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From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Breeders (8/9)  "The Breeders"
Date: Fri, 19 Apr 1996 08:05:06 -0700
Organization: Internet Online Services
Lines: 556
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Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:146998




Chapter 12

     "Tamarack," Carolyn enunciated as clearly as possible for the 
ticket agent.  "Tamarack, West Virginia.  It's just a little 
place, just below Charlestown about twenty or thirty miles."
     The ticket agent ran a stubby finger down the list of stops 
on his bus schedule, flipped over the page and ran down a second 
line of numbers.
     "Oh yeah, here it is.  Tamarack, West Virginia.  Well, if you 
take the next bus ‹ that's at 7:30 tomorrow morning ‹ you will get 
in there about 4:30 tomorrow afternoon.  It's not a regular stop, 
you understand, but the driver will let you off if you ask him 
to."
     "Isn't there a bus tonight?" Carolyn asked hopefully.  "I 
sure don't want to sit in the depot all night."
     "Sorry, lady," the fat little man answered, "only one bus 
going that way a'tall.  It's only a secondary highway, you know, 
t'ain't no highspeed toll road.  It's 7:30 tomorrow or nothing.  
Less you want to take the plane into Charlestown and then a bus 
out of there maybe?"
     "No," she frowned, "No, I'll wait for the bus.  Thank you 
anyway." "Yes ma'am."
     Carolyn turned abruptly and bumped into the man standing 
behind her, apologized without looking up, and went into the 
Ladies Lounge.
     A few minutes later, she pushed her way through the squeaking 
door of the women's room and walked slowly into the lobby of the 
half-deserted bus depot once more.  Well, it was going to be a 
long night.  She had better find a restaurant before she settled 
in for the night.  It had been hours since she had eaten ‹ not 
since early morning before Jason and the dogs and the opportunity 
for escape ‹ and she was feeling a little queasy in her stomach.  
She wondered fleetingly if it was from lack of food or the let 
down after her flight to freedom.  Whatever it was, she could sure 
do without it.  She walked over to the cigarette counter.  A tall 
attractive man in a business suit walked up beside her.  Together 
they waited for the clerk to finish the word on his crossword 
puzzle and notice them.
     "Oh," he finally realized he was not alone, "Can I help you, 
mister?"
     "The lady was first."  He smiled at Carolyn and touched his 
hat.  She smiled back.
     "I only wanted to ask if there was a restaurant near here 
that might be open this time of night?"  She was looking at the 
counter man but her mind was on the handsome stranger.  How 
pleasant to meet a man without a dog by his side, she thought 
bitterly, a man who isn't interested in your sex.
     "I was going to ask the same thing," the handsome man 
laughed.  He turned to the clerk and smiled.  "Maybe you should be 
selling sandwiches instead of cigarettes."
     "Matter o'fact I do," came his monotoned reply and he reached 
beneath the counter and came up with a pair of mangled sandwiches.  
"Lessee, I got one boloney with mustard and one salami 'n cheese.  
I make 'em up myself at home."
     The tall man looked at the sandwiches then at Carolyn and 
smiled as if they shared a big secret.  He put his hand on her 
elbow and turned her away from the counter.
     "I do thank you," he chuckled, "but what we really had in 
mind was something more along the order of a nice medium rare 
steak.  Isn't that right?"
     Carolyn was caught up in his ready smile and nodded in 
agreement. "Is there some place ...???"
     "Well now," the clerk sat back down on his stool and picked 
up the crossword puzzle, "There's always the Pickwick Hotel down 
the street if ya don't mind paying fancy hotel prices??"
     "Thank you."  He turned to Carolyn and guided her toward the 
door, his firm hand still on her arm.  "You will let me take you 
to dinner, won't you?  Somehow I can't envision a lovely girl like 
you eating salami and cheese."
     "Well, I really don't know ... I'm just waiting for my bus 
change," Carolyn was reluctant.  After all, he was an absolute 
stranger.
     "... and we haven't been properly introduced?"  He smiled. 
"Something like that," she smiled back.
     "It's really quite proper, you know," he said frowning with 
exaggerated concern.  "We've run into each other before." "We 
have?"
     "Of course!  Don't you remember ... you stepped on my toe at 
the ticket counter, Miss Tamarack West Virginia."
     "Oh, that was you.  I'm sorry.  I just didn't notice who it 
was." Carolyn laughed an apology.  "I really am sorry, you know."
     "If you're really sorry, then you must let me take you to 
dinner to prove it."
     "I'm afraid I don't look much like going out to dinner 
anywhere," she apologized.  "You see, I left ... where I was ... 
in rather a hurry and I didn't take time to pack a bag or 
anything.  This is all I have and, well, I don't look very 
presentable." "You look charming!"  He smiled down at her.
     Yes, he had noticed that she had no luggage.  That was why he 
had followed her to the counter, why he had invited her to dinner.  
This was a central transfer point for all major bus lines out of 
New York City. There were many pretty girls who arrived on the New 
York bus without luggage, down on their luck and usually pretty 
hungry.  Pretty girls who left their small home towns with stars 
in their eyes and their brags of success still ringing in their 
ears ... Pretty girls who came home eventually when all else 
failed, tired, hungry and broke.  But still pretty ...
     It was the desperate pretty girls who were easy prey for Paul 
J. Price.  "Just long enough to get enough money to go home in 
style." That's how he always put it to them.  "At a hundred 
dollars a night, honey, you can go home like a Queen!"
     Carolyn Vance didn't care about going home a queen.  She 
didn't even care about going home.  Tamarack, West Virginia, 
wasn't her home.  It was only a small town with a pretty name on a 
map.  She had done a childish thing ‹ closed her eyes and pointed 
blindly at a spot on a map.  And the spot had been Tamarack.  She 
had only wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, where no one knew her.  
She wanted to start over fresh and clean and smelling of Chantilly 
instead of dog.
     But most of all, Carolyn wanted to learn to make love to a 
man ... to many men, perhaps ... not to dogs.
     Mr. Paul J Price, for all his continental manner and 
experience, was surprised when the pretty girl he had met but 
moments before answered his proposition to become a high-priced 
prostitute with a simple chaste "all right."
     But then Mr. Price didn't know about dogs ...
     Or why it was so vitally important for her to know about men 
...

*    *    *

     "You're very generous," Carolyn smiled at the balding 
conventioneer, and tucked the folded bills into her bra.
     "Think nothing of it, honey, when Henry Pippen's in town, the 
sky's the limit!  How about a little nightcap, baby?"  His pudgy 
fingers poked at her ribs and Carolyn winced.  "We been having us 
a time for over an hour.  I'll just bet you could use a little 100 
proof courage.  Bet you don't run into many men my age who can 
keep a pretty young girl like you busy for an hour, huh?  Huh?"
     Carolyn smiled and lowered her eyes naively.  No, she thought 
and fought to keep from yawning openly, not many, not more than 
fifteen or twenty a week ... and most of them make love just as 
poorly as you.  She opened the door and leaned against the sill.
     "Not tonight, Mr. Pippen."  She declined as gracefully as 
possible. "I'm awfully tired.  Perhaps next time you're in town, 
hmmmm?"
     "Sure thing, little girl."  He reached into his inside coat 
pocket and handed her a business card.  "You ever get down my way 
now, you give me a call, ya hear?"
     Carolyn nodded and smiled ... and closed the door on him.  
She leaned her back against the door and sighed, slowly tearing 
the business card into small even pieces.  They fell to the floor 
in a flutter of white cardboard snow.
     Another dismal failure.  Her guts felt like they were spread 
out in a frying pan.  There was the same old burning sensation in 
her loins, it never seemed to go away any more.  She leaned her 
head back against the door and closed her eyes.  How many had it 
been?  Fifty, seventy-five?  A hundred?  At least.  A hundred male 
bodies had paid their money and poked at her with a hundred eager 
cocks.  A penis paradise for an insatiable female!  Only it wasn't 
paradise.  It was hell!  'Cause it never worked for her.  A 
hundred strangers pumped her full of semen and were satisfied ... 
and still she ached.  She had nearly three thousand dollars in the 
bank now.  It represented three months on her back and it was 
enough to put her back on her feet again.  She would tell him 
right now.
     Carolyn walked to the rumpled bed and sat down by the 
telephone. Slowly, carefully, she dialed the private number of 
Paul Price.  It rang, then rang a second time.
     "Hello, Price here," came the deep masculine tone. "It's me, 
Paul ... Carolyn."
     "Through already, doll?  Good!" his voice said he was 
pleased.  "I've got another bunch from the Convention that should 
be good for a real bundle, kid.  I'll send 'em up."
     "No," Carolyn said firmly.  "No, don't send them up.  I'm 
through, Paul.  I'm going home."
     "What'dya mean, kid?" He growled over the phone.  "You can't 
stand me up with a goddam Convention in town."
     "I'm not standing you up, Paul."  She was trying to be 
patient, but patience weighed a lot on your shoulders when you 
were dead tired.  "I told you when I started this thing that it 
was only for a little while.  I had to prove something to myself.  
Or maybe it was un-prove something. I'm not quite sure.  But I 
know when I've had enough.  I'm going home."
     "To Tamany or wherever it was?" he said with disgust.  "You 
won't be satisfied in a hick town, Carolyn, you won't even be able 
to have a good screw without the neighbors talking about it!  How 
you gonna satisfy that hot mouse of yours in a hick town like 
Tamany?"
     "Tamarack," Carolyn said, "And I don't expect to satisfy it, 
if its any business of yours.  I haven't been satisfied in months!  
Not once in months!  I'm sick and tired of coming up with somebody 
else's kicks, Paul. I'm getting out.  I'll leave your money in an 
envelope with the clerk downstairs ... and I'm catching the next 
bus out.  Good bye, Paul."
     She laid the phone back in the cradle quickly before she 
could hear his crackling objections.  It was over and done with.  
She would call the bus depot and find out when the next bus went 
to Tamarack.  She ran her fingers across her aching stomach, 
scratched gently in the tangled mass of curls and massaged the 
hungry button in her wet crotch.  She wondered fleetingly how the 
dogs were.  Had they gotten safely away?  Was someone taking care 
of them, exercising them, enjoying them?  Eyes closed, she worried 
the needy flesh of her loins and remembered how it had felt to 
have one of the big Danes between her legs ... his thick rough 
tongue rubbing life into her, endlessly, tirelessly, until she 
couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed his harness and pulled 
him hard into her kneading hole where he would hump her into 
orgasm after orgasm ... and leave her weak and satisfied.  
Satisfied.  Oh god, how she wished she could be satisfied that way 
again!  How she would sleep!
     The brassy ring of the telephone shattered her memories.
     She reached over for the phone listlessly, sighed and 
answered its impatient jangle.  "Hello?"
     "Don't hang up, kid.  I just want to talk to you a minute." 
"What is it, Paul?" she sighed into the phone.
     "Answer me honestly now.  I've done alright by you, haven't 
I, kid? I did what I said I'd do for you I sent you lots of guys, 
clean guys, guys with money to pay the tab.  Right?" "Yes."
     "Then how about doing me fair?  How about turning just one 
more trick tonight, kid?  Just one more before you leave.  I'm in 
a real bind.  I promised these guys a real looker ... and you know 
how the word gets around.  If I don't come up with something 
special, the word will get out that I don't have a good stable and 
it'll kill me for the rest of the conventions this year.  Maybe 
even next year.  How about it, kid?  Come on, huh?  Please?"
     Carolyn took the phone down from her ear, stared into the 
mouthpiece as if she could see Paul J. Price with his feigned hurt 
look, and shook her head.  She returned the receiver to her ear in 
time to hear the last of his impassioned plea. "... won't ask you 
again, I promise!"
     She sighed.  What was one more, really?  It didn't matter.
     "Alright, Paul.  One more.  One more and I'll hold you to 
your word."
     "Thanks, kid," she could hear the relief in his voice.  "I'll 
tell 'em to come on over.  Five minutes okay?  Fifteen?"
     "Make it fifteen, I need a shower," and then she remembered 
his exact words 'tell them to come over' ... "aaaa ... wait a 
minute ... did you say 'them'?"
     "Yeah ... aaa ... that's what I said.  You know how 
Conventioneers are?  Ha, ha, anything for a laugh?"
     "What's with the 'them' business?" she pinned him down.
     "Well, you know how it is.  I got a call for a little group 
action. Three guys is all it is, just three.  Probably reading a 
dirty book between meetings and it gave 'em ideas.  They want to 
gang-bang a pretty girl.  You know, watch each other do it to her.  
Nothing to it, kid.  Just lay there and collect three times the 
fee."
     Carolyn listened to his playdown of the facts.  She smiled to 
herself.  Paul was scared she wasn't going to go along with the 
gang bit. Let him worry, damn him, would do him good.
     "Oh, I don't know about that ..." she purposely let her voice 
trail off.  Let him sweat.
     Three at a time.  It might be fun.  It had been fun with the 
dogs! Hot, hotter and begging!  She ran her finger across the 
little button box again and felt its answering twinge.  Maybe 
that's why she hadn't made it with all those men in the past three 
months.  Because they didn't last as long as the dogs.  Maybe that 
was the trouble.  Three men working her one after the other, or 
even all at once, might turn the trick.  She had always had at 
least three, maybe four dogs in each training session and by the 
last one she was hotter than french fried nuts.  She smiled 
wishfully. Never say die.  She'd give it one more chance.
     "Come on, baby?"  Paul was still pleading on the phone.  
"They're real nice Joes, good looking too.  Why, you'll have a 
real blast.  How about it, kid?"
     "Welllll, alright, Paul ... but just for you."  She purred at 
him, then made a face into the phone.  "And just this one last 
time.  You understand that part of it." "Sure, kid, sure."  He 
agreed readily.  "Any thing you say.  I'll send 'em over in about 
fifteen minutes, okay?"
     "Okay."  She agreed.  "... and Paul ... goodbye!"
     "So long, kid.  Have fun in your hick town.  Screw all those 
farmer boys silly."
     Carolyn replaced the telephone on the cradle.  He just didn't 
understand.  No one understood.  And what was worse, she couldn't 
explain it.  Not even to herself.  How do you explain to a 
civilized socialized square-cornered world that you can only seem 
to cum under a dog?  You don't!  Your guts ache and you grit your 
teeth and pretend it doesn't matter ... while the rest of the 
world screw themselves sideways with their fellow man.
     Carolyn got up slowly and straightened up the bed, smoothing 
the sheets and plumping up the pillows.  She took the folded bills 
from her bra and tucked them under the pile of lacy brassieres in 
the second drawer, then hurried into the little bathroom and 
turned on the shower. After the last rollicking romeo who graced 
her bed, she really needed a hot shower.  Henry Pippen could sweat 
like a pig.  She tucked her long hair into the shower cap and 
stepped in.  Hmmmmmm, it felt good.



Chapter 13

     Ten minutes later, a pretty young girl was stretched out on 
the bed on her stomach casually flipping the pages of Glamour 
magazine.  She was shaved, showered and foo-foo'd ... and bare ass 
naked.  It always got things off to a fast start when a customer 
walked into a room smelling of faintly sexy perfume and found a 
nude woman already on the bed. Psychological, perhaps, but it was 
like 'instant hard-on' and it always worked.  Especially if her 
clothes were hung up out of sight and the room was free of clutter 
and coverings.  Just a big wall-to-wall bed ... and a bare body in 
the middle of it.  Good business.  A guy was hard put to get his 
pants off before the size of his dong got stuck in the zipper.  It 
was a subtle production line technique.  It netted her nearly 
twice the profit in a night as her fellow workers who opened the 
door chastely wrapped in a robe.  After all, she was in it for 
profit, not pleasure.  She smiled to herself and chewed her lower 
lip thoughtfully.  Tonight, perhaps, there would be a little 
pleasure too.  She sure hoped so.  It had been so long. She turned 
a page, then another and another, and then she saw it.  The 
magazine advertisement ... 'some people do everything in a big 
way' it said ... a lovely blonde girl stood before the big new 
model Cadillac, one hand on the car door, the other resting on the 
shoulder saddle of a huge harlequin Dane  ... 'big dog, big car, 
big savings' it said in great glaring print 'why not have the very 
best?' Carolyn looked at the ad with a look of gentle longing.  It 
was a magnificent animal, a truly fine male.
     When the soft knock sounded at her hotel room door, the voice 
from within brought raised eyebrows and learing smiles to the 
faces of the three men who stood there.
     "Come in ..." a honeyed voice purred from within, "Come innnn 
... the door's open."
     There was a fumbling at the knob and three tall rather 
embarrassed looking faces peered down at her naked body on the 
bed.  Languidly, Carolyn rolled over on her back and looked 
straight up into three pair of surprised wide eyes, one knee bent 
and waving gently over her body.  She waited till they closed the 
door.
