing a choking sob, she threw her arms around me and broke into tears.
I held her-feeling a compassion and commiseration I hadn't felt for anybody or anything in years. It bade well for me (that feeling) and it bode well for Marie (her tears of shame and contrition ).
I had a long talk with Pancho later, asking him if he was certain that Marie was doing the best thing. He very humbly told me that he thought she was-and that he would do his best to take good care of her and make her happy.
"Just keep her well satisfied, Pancho," I told him. "That's what Marie needs most ... to be kept satisfied. Deep down she's a darned good woman, and the most generous person I've ever known."
We left in the middle of the afternoon. Marie, crying unashamedly, stood beside Pancho and waved at us. I waved back at her until she was out of sight. Then, blinking back tears of my own, I settled back in the seat and said, "We'll be seeing Marie again ... all of us ... I'm somehow sure of that."
"She's quite a gal," Ed nodded.
It was twilight when we pulled into the outskirts of Hermosillo, and though Juanita didn't say anything, I could feel her growing tenseness and apprehension. To return home to a strict father after having run off, and for the reason she had run off, took a great deal of resolve and courage. I consoled myself that we were bringing his daughter back to him whole again, a changed person ... a normal girl in love with a normal boy.
I directed Ed to the Alvarez hacienda, and as we pulled up in front and parked, Juanita said: "I have been thinking ... and I believe it would be better if you did not come in. My father is a very emotional man. It will take time for Jerry and myself to explain about my cure and ... oh, he will be so happy, Susan!"
She threw her arms around my neck then and kissed me unashamedly on the mouth, and then Ed, on the mouth. "I love you both. I'll never forget either of you. And ... oh, I know you'll be wondrously happy together!"
Jerry shook hands solemnly with Ed; Ed tousled his hair with his other hand and told him to take good care of Juanita. I pulled his smooth young face towards me and kissed him quickly. Everyone got all teary-eyed.
"Well," Ed cleared his throat gruffly and started the engine. "Adios, you two ... and good luck." And then we were off.
And in case you're wondering-Ed and I are very happy. We live in an unpretentious house in the Southern California hills. We haven't had time to raise those kids yet-though we've got one in escrow. And there is a small carved object of art that sits on a table in our bedroom. It reminds us of Mexico, and of many people and many things. But most of all it reminds us that we have a flesh and blood object of art ready and able to be enjoyed at any time. And ... as Marie would probably put it:
