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Chapter 12
By the time Frankie and Cynthia arrived at Shoo-Fly's apartment for
the party, it was well after midnight and fifteen or twenty people were
already there, with more arriving as the hours went by and the
musicians, strippers and other night people had finished their jobs.
Cynthia had attended Shoo-Fly's parties before and knew basically
what to expect. She was certain that there would be plenty of
marijuana, assorted other drugs if you wanted them and plenty of people
ready to indulge in sex if you were in the mood. His apartment was
luxuriously furnished for whatever your whim may be and he reveled in
the fact that he could supply the surroundings as well as the drugs for
his growing circle of friends. Although he was slightly condescending
at times, everyone was more amused by his antics than anything else. He
was always good for a loan with no questions asked, and periodically
gave wonderful parties.
Even though he preferred men to women, often saying that the only
good thing about females was that half the time they gave birth to
males, he never tried to molest men after they had once given him a
definite brush-off. He would just shrug his shoulders and say, "Well,
no hard feelings, but do come around to all my parties and bring a girl
friend," and then with a laugh, "and any of their old boy friends for
me!"
There was usually some new innovation at his parties, and this
time, as he opened the door for them, they smelled the scent of fresh
perfume, so strong that it was detectable even through the sweet,
pungent smell of the marijuana.
"Frankie ... Cynthia," he cried. "Come on in. This is going to be
a real ball!"
Shoo-Fly was dressed in a deep purple smoking jacket, white ruffled
shirt, lavender string tie, a black sash cinching his waist tightly and
lavender slacks. He looked like an advertisement for expensive sin, and
Cynthia wondered bow he could see through his dark glasses in the dimly
lit room. He continually wore dark glasses and she had always wondered
why until one night when she was sitting next to him she noticed that
his eyes were grossly over-sized and bulged out wetly like a startled
fish. She had shivered with distaste and wondered if he kept them on
even while making love!
She wrinkled her nose, sniffing the air as he helped them off with
their coats.
"I recognize the pot, Shoo-Fly, but what's the other? Incense?"
He looked at her frowning slightly, "Cynthia dear, you know we had
incense last time and that I always have something new. Come with me
and see!"
He waved them ahead of him through the hall and into the living
room, gesturing with a hand carved pipe with a foot long stem and tiny
bowl that he had made especially for him in North Africa for his
marijuana and hashish.
The living room was almost thirty feet long, the tall windows
heavily draped in red velvet and the floor was covered with a thick
Turkish rug. Low chairs and couches were scattered about the room and
several dozen large square pillows lay in disarray on the floor. The
room was almost completely dark and she had difficulty making out any of
the faces that were silhouetted from the indirect lighting. The room
was thick with smoke, but she could still smell the sickeningly sweet
odor that permeated the room.
"No flowers ... no incense ... well?" she asked.
Shoo-Fly laughed heartily and said, "Perfume! Perfume on all the
light bulbs!"
Frankie glanced at her, amused, as if to say, "God, what a freak!"
and steered her to one of the large pillows on the floor.
"What'll you have," Shoo-Fly asked, gazing admiringly at Frankie.
"Not you, at any rate," Frankie replied laughing, and helped
himself to a couple of joints.
"Hey, you two," someone yelled at them as they were lighting up
their cigarettes. It was Al and Torchy sprawled out casually on one of
the couches in the back of the room.
More guests kept arriving and soon the room was full of people all
talking, smoking until they were all high, laughing at almost anything
and a warm feeling of contentment and peace stole over her. She was
leaning back, her head resting on Al's knees as she listened to the talk
that floated through the air. She closed her eyes, her face relaxed,
giving the appearance that she was sleeping, but she was aware of
everything they were saying.
Her mind was so engrossed in the conversations that were going on
around her that she didn't feel Frankie slip away from her side and make
his way back to the bar at the other side of the room.
He walked cautiously, exaggerating each step as he stepped between
and over couples that were lying on the floor.
"Hey, look at Frankie taking those seven foot steps," someone
yelled, and she opened her eyes and watched him weave his way toward a
group of their friends who were mostly junkies at the far end of the
room. They looked dull and listless, as though they were having a
horrible time, but she knew that they were actually in a state of
complete pleasure as she had seen them earlier in the kitchen, boiling
and injecting heroin.
Music floated through the room, deep throaty sounds of a jazz
singer belting out the blues and everyone seemed to be in a half-
lethargic state.
She felt Al stroke her hair, running his fingers down the nape of
her neck, massaging, caressing.
"Let's go on back to the other room," he whispered in her ear.
"Torchy's hot to go too."
Just the thought of the room at the back of the apartment made a
tight knot of desire swirl in her stomach. He helped her to her feet
and pulled Torchy up and the three of them stood there for a moment
clutching at each other for balance, laughing loudly, Al reached over
and slid Cynthia's low-cut blouse off one shoulder so that it lay in a
curve, half-revealing the soft swell of her full, ripe breast.
"A preview of coming attractions," he said.
They walked delicately between the chairs and pillows, stumbling
over a few legs and finally reached the door to the hall.
They overheard Shoo-Fly arguing with his newest "Mistress" and
chuckled at the ridiculous sounds.
It seemed ridiculous to them to hear two men fighting like a
husband and wife and they couldn't stifle their laughs.
"Just a little domestic quarrel," Shoo-Fly volunteered when he saw
them standing there taking in what they were saying.
"I see you are about to enter my special little den of iniquity,"
he continued, pulling his own lover by the arm and steering him into the
room along with the other three.
"Wait a minute," Cynthia said, "Where's Frankie?"
"Relax, sweet," Shoo-Fly said, "He's already in there making it
with, if I do say so myself, with a delectable little redhead!"
A pang of jealousy passed like a cold steel blade through her
stomach, but only for a moment. She couldn't bear the thought of his
making love to someone else even though she had made love to many
different men during their relationship.
They had joined in group orgies where they had both been partners
to other people and she had gotten some sort of a vicarious thrill
seeing him saw in and out of another woman, but the fact that he had
gone off by himself without letting her know was a different story, and
she wasn't sure that she could take it.
They walked down the hall and opened the door to a smaller room,
painted in red and black, which was so cluttered with clothes that it
looked rather like a bargain basement. The smell of the marijuana
filled the room and every now and then you could hear groans of pain and
delight come from various section of the room. They undressed quickly
and looked around for an empty spot on the floor. Cynthia tried to find
Frankie amidst the tangled, writhing bodies that were making love in
pairs, threes and other assorted groups, but her eyes had not yet become
accustomed to the darkness so it was impossible to tell where he was.
There seemed to be more people than there actually were, for the
ceiling was low and covered with a mirror, affording a clear, exotic
view of everyone in the room to anyone who was lying on his back,
smoking or resting.
The room was completely void of any furniture except for an
occasional throw rug in black or white that was carelessly lain on the
black mattress that covered the entire room.
Shoo-Fly and his friend made their way across the room trying not
to disturb any of the sensually entwined bodies and situated themselves
in one comer, away from the mass.
Torchy, moaning softly, her long, black hair falling half-way down
her back, made a rush towards a group of three, two men and a woman, who
were making love on the other side of the room. She dropped down beside
them, and without saying a word, began caressing and kissing the nearest
body to her, not caring whether it was a man or a woman!
Cynthia sat down on one of the rugs and lit another joint, puffing
lazily, letting the smoke circle her head like a mushroom cloud and
propped her head up with one hand. Al dropped to the floor beside her,
hesitating for just a moment to see if she would voice any objection.
She liked to smoke and relax before actively joining into any of the
activities. She found that watching the others make love stimulated her
own desires and aroused her to such a degree that she was a solid mass
of nerve-ends, electrifying waves of passion shooting through her whole
body.
When her eyes became a bit more accustomed to the darkness she
tried to find Frankie among the assorted groups of bodies that were
sprawled here and there, but it was impossible.
She lay completely back and looked up at the ceiling, and there he
was, reflected in the mirror, also lying flat on his back, his arms and
legs spread out at 45 degree angles, the redhead bending over him,
running her fingers and tongue over his body.
She watched fascinated as she took another deep drag on her
cigarette, and she could feel a tightening in her stomach as she could
not take her eyes off this strange woman making love to her man! She
twisted her body slightly as the redhead's mouth closed around Frankie's
erect penis and she began sucking noisily, greedily, like a starved
woman. She could see him raise his hips, trying to force more of his
manhood into her eager, moist mouth, his own mouth opening and closing
with short, hot gasps as she mouthed his hard phallus. Cynthia was so
caught up in what was going on that she barely noticed Al's hands begin
to run over the full, smooth curve of her breasts and begin to massage
the soft, supple flesh between his fingers, pinching at the nipples
until they stood up erectly, proudly.
"Aaaaggghhhh," she moaned softly, wriggling her body underneath his
touch, but not taking her eyes away from the spectacle she was viewing
on the ceiling mirror. She could feel the desire building up in her own
body, wanting, needing, but completely oblivious to whomever it was
creating this desperate urge. Al rolled his body over so that he lay
pressed tightly against the length of her body and she could feel the
beat from his erect, thick penis as it jerked against her hip.
Casually, she let one of her hands close around his thick, throbbing
staff and massaged it gently, pulling the foreskin back and forth over
the hardened pole of flesh.
Frankie looked as though he were about to climax when the redhead
stopped her voracious mouthing and moved up his body until her legs were
straddling his hips and she lowered herself onto his long, thick penis.
She saw his mouth open in a gasp as she bucked up and down on his body,
pounding her hips against his then pulling up so that only the head of
his penis was buried in her vagina. He was twisting underneath her,
grabbing at the flesh of her hips in an effort to hold her down on him
so that she couldn't pull away. She knew from her experience with him
that he was close to his orgasm, that he would not be able to hold off
much longer. This thought brought the tight feeling between her own
legs to a breaking point. Al was running his hands over every inch of
her flesh, kneading it, massaging, making it tingle with an aching
desire. Her grip on his penis tightened, squeezing it harshly until he
moaned in pain. He pulled at her body until they lay face to face and
she could no longer see what was happening between Frankie and the other
woman, but at this moment she didn't care. She knew that Frankie would
be spent in a few moments, and she was just beginning to build to her
own climax.
Al's fingers dug into the soft fleshiness of her buttocks, pulling
the cheeks gently apart until she could feel the thickness of one finger
search out the tiny, elastic hole of her rectum. She ground her hips
into his, feeling the length and hardness of his penis slide moistly,
hotly between her tightly clenched thighs. His finger inched its way
into the tiny passage of her anus, impaling her, holding her skewered
like an apple on a stick. She reached down between their legs and
guided his jerking penis to her other channel and tried to ease her hips
up slightly in order to give him better leverage.
"There ... there ... that's it," she moaned softly as she felt the
giant prick slowly work its way into her hot, moist channel, the walls
of her vagina closing around it like a smooth, fleshy blanket. The pain
of his roughness at her backside subsided as she wiggled up and down on
his prick, her fingernails digging harshly into his back, scratching at
the hard, muscular flesh. She could feel the flood of her orgasm about
to spill and she pushed down roughly on his cock, until she could feel
its entire length filling her right up to her belly.
"Aaaggggghhh ... yes ... now," she gasped as her vaginal walls
began a rapid contraction around his thick, pulsing manhood.
"Now!" was all she could muster through the narcotic haze that hung
over her mind, Her words and her passionate grabbing brought him to the
brink of his own satisfaction, and as she ground out her climax he felt
the boiling of his sperm as it shot deep into her waiting, aching
vagina.
"Yes ... yes ... I'm cumming ... I'm cumming too ..." he groaned,
feeling the contractions and the jerking inside her until his penis went
limp and flaccid and slid out of her, semen still oozing from the head.
They collapsed next to each other, not looking at each other,
because it didn't really matter who it was that had satisfied them, not
caring about anything except that they were satisfied.
When she opened her eyes and looked up into the mirror, the others
were lying, as worn-out as she, except for Shoo-Fly and his partner who
were still queering each other and he still had his dark glasses on!
Chapter 13
She glanced over and saw that Frankie and the redhead were lying
side by side on the other rug, taking drags from the same joint. She
knew that he had not even noticed her presence in the room, he had been
too involved with his new lover. She wanted to go over to them, but she
knew that this would only anger him, so she got up slowly and walked out
to the kitchen.
In the hallway she ran into Carla, an older woman who had been a
successful stripper at one time, but the years of late hours, too much
booze and dope had taken their toll and she was haggard and emaciated.
"You look a little frazzled, kid. Just been back in Shoo-Fly's joy
room?" she asked.
Cynthia nodded. "I no sooner get satisfied in one way that I'm
hungry in another!"
They laughed and walked in to the kitchen where there was a buffet
set to feed about one hundred people.
"Pot sure makes me famished," she said, helping herself to a
sandwich.
"When are you going to try the "real" thing," Carla asked.
"Try what?" she replied.
"Heroin ... horse," she said, "Come on. I'll fix you up. It's
really the greatest!"
Cynthia hesitated, not really sure whether or not she should get
involved with something as strong as that. She had heard what it could
lead to, but she needed something to make her feel better.
"How do you take it," she asked naively.
"You can sniff it, but a shot's the best," Carla replied. "Come
on, I'll show you."
Carla took her by the arm and led her into a small room off the
kitchen where several people were standing around watching another young
man sterilize needles and boil the white powdery substance and pour it
into a syringe.
Carla took a small capsule of heroin out of her pocket, opened it
and sprinkled the white powder on a mirror, dividing it into several
portions. She handed the mirror with a minute amount of powder on it to
Cynthia.
"Here," she said. "Stop up one nostril and sniff this stuff with
the other."
Cynthia reluctantly took the mirror into her hand, balancing it
carefully.
"I understand that it can make you sick the first time," she said,
still not sure whether or not she should try it.
"Sometimes it does," Carla continued, "but after that you're riding
high. You have to start sometime!"
She bent over the mirror, following Carla's instructions and
sniffed the loose heroin.
"Now, the other nostril," Carla said. She obeyed, taking the
powder deep into her nose. It tickled her nostrils and she felt like
she wanted to sneeze, but resisted the impulse.
She raised her head slightly and then it bit her. A wave of nausea
flooded her whole body. She felt warm, dizzy and weak, totally unable
to fight the sickening feeling that was taking over her body and her
mind. She braced herself on the small table where the others were
waiting for their portions and staggered unaided over to the sink and
threw up. When she felt as though the very lining of her stomach was in
her throat she sat down and put her head between her knees, hoping that
the nausea would pass. She sat there for several minutes letting the
quivering feeling pass and then she felt high, light and wonderfully
happy. She lay on the cool linoleum floor for a while and then slowly
got up and wandered as though in a trance into the living room and
dropped down on a cushion.
She could hear the conversations going on around her, but she took
no notice of them. She was completely content to be alone with her
thoughts and feeling of supreme bliss. Time ceased to exist and she had
no idea how many hours had passed when she finally went to sleep.
She woke up when someone shook her shoulder. She groaned and
looked up to see Al standing over saying, "Come on, time to go home."
"For God's sake, Al, I'll go home when Frankie does," she said.
"He's already gone," he said, pulling her up by the shoulders.
"What," she moaned, "when?"
"He left several hours ago with that chick," he said. "Come on,
I'll take you home."
Cynthia looked at him, disbelief in her eyes. Frankie had never
left her before and gone off with another woman when she was around.
Pangs of jealousy twisted inside her and for a moment she was afraid she
would be sick again.
Feeling numb, she silently followed Al and waited while he found
their coats. Although there were still quite a few people scattered
throughout the apartment, Shoo-Fly was nowhere in sight.
It was just beginning to get light when they walked outside into
the cold winter weather. The sharpness of the wind against her face
woke her up completely as they walked down the street trying to find a
taxi. The buoyancy and happiness of being high had vanished and she
felt depressed and extremely tired. Perhaps Frankie would be home, she
thought, but when Al left her at her door and she went in, only silence
and the stale odor of tobacco greeted her. She went from one room to
the other, hoping that she would find him sleeping somewhere, but she
saw nothing. Feeling more depressed and wondering when and if Frankie
would be back, she drew the blinds against the morning sun and went to
bed.
She was awakened late that afternoon by the ringing of the
telephone and Al's voice saying that he wanted to tell her something,
but he preferred not to discuss it over the phone and asking her to meet
him at the "960" Club. She asked if it were about Frankie because he
had not returned as yet, but he said no. She dressed quickly, grabbed a
bite to eat and ran out to find a taxi. When she walked into the Club,
Al had not yet arrived, so she went backstage after asking the bartender
to tell Al where she was.
There was hardly anyone backstage and the door of Torchy's dressing
room was closed. She knocked once and then opened it. Torchy wasn't
there, but Gypsy was! They were both equally startled at seeing each
other so they just stood there staring for a moment without moving or
speaking. Gypsy was sitting on a chair, her heavy thighs crossed, one
hand holding a cigarette, arrested in mid-air.
Recovering first, Cynthia said, "I thought Torchy was here," and
she started back out the door.
Gypsy jumped up and said, "Wait!" She swayed slightly and sat down
heavily. "Now that you're here, sit down."
She looked at her warily. Either Gypsy was high or roaring drunk,
but judging from the smell of gin in the room it was probably the
latter.
She walked into the room and closed the door, standing with her
back against it.
"Well, what do you want?" she said coldly.
"My dear pal Cynthia ... so nice to see you again. So
inexperienced, so sweet, who has no eyes for Frankie," she laughed,
loudly and drunkenly.
"Okay, cut it out, I'm leaving," she replied as she put her hand on
the knob.
"No ... wait," Gypsy's loud, crazy laugh ended in a series of
hiccoughs. "Stay awhile."
Cynthia remained motionless, staring at her with disgust, not
knowing whether she should leave or stay and take the chance of being
insulted further.
"Here, have a drink." Gypsy leaned over, reaching for the bottle,
and almost fell off the chair.
Cynthia shook her head, "No thanks," she said brusquely.
"Aw, come on honey," Gypsy continued, "after all, we've got
something in common to drink to."
"We have absolutely nothing in common!" she replied.
"Well, at least pour me a slug," Gypsy stammered, "The damn bottle
keeps moving around."
Cynthia walked over, splashed some gin in a glass and handed it to
Gypsy. "Here," she said as Gypsy reached out to take it with a shaking
hand. Seeing her close up, Cynthia noticed that she looked ten years
older, the skin on her face was pasty white and deeply lined; her hair
which had once been an electric red was now limp and dull. She began to
feel a little sorry for her.
"Look Gypsy, don't you think it's about time you went home? I'll
get one of the boys to take you ..."
"Don't tell me what to do," she interrupted angrily, looking up at
her with lifeless and bloodshot eyes.
"Have it your own way, then. Good-bye!" she said as she started
for the door.
"I'm waiting for Frankie to take me home," she said with a smug
smile on her face.
"Don't be stupid," Cynthia retorted, "Frankie wouldn't drive you to
a dog fight."
"That's all you know about it, dearie," Gypsy said, glancing up at
her haughtily.
"What do you mean by that," she said.
"Just what I said. You aren't as smart as you think you are."
"Meaning what?"
Gypsy said nothing but continued to look up at Cynthia, a self-
assured, nasty grin on her face. Finally she said, "What's the matter?
Afraid Frankie will leave you?" She saw Cynthia flush and laughed
again, saying, "Or has he already?"
"You filthy bitch," Cynthia blurted out angrily.
Gypsy's face became cold and hard as she screamed, "Don't call me a
filthy bitch. I can still take any man away from you, you pig, and
especially Frankie. I know how I can do it!"
Cynthia stepped closer, her face still flushed, but now with anger.
"Okay, Gypsy," she said. "I've heard the dirty lies you've been
spreading and your stupid threats, and if you rat on him I'll tear you
to pieces. So keep away from him, you understand me?"
Gypsy rose from her chair, trying to keep her balance. "You're
telling me to keep away from him?" she screamed. "After what you've
done, you stinkin' bitch, after you ..." she raised her arm and splashed
the gin at Cynthia.
The liquor hit her in the face and ran down the front of her coat.
She stepped back in surprise trying to wipe the stinging liquid from her
eyes at the same time. When she blinked in an effort to clear her
vision, Gypsy leaped at her, catching her off balance and she fell to
the floor, Gypsy on top of her scratching at her face and pulling her
hair like a crazy woman.
The door burst open, banged against the wall and Al and the
stagehand rushed in. They managed to pull the girls apart and Cynthia
leaned against Al, panting and gasping. Gypsy squirmed wildly in the
other man's arms, trying to get back at Cynthia. It was only when he
slapped her sharply on the face that she quieted down and then burst
into tears.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Al said and steered her rapidly
out the door. They left by the rear exit and stopped in the alleyway
until she could recover her breath and her composure. They walked out
to the sidewalk and down the street to another bar.
With a couple of scotches lying warmly in her stomach, she soon
felt better and asked why he had called her. "And if it's anything
about Gypsy, I don't want to hear it. I've had enough of her for one
evening!"
He looked at her solemnly and said, "No, it's about Harris."
"Conrad?" She looked at him completely Surprised. "What about
him?"
"Nothing much, really. Just a rumor I've heard. I still see a lot
of my old newspaper pals and they told me about it."
"What, for heaven's sake?" she inquired anxiously.
"Well, it's really more than a rumor. To be exact, Bob knows the
guy and says he's already started on it."
"Al," she said impatiently, "Will you please stop mumbling and tell
me what's going on?"
"There's this guy named Joe Flanagan on the 'Evening Star.'
According to Bob, he's a young squirt of a cub reporter who doesn't know
his ass from his ear, however, but he got the bright idea if he did a
big expose on his own and presented it to his editor, all written and
nicely tied up with a red ribbon, he'd be the fair-haired boy."
"Expose?" she said.
"Yeah. Expose of Harris. And you know as well as I do that
there's enough dirt to be dredged up about Harris and his crooked deals,
in and out of politics, to raise one hell of a stink."
"But would they publish it? After all, Conrad's a big guy in
town."
"Yeah, they might. Stan Morgan, the editor, would never dare order
an investigation himself or it'd be his neck, but the trouble is their
circulation has fallen lower than a stripper's morals and if he were
presented with the stuff all wrapped up, he might just print it. After
all, once the stuff was out, the public would probably get so aroused
they'd demand a full investigation, and if Harris was convicted, Morgan
would be riding high and so would his circulation."
"Yeah, I see. Not very nice, is it?"
"Thought you might want to tip Harris off. Not that I have any
great love for the bastard, but after all, you'd be dragged in for your
share of publicity too as his number one girlfriend"
She looked at him startled. This aspect of it hadn't occurred to
her.
"My God," she said, "I hadn't thought of that. I'll call him right
away." She got up from the table and went back to the telephone booth
and didn't return for five minutes.
"He's getting ready to go out," she said, "but I told him it was
important so he said for me to come right over."
"Good, and take it easy, kid," he said, winking at her.
"What's the guy's name again?"
"Joe Flanagan, on the Evening Star."
"Got it. Thanks a lot, Al."
She picked up her gloves, kissed him lightly on the cheek and left.
Chapter 14
She hailed a cab and gave Conrad's address. Her heart was pounding
so fast that she thought that it would come right through her chest.
She wondered how he would take the news that he was about to be exposed
by some punk newspaper cub, yet she was afraid at the same time. Conrad
was not an easy man to get along with from a business standpoint. She
knew that he had people taken care of when they had caused him the
slightest problem, and she couldn't help but feel responsible for almost
signing this Joe Flanagan's death certificate.
She had almost forgotten that she was upset with Frankie, that he
hadn't come home and that he was with another woman. The situation with
Conrad was utmost in her mind and she was trembling as she paid the cab
fare and raced up the stairs to Conrad's apartment.
He greeted her at the door and held her close for a moment.
"What's the big rush. What's so important. Here, sit down, you're
shaking."
He walked to the bar and poured her a drink and handed it to her.
He was dressed only in a silk robe and she could see his strong
muscular, hairy legs as he crossed the room. The robe came apart
slightly and she stared at his loose hung genitals as he sat down next
to her on the couch.
She took a big gulp of her drink, cleared her throat and began to
repeat the story as Al had told her.
"I don't know what they have already, but it doesn't look good and
I thought that you might like to know."
"A young punk, eh?" he almost spit out. "Doesn't that just take
the cake."
She just looked at him, not knowing whether she should say anything
else, afraid of what he would say next.
"Well, love, I can't thank you enough. Looks like your daddy
Conrad will have to have him cut down to size. I wonder who's been
spilling the beans to him and how much he's paying for it."
He reached across the back of the couch and pulled her to him, his
hand grabbing roughly at the warm, soft fullness of her breast. She
fell against him weakly, opening her legs slightly so that he could
reach under her skirt and begin to fondle the soft flesh of her inner
thigh as his fingers searched for the elastic of her panties.
His robe had fallen completely apart and his massive organ was
jutting up from between his legs like a long distended pole. Her eyes
watched fascinated, as it jerked up and down as it grew more swollen
with desire. She smiled to herself as she felt his fingers reach the
juncture between her legs and begin to rub the tiny hardness of her
clitoris.
"Take off your clothes," he whispered huskily. "I like to watch
you while you undress, you're so beautiful."
Obediently she pulled herself away from his grip and slowly began
to strut in front of him, unbuttoning her dress as she walked.
She watched him as his eyes devoured her every move and she knew
that he was getting more and more excited with each piece of clothing
she removed. She undulated her hips at him so that her pelvis rotated
provocatively just in front of his face. His hands reached behind her
and pulled her roughly toward him, his mouth and tongue nibbling and
licking at her pelvis through the sheer silk of her panties. Her hands
unhooked the elastic of her brassiere and she let it fall to the floor
as her breasts hung full and free, her nipples pinkish-brown and erect.
"Oh God, you're so beautiful," he moaned, as he tugged at her thin
panties until they fell below her knees and she was clothed in only her
silk stockings and thin, tight garter belt. She ground her hips into
his face as he licked and bit gently at her vaginal lips and bud of her
clitoris.
"Oooooohhhhhh baby," she whispered. "Do it to me. You're so
good."
She looked down and could see that his massive penis had grown to
monumental size and was bobbing up wildly in anticipation of taking her.
He pulled her down onto the couch and ripped the taut stockings
from her legs so that she lay completely bare and vulnerable to his
demanding touch. He covered her breast with his mouth and began sucking
noisily at the plump mountain of her bosom, biting gently at the stiff,
erect nipple.
"Aaagggggghhhhh," she moaned, twisting her hips under him so that
she could feel the iron hardness of his cock as it dug into her thigh.
"Do it now," she begged, being caught up in a flood of desire, the
tightness between her legs aching her.
"Not so fast," he whispered, "I want you to beg me for it. Come
on, beg your daddy."
"Yes ... please ..." she gasped, but she knew that he would not
give in to her so easily. He got much more out of it when he made her
wait for him to enter her and she knew that he would not deny himself
this pleasure.
Her hands reached down between them and squeezed the giant
stiffness of his prick, kneading it back and forth in her hand. She
could feel the skin slide back and forth over the bulging head of his
penis and she knew that it must be purple from lust by now.
His hands continued to search and massage every inch of her soft,
supple skin, pinching cruelly every once and awhile so that she cried
out in pain. His fingers found the crevice between the soft roundness
of her buttocks and he inserted one finger deep into the tiny, puckered
anus with one harsh stab.
"Aaagggggggghhhhh, ooohhhhhhh," she gasped, trying to buck her hips
forward to avoid the cruel impalement, but he held her fast.
"You want me to fuck you," he gasped in her ear. "Want me to fuck
you now?"
"Yes ... oh yes ... yes ..." she barely whispered, trying to adjust
to the painful intrusion on her buttocks.
She pushed her hips into him, pulling her thighs back towards her
body as his hands continued their stimulation of her back passage.
Finally she could feel the rock hard stiffness of his prick as he angled
himself up on her body and his organ prodded at the opening of her
vagina. She gave a little gasping moan as he rammed the full length of
his throbbing penis into her. There was nothing left of her at all but
the enormous well which itched and burned, contracted and seethed around
his monstrous cock as he sawed in and out of her.
He was pummeling into her with rapid, staccato strength, gasping
continuously with each in-stroke, and her legs moved around, rubbing on
his thighs as she squeezed in and fell away. Her hips seemed to have a
will of their own, writhing around against his as the weight and
solidity within her seemed to grow bigger and bigger.
"Oh yes ... fuck me ... fuck me good," she gasped, her breath hot
and rapid.
There was a swirling in her loins which made her strain and strain
against him, begging him to fill her, invade every inch of her body.
The swirling grew, causing a whirlpool of passion that was about to
drain every inch of strength from her body and leave her limp. She
couldn't stop her wild contortions as he plundered into her, the length
of his huge, pulsing cock filling her completely until she thought he
would come out her throat. She knew that she was on the brink of her
orgasm and she dug her nails into the hard flesh of his back, trying to
pull him in even deeper into her aching well. Her body began to shudder
with a violent trembling as she began to jerk out her own climax as he
plunged down deeper into her throbbing orifice.
"I'm cumming ... I'm cumming ..." she moaned, "fuck me harder
darling ... now ... NOW!"
She relaxed slightly after her climax, her legs still twitching
with excitement, but in a half stupor while he continued to ravage her
in growing excitement.
She was pleasurably aware of his moans, his furious thrusts, the
way he clutched at her buttocks, pulling her up on his cock while he
plundered into her. She gasped as his stiff, monstrous rod pushed in
for a moment even further than before, sending a streak of pain through
her belly. She knew that he was about to reach his own climax and she
could feel his huge, erect prick swelling and jerking inside her as the
warm liquid of his sperm spilled deep into her belly.
He stretched out on top of her, panting for some time while she
just lay there, completely immobile, sated and exhausted.
He rolled off her at last and lay looking up at the ceiling. She
didn't move, she didn't have the energy to move, her legs still spread-
eagled, aching and damp, the sperm running down the inner part of her
legs.
"You're such a good lover," she finally whispered. "I don't know
what I'd do without you, daddy."
He leaned over her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "You're
the most beautiful after we make love," he said, his hands tickling her
lightly.
He got up and put on his robe and walked to the bathroom. She
wondered why it was that men could make love and then get up and just
walk away as if they had just eaten a good meal. She lay there not
wanting to move, wanting to fall asleep, but she knew that she would
have to leave.
She followed him into the bathroom watching him as he showered and
prepared to go out.
"What are you going to do about this Flanagan character, love," she
asked.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," he answered.
"Haven't I always taken care of these things? Nothing's going to happen
to your old daddy, everything's going to be all right."
"Don't do anything that you don't have to," she said weakly,
knowing that he would catch her inference.
"That should not concern you. I don't want to have to get rough if
I don't have to, but I've got to stop him, so you just leave it all up
to me."
She washed herself quickly and got dressed and waited for him in
the living room.
In a few minutes he joined her and handed her one hundred dollars.
"That's for being such a good girl. Go buy yourself something nice
with it. Its just a little extra that I'm sure you can use."
She nodded, taking the money and folding it into her purse.
"Thank you, darling," she said and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"Be sure to let me know what's going to happen and what's going on when
you find out. Remember, this affects me too."
She wasn't sure that she should have let him know that she was
concerned about the part she may play in this expose, but he didn't seem
to be offended at her selfish thought so she let it go at that.
"I'll call you later in the week," he called down the hall to her
as she got onto the elevator and disappeared.
Chapter 15
She went outside and hailed a cab knowing that she had to go back
to the apartment she shared with Frankie. Her heart was beating wildly
as she stood outside the door, feeling she couldn't bear it if he
weren't there, or hadn't even left a note for her. She put the key in
the lock and with a trembling hand, pushed the door open.
She peeked inside as though she were almost afraid that he might be
there but with that redhead. He must have heard her open the door for
when she walked inside he reached out and held her close. She fell into
his arms and burst into tears of relief and joy.
He held her close, his face beaming, his eyes dark and shining.
"I've been waiting for you for days, you beautiful bitch you, and
then I heard the key in the lock and ..."
"Oh Frankie," she sniffed, "I do love you so." He gave her a
little shake and said, "Where in hell have you been? I've been worried
sick and no one had heard a word from you."
"I waited for you last night, looked for you today but no one had
seen you. I even checked at the 960 Club, but no one knew where you
were since you left the party."
She tried to explain where she had been and what Al had told her,
but tears kept pouring down her cheeks.
"I wanted to stay away, forget about you, but I knew that I
couldn't stay away, so I'm back ... back for good," she stammered.
"You damn well better be," he said tenderly.
"But what about the eight hundred dollars, the money that Conrad
has been giving me and I spent on clothes?"
"To hell with the eight hundred dollars!" he grinned at her
mischievously. "But if you ever do it again, I'll whale the skin off
your bones!" He tousled her thick hair. "And what about my redhead?"
They looked at each other with complete understanding and laughed
together. Hand in hand they walked right through the living room and
into the bedroom, wordlessly stripped off their clothes and clutching
each other like drowning people, fell on the bed and made love as though
they were doing it together for the first time, and would never be able
to do it again. Like one person their bodies rose and fell, twisted and
turned. They were like two people who have attained that often sought
for but seldom achieved state of complete understanding on the nonverbal
level, where each intuitively knew when, where and what the other
wanted. Coupled together, murmuring words only of love and
understanding, they made love for hours, rapturously, blissfully,
pausing only to snuggle peacefully in each other's arms, resting briefly
before they began again.
She turned on her side, extending her smooth, rounded buttocks back
towards him, reaching behind him and pulling his hips towards her own.
His hands ran tenderly over her body, caressing gently while she moaned
softly under his touch. His hands rested on the softly protruding flesh
of her abdomen then traveled slowly to the hard, undulating bulge of her
pubis.
Exploring, he found the hard little clitoris which he manipulated
until she was a raging storm beneath his caress.
"Wonderful darling, oh yes ..." she murmured almost indistinctly.
With her writhings his throbbing penis moved to the tiny slit of
her vagina and prodded steadily at the small orifice. She reached down
and searched for his hardened manhood, grasping it squeezing it for a
moment and guiding it gently into her waiting aperture.
Still caressing her clitoris with his hand, he drove into her
aching vagina, feeling the warmness of the vaginal walls as they closed
around his throbbing, erect organ. He entered her forcefully with a
sensation of hot relief mingled with a passion which drew his lips apart
in a little gasp.
As he thrust he felt the tensing of her buttocks as she pressed in
close to him. He let his other hand caress the soft, full roundness of
her breasts, pinching nimbly at the erect nipples. He felt that his
loins were a mass of tangled nerve ends as he pushed deeper and deeper
into her vaginal passage.
"Darling, oh yes ... yes ..." she moaned, wiggling frantically
alongside of him trying to force him deeper and deeper into her womb.
"I'll kneel," she whispered. "That way you can go deeper, darling.
It's better for both of us." She knelt up, moving her hands and her
knees slowly so that she would not lose him while she changed her
position, his penis vibrating inside her as she moved.
She lay her head on the pillow and her back sloped up towards him,
broadening into the buttocks between which his pulsing, hard penis
seemed to disappear. Frankie shuffled his knees between her opened
waiting thighs and drove into her like a jackhammer.
He watched his huge, hard cock searing into the pink folds of her
flesh as she rocked back and forth against the hairiness of his muscular
thighs.
"Oh baby," she moaned, "you feel so good inside me."
Moving his hands over her buttocks, he rammed into her with growing
ferocity. He could see the thick stub of his flesh disappear and
withdraw with wet rapidity into her moist and clinging well and feel his
loins cushioned against the soft fleshiness of her backside.
Clasping her hips tightly so that his fingers dug red marks into
her smooth, porcelain flesh, he surged into her, swiveling his hips for
greater pressure. Her passage contracted around him, sucking him in in
a tight embrace. She moved her hands helplessly on the sheets and then
lifted her arms behind her, reaching back to clasp his hips and pull him
at her with greater force.
"Yes ... yes ... oooooohhhhhhhh," she groaned, feeling the building
pressure in her belly.
Feeling her fingers on his hips, virtually asking for even more, he
pushed her knees even wider apart with his own and leaned heavily with
his hands on her back, forcing her bottom up towards him. He thrust
into her, leaving the full length of his massive, rock hard cock buried
deep inside her before he withdrew to thrust in again. He kept this
punishing piston movement up until tears of sweet, delicious agony were
streaming down her face, driving slowly powerfully into her to the very
hilt of his rod.
Moaning, gasping, he felt her hands release his hips and brush
lightly against his testicles, tickling, caressing. She fondled each
separately, writhing her bottom on the end of his raging penis and he
felt a fresh rush of passion from the cool touch of her fingers on the
fiery heat of his dangling testicles.
She began to choke out sounds that he was not sure were groans of
passion or of pain so he relaxed his hip-thrusting stabs for just a
second.
"No ... no ... don't stop, please ... don't stop," she begged, her
hands moving back to his hips trying to pull him closer into her once
again.
He battered into her again with renewed passion and lust, each
thrust flattening the soft, round globes of her buttocks as he rocked
forcefully into her.
"Now ... now ... NOW ... I'm Cumming ... I'm cumming ... NOW!" she
gasped loudly.
His body was wet from their lovemaking and he knew that it would
not be long before he would empty his life-giving sperm deep into her
belly.
This sensation grew and grew, a great crushing feeling in his penis
as though his whole insides were being pulled out of him through his
throbbing phallus. He felt powerless to wait any longer, nothing could
stop him now, he couldn't have stopped for anything in the world.
He felt the overwhelming weight of an indefinable sensation
gathering from the root of his being, seeking an outlet. He was panting
furiously, his body heaving with each inward thrust. He felt the
floodtide begin to spill and he groaned, "Now ... now ... I'm cumming
now ... oh yes here it is!"
She pushed her hips back hard against his jerking loins, ready to
accept every drop of his tribute as it spilled hotly into her.
With the last weakening thrust he fell forward on top of her, his
full weight crushing her down into the softness of the mattress. He
kissed the back of her neck, her shoulders murmuring words of tenderness
and love that he had never uttered before.
"Oh, I love you so much, my darling," he choked out.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," she almost sobbed, thinking
that she had never before been so happy in all of her life.
He rolled off of her and she turned to meet his loving gaze, a
glint of happiness showing on both their faces.
They lay there, holding each other, caressing, touching, kissing
when they were interrupted by a long, harsh insistent ring of the
doorbell. At first they both lay there fearful that whomever it was may
hear them and know they were home. They didn't want to spoil their
romantic, loving mood and chose to ignore it, but minute after minute
the ringing persisted until Frankie finally jumped up, threw on his robe
and staggered out to the door.
"Damn it all," he muttered, bending over and kissing her lightly on
the forehead. "I'll be right back, just as soon as I get rid of
whomever's out there!"
Stretching her body languorously, it was as though he were still
inside her, for their lovemaking had been so completely full and
satisfying that she ached all the way down to her toes, and she felt
like one, overflowing, warm, liquid receptacle of love.
She closed her eyes and hugged herself, wishing that he would hurry
back to her, hold her and make her feel safe and loved again, but her
reverie was shattered by the harsh growl of his voice coming from the
hallway and the whine of a woman's voice in return. They were evidently
having an argument by the door, but then she heard Frankie's footsteps
followed by the click of the woman's heels going into the living room.
She sat upright in bed and reached for a cigarette, wondering who it
could be at this hour that would make Frankie forget about her waiting
for him in their bed. As they entered the living room their voices
became louder and more distinguishable and her body shuddered as she
recognized the woman's voice. It was Gypsy! Completely shocked she let
the cigarette fall from her hand and it began to smolder on the
comforter of the bed. She couldn't imagine what had brought her to
their apartment at that time of night and was really afraid to think of
a reason.
She felt an icy chill pass over her and a premonition that
something terrible was about to happen. She jumped out of bed, slipped
into a skirt and sweater and ran into the living room. She wanted to be
with Frankie, be where she could see him.
When she appeared in the doorway of the living room, Frankie was
standing on the other side of the room, his hands thrust into the
pockets of his bathrobe, his head to one side, a thin thread of blue
smoke drifting up to one side of his head where his cigarette was
dangling. His eyes were half closed and he was staring coldly at Gypsy
who was standing directly in front of him, but with her back to her.
She was swaying slightly from side to side, obviously in a drunken
stupor.
Cynthia paused in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, listening
to what Gypsy was saying.
"But you've got to believe me, Frankie. You've just got to! Its
the truth. It is! Honest, it is!" Her voice was high, pleading, tense
and full of insistent passion. She reached out and grabbed the sleeve
of his bathrobe, imploring him to listen to her.
He shrugged her hand away and said coolly, "Why don't you just get
the hell out of here? I've heard this story so damn many times that
you're getting worse each time you repeat it. So why not pack up and
blow!" He took a menacing step toward her and she moved back, tripping
over her own feet. "What in the name of God do I have to do to shut you
up? Kill you!"
She clutched his arm again, stumbling and falling down on her knees
in front of him, putting her arms around his legs and sobbing, "Frankie,
I love you so. Please believe me and come away with me before its too
late."
He reached down and roughly pulled her to her feet. Swaying
drunkenly she grabbed his arm, her long, gnarled fingers hanging on to
him like the talons of a hawk. "Frankie, she shouted, please come with
me ... please."
"You rotten drunk, for God's sake, pull yourself together and get
the hell out of here."
"Why don't you believe me," she sobbed. "I only did it to get you
back. Please believe me ... please!" Her voice was shaking and shrill.
"Torchy said that Cynthia has left you, so you're free. Free! Please
come with me, I'll do anything you say, I promise."
Frankie looked at her disgustedly and spat out at her, "So Cynthia
has left me, has she?" He took her by the shoulders and swung her
around. "Well, look right over there, you raving maniac," he yelled,
pointing at Cynthia who was standing spellbound in the doorway. "See
for yourself, Cindy is right here and what's more, we're getting married
immediately!"
In the sudden silence that followed Cynthia stared at Frankie,
surprise and joy welling up in her heart. "Oh Frankie," she gasped,
"you mean really get married? You really mean it?"
He walked over to her and took her in his arms, cradling her like
you would a child.
"Of course, darling. I don't want to lose you again!" he murmured.
Gypsy glared at the two of them and began to gather her belongings
where they lay on the coffee table. "Well," she muttered, "I guess that
Torchy was wrong, but believe me Frankie I wasn't kidding about what I
said earlier, they are coming to get you!"
Cynthia looked up at Frankie and his hand brushed over the thick
mane of her hair, and kissed the nape of her neck gently.
"What's that all about, Frankie," she implored, her eyes showing
their concern for him and her love.
"Oh, its just the same old stuff. Every once in awhile Gypsy has
illusions of grandeur, that she is going to save me from the bulls, but
its just so much crap, so don't worry your pretty little head about it."
"You mean about the narcotics boys picking you up?" she asked.
"Yeah, same story, but nothing's happened yet and she's told me
this a million times," he answered. "She's just trying to cause trouble
for us and nothing more. She can't accept the fact that I'm in love
with you."
He held her close and together they walked back into the bedroom,
falling on the bed in a warm embrace.
Chapter 16
The next day she felt as though nothing could ever go wrong again.
Frankie had asked her to marry him and even though he had not set a
date, he had said that it would be immediately. She told Frankie that
she had some shopping to do for the house and for her trousseau, kissed
him firmly, deeply and walked out into the warm sunshine. Even though
the wind was fairly strong, the weather was warm and pleasant, matching
the good, complete feeling that she had inside her. She wasn't going to
let anything that Gypsy had said bother her any longer. She knew that
she was just a jealous woman who had been jilted and she was trying in
every way she could to get Frankie back.
She grabbed a cab and headed for the downtown area when a car
pulled up alongside her cab and someone was motioning to her from the
driver's seat.
She looked over and saw that it was Al, so she asked the driver to
stop and she hopped out. Al pulled the car over to the curb and helped
her in.
"What a stroke of luck finding you like this," he said. "I was
going to try the apartment, but I wasn't sure whether or not you had
gone back and whether or not Frankie would be there."
"Oh yes, Frankie was there when I got back and everything is just
fine. In fact, were getting married." Her face was radiant and she
seemed to be glowing, almost ethereal.
"Well, that may not be a bad idea under the circumstances," he
continued. "I hate to throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing, but
I'm afraid that I've got some bad news."
Her face clouded and she was almost afraid to ask what had
happened. Al had never bothered her with petty rumors and was not the
type that delighted in making problems for other people.
"What's the matter? Is it something with Frankie," she implored.
"Well, you know what I told you the other day about Joe Flanagan's
little investigation on Harris and how you may tie in with him. It
seems that that little bastard has dug up some dirt or paid some people
to say that you have been swinging not only with Frankie and Harris, but
with just about anyone else who has the price."
She looked at him in disbelief, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I know that I've been far from perfect, but I've never been a
working girl per se."
"I'm afraid that the local gendarmes aren't about to believe that
especially since they have records of some of your recent purchases in
the local stores and quite frankly, it is way over what you could
possibly be making in a square job."
"Well, what can they do? Are they going to arrest me? What's
going to happen, I've got to know!" she begged.
"Honey, I'm not sure what they're going to do, but if I were you I
wouldn't be seen going into Harris's apartment for some time. They have
a tail on him and unfortunately, it involves your tail."
She shook her head, not knowing what she should say, what she
should do. Sure she had taken money from Harris, but that had been just
to help Frankie out when he was short.
"You've been giving money to Frankie, right? The money you got
from Harris, except for the little bit you stashed?" he asked.
She nodded, not able to speak, the words stuck in her throat and
her tongue felt thick.
"Well, sweetheart, technically that makes him a pimp. They can
bust you for prostitution and get him for living off the earnings of
immorality. They are both felony counts and that adds up to a stretch
in prison no matter how you cut it." He glanced over at her as he drove
and he could see the tears were streaming down her face where there had
been a cheery smile not a few minutes before.
"Well, there is one thing, honey, but it won't be of much help to
you," he continued.
"What's that ... anything," she asked.
"If they get to you first, and if they have the proof that Harris
gave you money, they can arrest you, but you would have to be the one to
point the finger at Frankie. You'd have to testify that you gave him
money, that he was the one who introduced you to Harris and set the
arrangement up."
"I'd never do that," she said, shocked at the thought that he would
say such a thing.
"You may not have a choice, sweetheart. That's what I'm trying to
tell you. The cops already have had their eye on Frankie for narcotics,
you know that, so they'll get him one way or the other if this whole
thing comes to a head. They can put a lot of pressure on a girl like
you to get you to talk. So all I'm saying, is ... be careful."
She kept her eyes down toward the floor of the car and said, "It
doesn't look like I've got much of a chance, do I?"
"Well, just thought I'd warn you. Try not to let it prey on your
mind and maybe this whole stinking mess will blow over. How 'bout a
drink? I think you could use one."
She nodded and he pulled off onto a side street and toward a bar
that she had been to several times before with Frankie.
They went to a booth in the back of the bar and sat down. The
place was crowded, even though it was still early in the day.
"I brought you here for a reason," Al said. "A lot of the Evening
Star reporters hang out in here and if Flanagan comes in I want you to
know what he looks like so you can watch out for him."
He ordered martinis for both of them and she sat back and tried to
relax. The day had started out so nicely, so beautifully, and now
everything was falling apart right in front of her.
She sipped her drink, letting the sting of the alcohol warm her
stomach, hoping that it would calm her quivering nerves. She knew that
the police could exert pressure on people, but she had never thought
that it would affect her. She couldn't believe that it could happen to
her, where had she gone wrong? She wanted to call Harris and ask him
what he would do, but she knew that even this was risky now as they may
have wire-tapped his line. She didn't want to worry Frankie with this
additional problem, but she wasn't sure that she could carry the burden
all by herself. She would have to figure out something--something that
she could do all by herself.
She finished her drink and Al ordered another round from the
waiter. When the waiter returned with their order he told Al that there
was a gentleman at the bar who wanted to see him. He strained his neck
and looked toward the bar and saw Joe Flanagan!
"Well, well," he said, "looks like we're in luck. Flanagan's at
the bar!"
He pointed to a young man wearing a wrinkled trench coat and
carrying an expensive looking attach case.
"That, my dear girl, is Flanagan. Your wolf in sheep's clothing.
Will you excuse me for a moment while I see what the dear boy wants. He
doesn't know that I've been tipping you off, so maybe he'll have
something of interest to tell me. Be right back. Order another drink
if you want one before I return."
He patted her hand and winked at her and moved down the crowded bar
to where Flanagan was standing.
"Afternoon, Joe," he said cheerily, "what brings you into a saloon
so early in the day?"
"Not much, Al. I saw your car outside, so I thought that you were
probably in here and I've got to ask your advice on something. Do you
have a spare minute, it's really very important?"
"Sure, always glad to help a struggling young reporter," he
answered, hoping that he had not seen Cynthia with him.
Flanagan looked peaked and troubled and his voice was shaking as he
repeated his story to Al.
"I got this phone call the other day warning me to lay off of
Harris or I'd be wearing cement shoes and dumped in the lake. I know
this guy Harris can play rough, but I don't think he's so stupid as to
have me wiped out, especially when he knows that my story will be
printed, as is, if anything happens to me." His words came out sure
enough, but it was obvious that he was just trying to convince himself
and was looking for some reassurance.
"What do you think," he continued. "You've been in this game.
Were you ever threatened?"
"Well, I never was very big on exposes, Joe, but it would seem to
me that you're getting too close to Harris for comfort if he would
threaten you like that."
"That's what I thought and I don't want to give up on this story.
It will be the biggest break of my life if things go right and I can
follow it through."
"I'm not trying to scare you, Joe," Al said, "but Harris owns a lot
of this town, both inside and outside the law and there is no question
that you're playing with fire, but from a newspaper standpoint, I think
it would be a shame to quit. Have anything new on the case?" He hoped
that he didn't sound too inquisitive or too anxious to get information,
but Joe seemed eager to talk so he thought he'd take his best shot.
"There have been a few new developments actually. It seems that
Frankie Mahoney, a young punk around town has been pretty tight with
Harris, supplying him with girls, dope, the whole shot, and if we can
get him first I think we'll have a better chance at Harris." Al
listened intently, hoping that Joe would go into more detail so that he
could be of more help to Cynthia.
"What do you plan to do with him," Al asked. "I've seen Mahoney
around, but know him only slightly and it seems that he runs a pretty
tight ship."
"It won't be easy, but Mahoney's girlfriend is Harris's shack-up
and favorite pastime, so we hope that we can nail him that way. It's
just a shot in the dark, but that's the way we plan on working it."
Al was afraid that this is what they would have in mind, but he
tried not to let his concern show on his face as he excused himself.
"Good luck, Joe. I hope I was some help, but it's your neck, so do
what you think best."
"Yeah, thanks a lot ... for listening anyway, I guess you're right.
I'll keep you posted," he replied.
Al walked back to the table and sat down.
"Well, what's the verdict," Cynthia asked. "You don't look so
happy. What did you find out?"
"It doesn't look good, I've got to tell you that. They plan on
getting to Frankie through you and through Frankie to Harris. Looks as
though they'll be hounding you first, so be on the lookout."
"Well ... that's charming. Now I'll be afraid to walk outside
without the fear of someone stopping me and taking me right in. Can
they do that?" she asked hesitantly.
"Technically, they can bold you on suspicion of anything at all
without proof for seventy-two hours, and in that time they can get
pretty persuasive."
"You're so encouraging, Al," she said, trying to laugh, but her
insides were churning from fright.
"Well, sweetheart, try to forget it for the time being. I don't
think it's something that they're going to do right away. They've got
to have pretty strong evidence before they make a move like that. Just
play it cool and ride with the punches."
"Well, in that case I think I'll have another drink. Okay?" she
said.
"Sure, anything you want." he answered and motioned for the waiter
to bring another round.
She finished her third martini and was beginning to feel a little
more relaxed. The alcohol was dulling the realization that she could be
in some serious trouble, and at least this would take her mind off the
problem for the moment.
"Are you going to be all right if I leave you here," Al asked. "I
don't think we'd better be seen talking together in view of what Joe
just told me. If he sees us I doubt that I will get any more
information from him and it could make things worse!"
"No ... no ... that's okay, I'll be just fine. You go ahead, I'm
just going to sit here for a moment and finish my last drink and then
head for home. I don't think that I'll say anything to Frankie about
this just at the moment, it might make him more nervous and he doesn't
need anymore problems at the moment."
"I think that that would be wise, sweetheart. Just keep what I've
told you to yourself and wait and see what happens. Don't get
depressed. If anything happens you can bet that I'll be right there to
see what I can do."
"Thanks Al, thanks so much, you're a real friend. I don't know
what I'd do without you."
She watched him leave and she wanted to cry, but she knew that she
would have to face whatever came along. She didn't want to risk losing
Frankie, especially now that they had just rediscovered each other
again, she couldn't take that.
She finished her drink and sat there for a minute, smoking a
cigarette and debating whether or not she would risk calling Harris. It
seemed that he always had the answers and what could they possibly prove
by a phone call.
She snuffed out her cigarette, put on her coat and walked outside
into the chilling air of the Chicago Loop.
Chapter 17
The streets were fairly crowded and she couldn't find a taxi so she
began walking, trying to decide what she should do. She didn't know
what the police could do to her, but Al seemed to know what he was
talking about and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize Frankie.
She knew that she shouldn't go to Harris, but it seemed like the only
way out. She had to risk a phone call. She walked to the nearest phone
booth to call Frankie and tell him that she wouldn't be home until
later, but there was no answer. She deposited another dime and dialed
Harris's number and let it ring several times. She was about to hang up
when he answered the phone.
"Oh hello, darling," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasant
surprise?"
"Conrad," she said, her voice trembling, "I've got to talk to you.
Something else has come up. Can I come over?"
"Certainly, Cindy," he said, his voice low and sympathetic. "In
fact I'm having a few people over this evening and it will be a good
chance to show you off. Come right over." And he hung up.
Her legs were trembling as she walked the last few blocks to his
apartment. She wasn't sure that she had done the right thing, but she
had made the call, she was, going over there, so it was too late now.
When she arrived at his apartment there were several other men
already there. She assumed that they were business associates of
Conrad's, so she smiled congenially when he introduced her around and
then steered her toward the bar.
"What'll it be, my love," he said.
"Better stick to martinis, I've already had several already."
"Hmmmmm, it must have been a rough day. Why don't you bring your
drink into the study and tell me what this is all about?"
He led her into the other room, patting her affectionately on the
behind as she stepped through the doorway.
She seated herself in an overstuffed leather chair and kicked off
her shoes, raising her knees just high enough to afford him a clear view
of her long, slim legs and the bulge of soft flesh above her stockings.
"Conrad, I hardly know where to begin, but I saw Al again today,
the fellow who first warned me about Flanagan and you. It seems that
the police and the newspaper have some incriminating evidence about our
relationship, the fact that I have been giving the money you give to me
to Frankie and they plan to make a start on the case right there. I've
never been in a situation like this before and I'm not sure what I
should do or what I should say." Her voice was shaking from
nervousness, and becoming slightly thick from the affect of the
martinis.
"Well, that does present a new picture, doesn't it," he said,
sliding his arm around the back of the chair.
"You know," she continued, "that you are the only other man besides
Frankie that I see, but the way the police will make it look won't be
good. I'm sure you don't want that kind of exposure."
"You're quite right, my dear," he said, leering down the front of
her dress and taking in the full-blown curve of her breasts.
"Al told me that the police plan on getting to Frankie through me
and to you through Frankie. You know that I would never rat on Frankie
and that he would never say anything about you, but they do have ways of
finding out things and I'm scared."
"It isn't the most pleasant situation in the world, I know," he
said, speaking softly, "but prostitution is the oldest profession in the
world and John Law does frown upon women making their living that way."
He laughed weakly, hoping that he could make her feel more at ease, but
his own mind was going a million miles a minute. He couldn't afford to
be the only one to be known as her paramour, especially since he was
paying for it. His image would be shattered, to say nothing of what
they could do to him legally if Frankie ever talked to save his own
neck.
"I'll see what I can do, sweetheart," he said, trying to console
her, but realizing that the alcohol was dulling her senses and perhaps
she wasn't hearing a word he was saying.
She got up from her chair and threw her arms around his neck and
kissed him firmly on the lips.
"Oh Conrad," she murmured, "I don't know what I'd do without your
strength. You always know exactly what to do."
He held her close and she could feel a rising bulge grow beneath
his trousers, and her fingers closed lightly around it.
"Tell you what, Cindy," he said, breathing heavily, "will you do me
a favor in return?"
"Anything you want ... anything at all," she said, swaying against
him slightly.
"Well, the men who are outside are very important people to me,
close associates, and maybe we could give them a little party tonight?"
His voice was tender, but she knew by the way that he said it that she
had no choice in the matter at all.
"But that's what the police want to prove I'm doing," she pleaded,
pulling away from him slightly.
"I know, darling," he went on, "but this is just a private little
party and you know that you're safe here." His voice became more
authoritative as he spoke and once again he pulled her close to him,
running his hands up and down over the curve of her spine and resting on
the full, soft globes of her buttocks.
"If you think it will be all right," she condescended, "but I'll
have to call Frankie and tell him I won't be home till later. I
couldn't reach him earlier."
"Never mind that," he whispered, "I'll call him for you and tell
him you're doing me a special favor ... for a special price ... and I'm
sure he won't mind." He chuckled softly and pinched her soundly on the
behind and sent her out into the other room.
The men were all standing around drinking and talking among
themselves when she entered the room. Their conversations stopped and
all eyes were on her, mentally undressing her.
"Don't let me interrupt ... please," she said with a forced
seductive smile. "Conrad will be out in just a moment."
One of the men came over to her and grabbed her around the waist.
"You're quite young ... and so attractive. Where has Conrad been hiding
you."
She knew that she would have to be nice to these men, so she raised
her eyes to meet his gaze and said, "Well, he's been keeping me all to
himself, up to now that is!" There was promise in her voice and the
other men were now listening to her conversation as she teased this
other man.
Her voice shook with apprehension and she wondered if one of these
men might be a police inspector. Conrad did have some of the law on his
side and many of the men on the force were "friends" of his, but she
tried to block this from her mind.
The man's hand tightened around her waist and he bent to kiss the
nape of her neck.
"Well, well," he murmured, "Maybe Conrad will allow us to share the
wealth."
He had just finished speaking when Conrad appeared at the door,
saying, "Of course, she is such a lovely creature, it does seem a shame
to hide her. You don't mind, do you dear?"
She slid away from the man's grasp and walked to the bar.
"No, I don't mind, Conrad," she said quiveringly, "but I do think
that I'll have another drink first." She was hoping that she could
consume enough liquor so that she would not be fully cognizant of what
was about to happen.
The other two men were now watching her as her hips undulated
towards the bar and she poured herself another martini. As she bent to
put the ice in her glass, her dress gaped just enough in front so they
could all see the round, soft fullness of her ripe breasts as they
pushed against the confines of the material. She looked up at them as
they all stared at her as though they were about to attack.
God, she thought, how can I take on so many men in one evening,
what will they do to me?
She gulped down her drink as one of the older men moved toward her.
He didn't even look as though he would be able to make love, he looked
too decrepit!
He was ugly. His lips were thin and hard and his nose was bulbous
and veined, his sparse hair lay like a cobweb on his head, but his eyes
were glinting with animal lust. His gaze was taking her in, prying deep
beneath her dress and uncovering every inch of her flesh.
She glanced over at Conrad who was sitting on the couch and merely
nodded to her that she was doing just fine.
"Give the boys a good time, love," he finally said. "I'm sure
you'll be amply rewarded."
"Yes indeed," they all said in unison. "I haven't had such a young
piece in a long time. This is going to be a real pleasure!"
Conrad went over and put on some low, soft mood music and hinted to
Cynthia that perhaps she could start by doing a strip for them.
She hadn't counted on this. She didn't mind stripping in front of
Conrad, because she knew that this stimulated him, but she had hoped
that the room would be dark when she had to be with the other men. She
didn't want to see their faces, didn't want to have to face the fact
that she was just giving her body to men that repulsed her.
She stood there frozen to the spot for several minutes when Conrad
said impatiently, "Well, my dear. Let's get with it!"
She had never heard his voice so commanding, but she thought that
this was just because the other men were there and he wanted to show his
authority.
Slowly she moved from behind the bar and began to sway in time with
the music, rotating her hips sensually. She stood on her toes,
stretching her body and throwing her fully rounded bosom forward as she
reached behind her and began to undo the zipper of her dress. The
material slid off easily over the silky sheerness of her lingerie and
she stood in front of the men clothed only in her half-brassiere, garter
belt, black silk stockings and sheer bikini briefs. An almost inaudible
gasp came from all the men as they stared at the perfect proportions of
her young, supple body.
She heard one of them say, "I can't wait to get at that!" The
comment disgusted her, but she continued her undulating, and sensual
writhing around the room. She raised one leg slightly and propped it on
the chair in a pretense of straightening her stocking, giving the men a
better view of the cleavage of her buttocks where the thin panties were
pulled tight.
The men were seated at different points in the room, so she walked
slowly by all of them, letting them ogle her curves and reach out and
fondle the smoothness of her exposed flesh.
"What a piece of ass," one said. "Just look at all those lovely
curves!"
Reluctantly, she reached behind her and unfastened her brassiere.
The soft, full mounds of her breasts fell free, bouncing slightly as she
walked. The nipples were pointing pertly upward as they became erect
when they felt the cool air hit them. The older, ugly man reached out
and squeezed one breast harshly causing her to cry out in pain.
"Let her alone," the other two murmured. "Let her get completely
undressed."
The man released his biting grip on her breast and she continued
her sensual dance. All the men were breathing rapidly and she could see
the rise of their penises as she walked from one to the other. Their
hands were rubbing impatiently on their thighs, stimulating themselves
even further.
She reached down and unhooked the stays of her garter belt,
affording them a glorious view of the firmness of her thighs and the
bulge of her hips where they rounded out into the fullness of her
buttocks. Her stockings fell loosely around her ankles and she stepped
out of them, letting them on the floor where they fell. In just another
moment she stood before them completely nude and voluptuous. The men
stared at her for several minutes, almost in awe of her beauty, but
slowly began disrobing. Conrad did not move from his chair, but just
sat back and watched the circus that was about to begin.
The first man to get undressed was the horrid, older man and she
felt as though she would be sick as he moved toward her. He reached out
and let his hands wander wantonly over her young, firm body, devouring
every inch of exposed flesh and pulling the cheeks of her soft, round
buttocks apart and running his fingers deeply into the crease of her
behind. She cringed at the thought of this disgusting man touching her,
but she did nothing to resist.
She glanced over at Conrad, her stomach churning at the thought of
what he was subjecting her to, but knowing that there was nothing she
could do about it. She was completely in his power, to do his bidding,
even if it meant entertaining his guests.
The other two men were standing over her, leering down, watching
while the ugly one caressed her resilient flesh, waiting impatiently for
their turn at her.
"Make her lie down," one of the other commanded the older man.
Without waiting for him to force her down, she lay down on the soft
pile of the rug, her thighs pressed closely together, trying to hide her
vulnerable spot. One of the men grabbed her ankles and forced her legs
harshly apart.
"Let's see what she's trying to hide," he choked out, his breath
thick with passion.
The other man knelt down beside her and ran his hand up the inside
of her smooth supple thigh, pinching every inch or so, making her jump
slightly off the floor. So far they had done nothing but fondle her and
she was beginning to think that perhaps this was all they wanted. She
looked up and saw three erect, huge penises bobbing over her body,
throbbing with desire and lust. She had never felt so humiliated, so
degraded in her life.
Finally one of the men, the ugly one, moved behind her head and
began to run his fingers over her eyes, nose and lips, inserting two
fingers into her mouth which was dry. Her eyes closed tightly, trying
to block out the image of the face that was above hers. He forced her
mouth open with prying fingers and she could feel him rise to his knees
just in back of her shoulders. She felt a rush of air as his pulsing
prick jerked up and down over her face just before he forced his
monstrous, veined tool into her mouth.
"Suck it, baby," he grunted. "Suck it good. Lick it!"
She wanted to be sick, but she obeyed him, running her tongue over
the entire length of his phallus.
"Look at her work," one of the other men stammered. "God, she's
eating the whole thing!"
Her shoulders were pinned to the floor by the older, ugly man's
knees, leaving the rest of her body at the other two's disposal. She
felt one pair of hands run tickling up her thighs until they found the
tiny pink bud of her clitoris. The other pair of hands were holding her
ankles firmly well spread, like she were tied and quartered. Fingers
manipulated her clitoris, rubbing it insistently until she began to feel
an involuntary tightness grow in her loins.
No ... no ... she thought, I can't let this happen. I can't let
these awful men arouse me. How can Conrad just sit there and let them
do this to me.
"God, what a pussy," the man choked as he ran one finger up and
down the tight, elastic slit of her vaginal passage. She could feel her
juices begin to flow and when he inserted one long hard finger into her
passage, she could feel the walls of her womb close involuntarily around
it.
"Whew ... she's tight, so damn tight!" he murmured.
He moved his finger in a vibrating fashion inside her until she
thought she would scream, but her mouth was filled with the other man's
huge, pulsing cock. He was rocking back and forth on his ankles,
forcing his erect, thick rod deeper and deeper into her throat until she
thought that he would make her swallow it.
"That's it! Keep it up! Suck it ... harder ... harder!" he
whimpered as she sucked and ran her tongue over his fat pulsating prick.
"I'm getting there ... just keep it up!"
"You keep it up if you can," one of the other men laughed. "That's
probably the, first hard on he's had in years!"
The man's chiding bruised his ego and he could feel himself losing
control of himself and was afraid he would lose his erection.
"Reach around me," he commanded. "Grab my ass. Pull me into you
... deeper!"
She reached up in back of her head and pulled his bony behind
closer toward her face.
"Finger me," he ordered, his erection becoming strong once again.
Her fingers ran in the crease of his buttocks and she pulled
reluctantly at the almost fleshless cheeks, searching for the tiny
aperture of his anus. She didn't want to do what he had ordered, but
when he felt her finger at his opening, he sat back almost immediately,
forcing her tiny, slim finger inside his rectum.
"Aaagggggghhhh," he gasped. "That's it ... nice ... nice!"
She felt him impaled on her hand and in her mouth as he rocked
closer and closer to his orgasm. The thought of his sperm shooting into
her throat made her nauseous and her stomach jerked up and down as
though she would be sick.
The other two men watched completely enthralled at the erotic
sight, forgetting their own passions for the moment. Her body began to
writhe and thrash uncontrollably as the older man began to wrack out his
climax, shooting the hot liquid deep into her mouth.
"Uuuuuuggggghhhhh," she gasped as she felt him go limp and slowly
slide out of her mouth. His penis no longer had the length to reach her
mouth and it raked slipperily over her face, leaving a thin, sticky
trail of sperm as he pulled away and collapsed backwards on the rug.
When he had finished the other two men began to tantalize and abuse
the lower half of her body. Her legs were pulled so far apart that she
thought she would split. Her thighs ached from the pressure being
exerted on her ankles, the strain against the juncture at her hips.
Hands began to prod and pinch the flesh of her thighs, squeezing,
hurting and she cried out in pain.
"Nooooo, not so hard ... you're hurting me!" she pleaded, but this
only seemed to excite them even more.
They laughed wickedly at her pain and she screamed to Conrad to
help her, but he was no longer sitting in the chair, he had gone! Four
hands were mauling her whole body, plunging and prodding at every inch
of exposed supple, soft flesh until she felt that she would be one huge
bruise. Two fingers thrust roughly into her dry, aching vagina,
wiggling furiously until once again she could feel her own lust
beginning to take control of her body. She relaxed slightly and
whimpered, "Oh no ... Oooohhhhhhnooooooooo."
"I do believe that we're getting this little bitch hot," one man
laughed as they watched her try to buck away from their advances.
"Please ... please ... stop ... stop," she begged, but they just
chuckled wickedly and continued their cruel fingering.
The man who had been holding her ankles moved further up on her
body and closed his mouth over the fleshy, round mountain of one breast,
sucking lasciviously at the nipple until it stood up, erect and aching
in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the pink bud teasingly until she
was moaning abandonly, completely controlled and powered by the fire
that was building helplessly in her loins.
"Aagggghhhhh ... ooohhhhhhh," she groaned, while the two men worked
on her. The other man removed his fingers from her now damp vaginal
passage and began to tweak the erect little clitoris until she thought
she would go out of her mind.
"Please ... please ..." she begged half inaudibly.
"Now she's begging me for it," he choked out, laughingly.
His hands held her thighs firmly apart and he lowered his face
within an inch of her pubis and let his tongue flick out in snake-like
fashion, just brushing the pink bud of her clitoris and scrape wetly
over her vaginal lips and slit.
"Ooooohhhhhh God" she moaned, "Ooohhhh God nooooo."
He teased and prodded with his tongue for several minutes longer
before covering her aching denied passage with his warm, wet mouth and
began sucking loudly.
She thrust her hips up towards his face so that he would have
better access to her open wound.
He was driving her out of her mind and she wanted a man inside her.
It didn't matter who it was, just as long as someone was going to fuck
her!
"Give it to me," she pleaded, "I can't stand it any more!"
Tears of degradation and humiliation were running down her cheeks
as the words came out of her mouth. She tried to reach down with her
hands and pull the man's mouth in closer to her, but he was just out of
reach, so she grabbed at the head that was sucking viciously on her
breast. Her eyes were closed and she was rocking back and forth in
animal ecstasy when she heard footsteps just over her head. She looked
up and Conrad was standing above her, leering down, grinning menacingly.
"You're giving quite a little party," he said. "I've brought
someone else to watch!"
She looked up through the haze of passion and Conrad was motioning
to another man to come into the room.
"He's just another friend of mine, sweetheart," he said, but the
warmness had disappeared from his voice. "Don't let him bother you.
You can be introduced later."
The two men who were making love to her did not even stop to see
who it was that had walked in and continued their passionate, sensual
rape of her body.
She closed her eyes again and let the animal instincts completely
take control of her every nerve. She could feel the hardness of one
man's huge penis as it jerked against her and her fingers closed around
it, massaging it vigorously until he moved up on her and thrust it
cruelly, hardly into her mouth. She sucked on it like a dying woman,
like she had never had anything so good. Meanwhile the other man, who
had been mouthing her moved between her knees and she could feel the
hard length of his prick jerking spastically against her thigh.
She moaned weakly, trying to mouth the words "Fuck me," but her
mouth was filled. She wanted that giant, erect rod inside her, deep
inside her, hurting her, fucking her, making her cum! She wriggled her
hips violently, begging with each movement for him to take her, but he
was making her wait.
Slowly he moved up on her until she felt his steel-like prick
pulsing against the moist lips of her vagina, prodding painstakingly at
the tiny opening. She lifted her hips off the carpet until she could
feel the purplish swollen head of his penis gently parting her pubic
hair and pushing through the tiny ring of her open, wet pussy.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm," she whimpered, still sucking noisily on the
other's cock.
He could feel the entire length of his cock sliding in and out of
her mouth while he watched the other man take her from the other end.
Her insides were on fire with desire and she thrashed up and down
like a combine.
The thickness of his penis was filling her vagina and she could
feel her damp vaginal walls close around the shaft with each increasing
stroke. God, she had never felt like this in her life. She had never
had two men make love to her at the same time and she was enjoying it!
The tightness in her loins was building to the breaking point and
she knew that she was about to explode ... about to cum!
She could feel an increasing swelling of the prick in her mouth and
she sucked on it even harder, hoping that he would cum the same time she
exploded. She was getting, a new, exciting, lewd kind of thrill from
this obscene circus.
She felt his huge, erect penis begin to jerk wildly in her mouth
and his sperm began to shoot into her, deep into her throat. She sucked
it harder, hoping to keep his climax going while she jerked out her own.
"Oooooohhhhh ... aaagggggghhh," she gasped, as she felt the walls
of her vagina contract and expand around the monstrous, delicious prick
that was worming around salaciously inside her contracting belly.
She gasped and the penis in her mouth slid out, but she was cumming
and she could think of nothing else.
"Oh yes ... yes... I'm cumming ... I'm cummmmmmming!" she almost
screamed, bucking her hips up against his pounding organ.
"God, she's hot ... yes ... sooooo hot," the other man moaned as
he, too, began to jerk his cum far up into her belly. Each stroke drove
deeper and deeper and he pulled her hips up toward him until her knees
were pinned back against her chest.
"I'm cumming ... I'm cumming, too ..." he groaned, as the last of
his spasms exploded deep inside her.
The three men and Cynthia lay exhausted, breathing heavily on the
floor, trying to regain some composure.
When they began to stir, Conrad addressed the group.
"Gentlemen ... Cynthia, my love," he said, "I'd like you to meet
Fred Johnson."
He was referring to the gentleman who had just come into the room,
whom she had seen while the men were making love to her.
The men got to their feet, pulling on their trousers hurriedly and
trying to look presentable, but obviously embarrassed.
"Don't worry, gentlemen," the new man said, "It's the little lady
that I'm interested in."
She looked up at him and then back at Conrad, trying to see in his
face who this man was and what he wanted.
Conrad continued, "You see, Cynthia, since the police already think
you've turned whore and since you told me that I was your only customer,
I thought that Fred here might show you the ropes and get you a few
more. We can't disappoint the law, now can we?"
She stared at him in disbelief, disgusted and completely humiliated
by his triumphant smile.
"There is no reason why Fred can't share the wealth. After all, I
owe him a few favors and I've decided to make him a present of you. You
can make him a very wealthy man."
"But ... what about Frankie," she stammered.
"Oh, you can continue to live with him for the time being, but
believe me, unless you play ball with Fred, you will be in a world of
trouble and so will Frankie. Do you understand me!"
She nodded and blinked back tears that were welling up in her eyes.
So they were going to turn her out ... turn her into a common whore ...
a prostitute.
It was almost ironic, however. She had never thought of herself
that way, yet she had taken on the three friends of Conrad's and enjoyed
it!
She resigned herself to his command. After all, she had no choice
and maybe she could make some good money to help she and Frankie get out
of this awful mess.
Hesitantly she got up and walked to the bathroom, taking her
clothes with her. She splashed cold water on her face, hoping that she
would wake up and find out that it had just been a bad dream, but she
could hear the laughter and the voices coming from the other room and
she knew that she was in too deep now to ever get out.
Chapter 18
She walked back into the living room and sat down, her head in her
hands. She felt nauseous, half from the martinis and half from disgust.
She didn't know how she would be able to explain this to Frankie. He
had never actually tried to turn her out to go with any man who had the
price, even though she knew that she could make a lot of money. Frankie
had always done alright on his own through his connections in the dope
scene, but now it looked as though she was going to have to go with any
man that Fred told her to. Harris was acting strangely towards her now.
She knew that this was just his way of protecting himself in case she
would ever have to testify. If the police had witnesses that she had
become a prostitute, she wouldn't stand a chance.
The men didn't even seem to notice that she was sitting there, they
went on with their conversation completely ignoring her. She was
embarrassed, humiliated and completely ashamed as she got up and went to
get her coat.
"I'm leaving now," she barely whispered.
"Night," they called in unison.
"I want to see you tomorrow morning back here," Fred said, Harris
nodding in agreement.
"Yeah, okay," she answered, and opened the door and ran down the
hall to the elevator.
The cool night air felt refreshing on her face, but the filth that
she felt inside could not be cleansed. She walked to the nearest phone
booth and called Frankie. He told her that he had just gotten in and
that he was going over to Shoo-Fly's apartment and that he would meet
her there. She was hardly in the mood for a party, but maybe it would
take her mind off what had happened earlier in the evening.
She wasn't far from Shoo-Fly's apartment so she decided to walk
rather than take a cab, besides, she needed time to think things out.
She just couldn't tell Frankie, but she would have to think of some
excuse so that he wouldn't become suspicious if she had to be away
overnight, and that wouldn't be easy! She knew that Frankie would be
leery of her actions since she had left him for a day or so, just a few
days before. She pulled her coat closer around her and hurried down the
street to Shoo-Fly's apartment.
Shoo-Fly's "mistress" opened the door when she knocked and "he"
whisked her into the living room where just a few people were sitting
around, listening to records, smoking pot and talking. Frankie was not
there yet so she decided to help herself to a joint and relax on one of
the many cushions that we're scattered around on the floor. The acrid
smell of the smoke permeated the room and she could already hear muffled
giggles coming from another part of the house. Typical Shoo-Fly party,
she thought to herself.
Finally Shoo-Fly appeared in the doorway and gave her an
enthusiastic embrace.
"Welcome, you sweet thing," he giggled. "As you can see, it's the
same old group!"
She looked around to see if Al was there, but he was nowhere in
sight. She lay back on the cushion and let the marijuana take its
affect. She didn't need much since she had been drinking martinis in
the afternoon and earlier that evening. The music vibrated and spun in
her head and she was about to drift into a hazy twilight when she heard
Frankie's voice.
"Well, there you are, my love," he said, "I've missed you today,"
and he bent over and gave her a warm kiss.
She looked up at him tenderly, thinking that she would do anything
in the world not to hurt or worry him.
"Sit down, love," she said, patting a place next to her on the
cushion.
"Just a minute, let me get a joint," he added, and walked to the
bar and took one from a silver cigarette case and lit it
She looked around the room and spotted Carla, the ex-stripper, who
had first introduced her to "H." She had not tried it since Shoo-Fly's
last party, but she wasn't getting the affect from the pot that she
usually got and thought that maybe later she would try it again.
"Hi Carla," she called out. "Haven't seen you around. Where've
you been?"
"Just around," she said, "what's new with you."
Cynthia got up from her cushion and walked over to her, meeting
Frankie halfway across the room.
"Be back in a second, sweetheart," she said. "Carla," she
inquired, "do you have any more of that white stuff with you tonight?"
"Sure, honey. You want to try some? Not getting the same kicks
you were before, eh?" She laughed, a drug-high laugh.
"Well, yes, that's part of it. I just need something to make me
forget I'm alive!"
"Things bad? Thought you and Frankie were thick as thieves now."
"We are, that's part of the problem."
"Well, I won't pry, but come with me and let Mama Carla fix you
up."
She followed Carla into the kitchen and watched her as she measured
out a portion of the heroin and handed it to her.
"You remember how I told you to take it?" she asked.
"You sniff from one side first and then the other, right?"
"You got it, kid. Go to it!"
She bent over the white powder and inhaled part of it deeply into
one nostril, then did the same with the other. She didn't feel the same
dizziness, nausea, that she did the first time she tried it. Her head
felt light, her whole body felt light, she felt as though she could
conquer the whole world! She walked, or rather floated, back into the
living room and sat down next to Frankie and put her arms around him.
"I love you so much," she said, but she thought that her voice
sounded as if it were coming from somewhere else. She giggled and he
pulled her close to him.
"What have you been smoking?" he said chidingly.
"Just had one joint," she laughed, "But a whole lot of something
else!"
"You took some horse?" he demanded.
"What of it?" she replied.
"Nothing, honey," his voice more concerned than angry, "but just so
you know how to handle it."
She heard the words that he was saying, but they floated somewhere
around her head without really getting through.
"I feel so good, so warm, how could it possibly be bad?" she asked,
not entirely innocently. She had heard stories of people getting
completely hooked on junk and not living for anything else but their
next fix, but she was certain that it wouldn't happen to her.
He kissed her lightly on the cheek, knowing that she was not
comprehending anything that he was saying, or even listening. I'll talk
to her tomorrow, he thought.
He knew that something was bothering her for her to try heroin
again, but now was not the time to ask her. He couldn't imagine what it
could be unless she was upset about Gypsy's visit the night before, but
he passed over that because she had seemed so happy that morning.
"Cindy," he whispered, "You know what can happen. Just don't let
it happen to you! In fact, I won't let it!"
She just looked at him with vacant eyes, her mind a million miles
away in her own little reverie.
She put her head down on the pillow, closed her eyes and fell
asleep. Frankie watched her for about fifteen minutes then got up and
wandered around the room aimlessly, trying to figure out what had
happened to make her take this giant step. He knew that she had been
upset that he had left Shoo-Fly's last party with that redhead, but they
had straightened that out. The only other thing was Gypsy's
accusations, warnings and untimely visit, but he was certain that it
wasn't that.
He was about to walk back into Shoo-Fly's playroom when he felt a
hand on his shoulder and a man's voice addressing him.
"Greetings pal," he said.
"Oh hi, Al," Frankie replied, "back to the den of iniquity I see."
"Well, I hadn't planned on coming, but I heard that you and Cynthia
would be here, so I thought I'd drop by."
"You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd think that you had eyes
for my girl," he said laughingly.
"Well, actually," Al replied, "don't know if she told you, but I
did have a drink, with her this afternoon."
"Oh!"
"Don't get the wrong idea. She was on her way to go shopping, but
there is something that I found out that is of interest to both of you,
actually."
"What's that? Anything important? Cindy has been acting strangely
this evening, maybe you can shed some light on the situation."