     "Hellloooo," she whispered hoarsely up at them.
     "Aaa ... aaa ... hello."  One of the men stammered "Aaa ... 
I'm Bill ... and that's Harry ... and that's, that's???  What's 
his name?" he whispered to Harry.
     "Hello whats-his-name!" Carolyn looked up at him with 
deliberately wide innocent eyes.  It was hard not to smile when 
the man gulped noisily and nodded his head. "Aaa ... what can we 
call you?" the first man said.
     Carolyn turned her head to stare up into his red face.
     "You can call me ... in time for seconds ... all around!"  
She purred in the much practiced professional voice which had put 
$3,000 in the bank for her in the past months.  She stretched 
luxuriously, spreading her naked body into a wide ivory-bodies X 
upon the deep red bedspread. "Jesus!" someone said reverently.
     Carolyn crooked her finger suggestively at the nearest man, 
the tall older man they referred to as Harry, and patted the bed 
beside her.
     "Aren't you sort of uncomfortable with all those clothes on 
... Harry???" she purred again.  "I'll just bet you all look 
better without them."
     She let her eyes roam between the three men, starting on 
their surprised faces and sliding suggestively down over their 
padded shoulders to the virtuously zipped flies of their dark blue 
suits, pausing a moment to stare at the growing bulges, to purse 
her full lips and lick them with her tongue.  Slowly.  The men 
seemed frozen to the floor.  Good grief, she thought, real country 
bumpkins.  She'd take care of that.  She stretched once more, then 
let one hand slide down over her flat stomach and play with the 
dark curls of her crotch.
     "I wish you'd all hurrrry ..."  she sighed and let her middle 
finger slide in and out between the hairy lips.
     Clothes began to fly.  She heard the sound of one, no two, 
buttons ripped from the cloth and rattle across the floor.  She 
watched the spider-veined arms appear out of shirt sleeves, flabby 
muscles shake in their hurry, skinny legs and knobby knees, fat 
soft stomachs and hairy flopping balls.  Carolyn watched without 
expression. They were a far cry from the lean hard-muscled animals 
with their sleek well-groomed coats and their bright honest eyes.  
Suddenly she was surrounded by white sunless buttocks and grasping 
hands, and she closed her eyes and opened her mouth to the slack 
lips and probing cigar-tasting tongues.
     "Beautiful tits," she heard a voice say and felt a squeezing 
hand and a hot wet mouth.
     "Hey, d'ja see this?  She shaves!" and a callused working 
man's hand rubbed hard across the inner lips of her tender flesh.  
"She's got hair out where it shows ... and she shaves between her 
legs!  Isn't that a crazy idea?"
     "You know what that means, don't ya?"  Another male voice 
chuckled in response.  "That means she's one of the ones that 
likes it all the way. You know, french!" "You mean she likes to 
... to ..."
     "Yeah, ya dumb bastard.  She'll even let ya eat it!" "Jesus!"
     Carolyn felt the hot breath on her legs first.  Even with her 
eyes closed, she could follow his faltering progress on his virgin 
trip into the interior.  He was on his knees at the end of the 
bed, she could tell, and he had very gently pressed her legs apart 
and was poking experimentally at the parted lips.  She 
deliberately snapped them at him, and was instantly rewarded by a 
gasp as he sucked in his breath.  She felt the hot breath come 
closer and closer.  Spreading her legs as far as her position 
would allow, she waited for the wonderful feel of a warm tongue 
between her legs.  There was a light brush of his lips and he 
pulled away. What in the hell, she thought, oh please don't let 
him quit already.  She moaned softly and wriggled her hips 
invitingly.  There was no other way to ask for it, one of the men 
had buried his thick tongue in her mouth and the other was licking 
all over her breasts.  Her arms were pinned beneath them.  She 
couldn't say anything or reach out and pull his face between her 
legs.  She wriggled the hairy little hole again.
     There was a harsh groan from the vicinity of her parted legs 
and the feel of his five o'clock shadow rubbing hard against the 
tender flesh. His short stiff tongue made quick exploring stabs 
into her hole.  Ohhhh it did feel good.  Not so good as the long 
hot thick tongues of the Danes who used to lick her from anus to 
button.  But it felt good.
     She began to suck on the probing tongue in her mouth.  It 
tasted of stale tobacco and bourbon but it was stiff and it was 
eager and responded instantly to her sucking invitation.  It 
buried itself deeper into her welcoming mouth, making crude wet 
sounds as he gasped occasionally for air, groaning when she sucked 
hard and moved her puckered mouth up and down over it like a 
working penis in her feathery hole.
     The man at her breasts had stopped kissing them and was 
watching his friend's extended tongue screwing in and out of the 
prostitute's sucking mouth.  God, it made him hot!  He looked down 
at the man between her open legs and watched him bury his face in 
her wet crotch and come up damp and shiny from her hot cunt.  
Jesus!  Jesus!  Jesus!  He never knew anything like this went on.  
Leastwise he never took part in it before ... or watched it right 
before his eyes.  His own hot cock was throbbing so he thought it 
would burst.  He wanted to shove it in her paid-for pussy but it 
was full of mouth.  His friend's stiff tongue was still screwing 
the other end.  God.  He was gonna bust, sure as billy hell.  He 
looked desperately at her rolling body, and the big breasts which 
rolled and pitched with their own full weight.  Suddenly he raised 
up to his knees and straddled her body, burying his aching rod 
between the fat breasts, holding them tight together with his 
hands and began to thrust into them. The head of his fat penis 
peered out the other side of her compressed boobs and pointed 
straight at her face.  In and out it went, back and forth between 
the firm heavy globes.  It wasn't wet like a woman's cunt but it 
was exciting.  Exciting.  He watched the man's tongue still 
pummeling her mouth, watched her cheeks suck in and pull at it.  
He watched the man's swinging prick as it rocked between his 
knees.  He turned his head as far as he could and saw that the 
pussy eater had raised to his knees and was skinning back his hard 
cock ready to throw it to her.
     She knew it had begun.  After a hundred cocks in heat, she 
knew all the symptoms.  She could feel the jarring rhythm of the 
man squatting over her breasts and the leaking warning that spewed 
forth in small droplets on her white skin.  It was too late for 
him to stop now, he would spill out his sperm and waste it ... and 
she had not begun to cum.
     Now the man at her thighs began the regular pumping which 
meant the beginning of the end.  So soon?  She cried silently.  
Not so soon!  She began a frantic thrusting of her own heated 
pelvis.  Maybe she could make it before it was too late ... but 
the desperate heaving of her body against his was like a fuse to 
his ramming penis and he came in short, jabbing, jerking 
movements, filling her with the evidence of his own satisfaction 
but leaving her brimful of need.  No, she thought.  No!  No! No! 
She tried to pull her mouth away from the hot tongue of the 
excited man who kneeled beside her.  He thought she was trying to 
get away from him because she was nearing the point of orgasm  ... 
and he had done this to a professional prostitute with only his 
tongue.  How exciting!  Too exciting, he felt the beginning rush 
of hot semen in his dangling balls, racing up the heavy vein 
beneath his short fat penis and there it was, jerking its wet 
wonders out on to the girl's arm pinned between his legs and on 
the red bedspread.  Christ, he thought, what a waste of money. 
He'd have to pay the broad fifty bucks each for the three of them 
and all he got was a bedspread fuck while she frenched his tongue.  
Damn bitch probably did it on purpose.  She probably got him hot 
so he'd do it that way and she wouldn't have to clean up 
afterwards.  Christ.  Fifty bucks apiece.  He looked at his friend 
and saw his sperm running in slow trails across the woman's chest.  
He'd got screwed out of any cunt too.  The other guy, whats-his-
name from Charing, Oklahoma, was squatting over her hairy twat, 
and looking sorta embarrassed and silly about it.  Well, maybe he 
got a little tail but that was probably only cause she was so busy 
fuckin' the two of them out of their just desserts.  Christ, he 
repeated out loud, Christ.
     He eased back off the girl's arm, careful not to smear up his 
own legs with the cum that wet the spread.  He looked down at her 
in disgust. She lay still, breathing hard, her face turned to the 
wall.  She looked almost like she might be ready to cry or 
something.  What'd she have to bawl about?  He was the one who got 
screwed out of a hundred and fifty bucks cold cash.  He could'a 
jacked off on the John and still had the hundred and fifty.  
Christ.  He pulled his pants on and zipped up his fly angrily.
     "Come on, you guys.  Stick it back in your pants and let's 
get the hell out of this clip joint."  He grumbled and watched the 
two men raise organs on the edge of the spread.  He looked at his 
watch and shook his head.  "Not quite twenty minutes.  Can you 
imagine that?  Not even twenty minutes and this fuckin' broad 
makes a hundred and fifty bucks for just laying there and making 
us do all the work.  That's Atlantic City for ya. Next year I'm 
gonna insist they hold it in Hoboken like we said.  Christ."
     He pulled three fifty dollar bills from his money clip and 
slammed them on the bare dresser top.
     "There ya are, chippy.  A hundred and fifty smackeroos and 
you got three good screws to boot.  What a racket!" he pulled open 
the door. "Come on, let's get the hell out of here.  Why waste any 
more time on her?"
     Carolyn didn't move.  She didn't open her eyes or move away 
from the thick white puddles of semen that ran down her sides and 
made wet spots on the dark red spread.  It had happened again.  
Nothing.  Nothing.  Three normal men had paid to have sex with her 
and she should have been excited and she should have cum and she 
should have ... should have ... she should have gone home to 
Tamarack on the early bus like she planned to do.  It wasn't any 
use.  It was her.  There was something wrong with her.
     She raised up and sat on the edge of the bed and her eyes 
fell upon the open magazine lying on the floor a few feet beyond 
where one of the men had thrown it.  It was still open to the 
advertisement for the big new Cadillac Convertible ... and the 
picture of the big harlequin Dane. Carolyn stared at the picture 
for several minutes.  A single tear welled in her eye, slipped 
over the brim and made a wet train down over her tender tit with 
its teeth marks and blood burns.

*    *    *

     "Where'd you say you lived, Miss?" the man behind the long 
counter asked curiously.  "The old Martindale place?"
     "Yes, I believe that was the name the real estate man said 
would be on the escrow papers, Martindale or something like that."  
She smiled up at him.
     "Hmmmm," he shook his head dubiously.  "Kind of a lonely old 
place for a pretty young lady like you, seems to me."
     Carolyn smiled tolerantly.  Tamarack was a friendly town, and 
a curious one as well, but then most small towns were.  It was all 
part of being friendly.
     "Will that be cash or check, Miss?" he asked when no further 
information was forthcoming. "Cash."  Carolyn answered quietly, 
counting out the bills.  "Four, five, six hundred dollars and  ... 
what did you say was the tax?  Three dollars? Six hundred and 
three dollars.  There you are.  You can just mail the pedigrees to 
me when they're ready."
     She picked up the two heavy choke chain collars and walked 
over to the viewing runs.
     "Oh, we'll have them delivered to you, Miss.  Just - as soon 
as the Missus gets back from Charlestown with the big station 
wagon."  The kennel man said anxiously.  "They're pretty big 
animals, even if they are pups. Must weigh all of eighty, maybe 
even a hundred pounds each!  You just don't know how big them 
Great Danes get, little lady.  You couldn't handle them all by 
yourself." Carolyn smiled.
     "I forgot to tell you, Mr. Norris," she smiled up at him.  
"I'm a professional dog trainer.  I have a great deal of ... of 
experience ... with Great Danes."
     "You?" the kennel man said incredulously, "A pretty little 
thing like you train Great Danes???" Carolyn nodded.
     "But ... but you're so small and delicate like," he 
stammered, finding it hard to believe, "Aren't you afraid of 
them?"
     "Mr. Norris," Carolyn smiled a little sadly, "I'd be afraid 
to try and get along without them."
     She walked back to the runs, slipped the gate hasp and swung 
it wide open.  As the first playful pup jostled his way through 
the opening, Carolyn slid the heavy choke chain about his neck and 
pulled him down firmly on his haunches.  He looked up at her with 
surprise.  She walked up close before him, pressed his massive 
head against her legs and scratched him behind the ears.
     "Good boy.  Sit!  Sit!"  She smiled down at the inquisitive 
big eyes and pressed his head hard against her legs again.  He 
sniffed, and let his head remain against her tight capri pants.  
"Good boy.  I think I'll call you Monarch."
     Holding Monarch's chain securely in one hand, she moved to 
the other run and released the gate catch.  A moment later, 
another huge beast rested against her leg and lowered his head 
between her legs to have his ears scratched.
     "Samson," she said slowly.  "You are built like a Samson,