"I thought she may have decided to tell you, Frankie, but honestly,
I think she was afraid that you didn't need anything else to worry
about."
"She's right on that count, but what is it anyway?"
Al told him briefly what he had found out about Harris, Joe
Flanagan's investigation and how they were going to try to nail Cynthia
in order to tie in Frankie and Harris.
"That's just lovely ... fucking lovely," Frankie stammered. "What
did Cindy plan on doing, keeping it a secret forever?"
"I don't know, but you know that she would never do anything to
hurt you."
"That poor sweet, dumb kid," Frankie said, "I guess I'll have to
have a talk with her in the morning. I wouldn't let those bastards take
advantage of her, she's too real. You meet so few real people, and
she's one of them."
"Well, don't tell her I said anything to you. Let her think you
found it out all by yourself ... That way you keep both of us in good
graces!"
"Sure thing," he said, "And thanks a lot. Many, many thanks."
Frankie wandered towards the back of the apartment and stood
outside the door of the playroom. He wished that Cynthia hadn't passed
out because he would have liked to make love to her, but that was
impossible now. He could hear giggling and moans coming from inside the
room and he rubbed his hands briskly over his thighs as he debated
whether or not he should go in. He didn't want to take the chance of
Cynthia's waking up and catching him again, but he knew that she would
sleep for at least another hour or so, so he opened the door and walked
into the ante-room.
"Well, hello there," a voice, a woman's voice, said.
He turned around, surprised that someone else was waiting there
before going in and joining in on the fun.
"What's the matter, love? In need of some loving that your little
girlfriend can't handle?"
When his eyes had become adjusted to the light, he realized that
the voice belonged to a reasonably sober Gypsy! He looked at her, his
eyes taking in the flabbiness of her flesh, the wrinkles in her face
where once there had been firmness and youth.
"Not exactly," he answered her, "Just thought that I'd get some
diversion while she is indisposed, anything wrong with that?"
"Nothing at all, sweetheart," she murmured, moving closer to him
and running her hands over his muscular chest and waist.
"Hold on a minute, Gypsy," he said slowly, "I didn't say that you
were going to be my diversion!"
"Oh Frankie ... please ... please," she pleaded, dropping to her
knees and grasping the back of his thighs as she lowered herself.
He was about to pick her up and bent to put his hands under her
arms to lift her when she grabbed his flaccid, limp penis and closed her
mouth over it. He straightened up, startled by her forwardness, but
stimulated by the warmth of her mouth and tongue as it encouraged him
into erectness.
"Oohhhhhhh," he gasped as he felt the tightening build between his
legs.
"Let's go inside," she whispered, taking her mouth from him for
just a second and tugging firmly at his legs.
He opened the door to the mattress and pillow-covered room and they
fell together twisting and turning like animals in heat.
"I knew that you would come back to me, Frankie," she murmured. "I
knew you still loved me."
Frankie was barely listening to what she was saying, but tried to
put everything out of his mind, except for the fact that his need had to
be satisfied. He knew that it was wrong to let her believe that he did
care for her again, but he was breathing too rapidly and his lust was
too great to risk her leaving him, so he said nothing. She ran her
tongue up and down his body until he was twitching ecstatically beneath
her oral caress and his massive organ was standing upright from his
loins.
She paused for a moment and looked at his great and throbbing
manhood before, once again, closing her mouth over it. It filled her
mouth until she thought she would choke, but she didn't want to let it
go. She sucked voraciously, licking the veined underside at the same
time, taking every inch that she could in her throat.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm. Aaaahhhhhhhhh," he groaned as her fingers began to
tickle his loose hanging testicles, sending shivers throughout his whole
being.
He could feel the heat from her aging body against his flesh, and
even though her breasts were not as firm as they had once been, they
were still full and soft against him. He put one hand around one of her
soft, full globes and squeezed gently at first, then harder, pinching
the nipple into erectness.
"Yes ... yes ... Frankie ... yes," she whimpered, tingling from his
touch.
She moved on her knees between his legs so that she could reach
underneath him and pull his hips up closer and deeper into her mouth,
and he could fondle her breasts at the same time.
Her bony fingers slipped under his buttocks and she ran her fingers
into the crease of his behind, prodding and pulling in an effort to find
the tiny elastic hole of his rectum.
"Agggghhhhh," he moaned as she pulled apart the fleshy cheeks of
his buttocks and slowly moved close to the minute aperture. He was in
such a state of passion and need that it didn't matter what she did, the
pressure that was building between his legs was the only thing that
mattered to him.
His hands tightened their grip on her soft, ripe breasts and she
wiggled against him, knowing that her need was as great as his. She had
wanted Frankie for a long time, so she wanted to make it last as long as
possible. She knew that he would cum if she continued her mouthing of
his erect, pulsing phallus, so reluctantly she pulled her mouth off of
him and ran her tongue up his body and bit quickly and sharply at the
base of his throat.
He pulled her up on him until she was lying flat on top of him, her
thighs lying against his stomach and pubis. She could feel his hard,
jerking manhood prod into her flesh demanding satisfaction, so she
pressed her body even further and harder into him and kissed him
passionately, running her tongue over his gums and thrusting it deep
into his throat. He sucked greedily at her tongue as she rocked against
his body, driving spasms of lustful joy through his whole being.
"Cynthia ... Cindy," he moaned softly, completely oblivious to the
fact that it was Gypsy who was on him and not Cynthia.
Gypsy took her mouth away from his and was about to say something
or just get up and leave him when she felt his fingers reach down
between their bodies and begin to caress the soft down of her pubic
mound in an effort to find the bud of her clitoris. Her own need was so
great that she decided to let the fact that he had called her by the
wrong name pass over. His fingers were manipulating her roughly until
her clitoris was hard and pulsing with desire.
"Ooohhhhh, yes ... yes ... yes, baby," she crooned, nibbling at his
neck and ears. "Do it."
He worked his fingers in a frenzy, trying to get her to such a
point that she would raise her thighs slightly and he could slam his
rock hard penis deep into her with the first plunge. His hardened,
throbbing rod ached from want and lust and he had to have her.
"Raise up," he ordered hotly, pulling at her thighs insistently.
"Not yet," she murmured softly, knowing that she was driving him
out of his mind.
"Yes ... yes ... now ... NOW!" he commanded again, this time
shoving one thick finger harshly into the warm, clinging walls of her
vagina.
"Oh God," she groaned at the sudden intrusion, but pushed her hips
down harder on this impalement. She wriggled on top of him, feeling the
thickness of his finger deep inside her and his fingernail scraping
lightly against the wet, throbbing walls.
"God what you do to me," she whispered thickly.
"Get on top of me ... now ... now," he ordered her again, but this
time she raised her hips slowly and poised herself directly over his
upstanding, jerking, thick rod. He went to pull her down onto him,
roughly, with one deep, cruel plunge, but she balanced herself with her
knees and her hands on his shoulders and eased herself down slowly until
she could feel the angry red knob of his manhood tease the tender, hot
lips of her vaginal passage.
"Just a little ... just a little," she whispered. "Just a little
at a time."
He could hardly stand his frustration, but allowed her to lower
herself onto him a little at a time, feeling the clinging, wet walls of
her hairlined pussy close tightly around his thick, pulsing rod as she
eased down on his body.
"Oh yes ... you feel so good, so good inside me," she groaned.
"That's it ... that's it, baby do it to me!" he gasped, his breath
coming rapidly and unevenly.
"I'm going to fuck you ... fuck you until you can't remember
anything else," she said.
Then with one final lunge she lowered herself completely down on
him and she could feel the very end of his rod rubbing-inside her.
Slowly she began to rotate her hips on top of him, feeling every
inch of his erect, jerking penis move inside her, filling every inch of
her. Her movements became faster and faster until he felt that he would
explode any minute. She bucked up and down on him, digging her knees
into the side of his chest, holding him tightly.
"Ooohhhhh yes ... yes ..." she moaned, feeling the well of her
orgasm about to overflow. "I'm going to cum ... I'm going to cum ...
fuck me ... FUCK ME!"
He tried to raise his hips off the mattress on the floor, but she
was slamming into him with such force that it was impossible.
"Oh do it ... do it," he commanded hotly. "I'm going to cum too!"
She could feel his prick becoming even thicker than before and she
knew that he was about to spill into her any second. She felt the
tightness and tenseness between her legs quivering and began to let
loose as she pushed down on him with all her strength.
"Here I cum," she groaned, her head tossed back, her teeth clenched
and bared like a wild mare.
As her own contractions wracked out, she could feel him jerk hotly
inside her, filling her with his flood of sperm.
It felt like they came together for hours before she rolled off the
top of him and onto the floor beside him. Other couples were making
love at various spots in the room, but no one seemed to notice or much
care what the others were doing, but each group or couple was wrapped up
in their own little orgy.
"Frankie," she said finally, "are you going to go away with me
now?"
She looked at him afraid to hear his answer, but her eyes pleading
pathetically.
"You know I can't do that, Gypsy. I've had a ball with you
tonight, but that's as far as it goes. You know that I love Cynthia."
He could have told her anything, made any excuse, but she didn't
want to hear that he was in love with another woman.
"You're going to be sorry one of these days, Frankie," she
threatened, "Mark my words."
"Let's not start that again, okay?" he said, annoyed.
She didn't answer, but got up and went into the other room to get
dressed, her stomach churning from his rejection.
Frankie lay there for just a few more minutes and then decided to
go back into the living room and see what was going on. When he got
there Al had left and Cynthia was still passed out on the floor,
sleeping soundly.
He knelt down beside her and touched her hair and face thinking how
beautiful she was and how lucky he was to have a girl like her.
The party continued for several hours, but he let her sleep,
knowing that she would probably have one hell of a headache when she
awoke. He smoked several joints and then lay down beside her. It was
about four in the morning when he woke up and reached out for her. She
curled up in his arms like a baby and kissed him on the cheek.
"So ... you're awake," he said, half-surprised.
"I've just been resting, darling," she murmured. "What time is
it?"
He looked at his watch and told her, watching for the look of
surprise on her face.
"How long have I been asleep," she asked. "Seems like I've been
floating on clouds for hours"
"I should think so. You've been passed out for over five hours.
How do you feel?"
"A little shaky, actually, but marvelous!!"
"You don't feel sick," he inquired, surprised.
"No ... no ... not at all."
"What do you say we head for home?"
"My coat's in the foyer," she said. "I'll wait here for you,
okay?"
"Sure, sweetheart. Anything you say." And he left to get her
coat.
She looked around the room to see if she could still see Carla, and
found her lying in one corner, slightly engrossed with a homosexual
young man.
"Pardon me, Carla," she said, "but can I see you for a minute?"
"Certainly ... be right there."
She followed Cynthia to another corner and asked her what was on
her mind.
"That stuff really had you out. How did you like it?" Carla asked.
"It was great. That's just it!" Cindy told her.
"Well, glad you like it kid. It's the only way to fly," she
replied and started to walk back to her faggot friend.
"No ... wait a minute," she called out.
"Yes."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I get some more
stuff from you tomorrow?"
"You like it that much, eh," she said, laughing.
"Don't kid me," she said, "I'm serious. I want to get some more!"
"Yeah, sure kid. You can get all you want, but you've got to have
the price."
Cynthia just stood there, not knowing whether to laugh or cry,
shaking.
"How much is it?" she asked, hesitantly.
"It's quite a bit, but I can get a good deal for you if you bring
cash and become a regular customer."
"Can Frankie get it for me?" she asked.
"Can I get what for you?" Frankie interrupted, walking up in back
of her.
"Your love wants to graduate to the stronger stuff, Frankie."
"Cynthia," he said, "I'll discuss this with you at home. Let's
go!"
Cynthia was almost in tears of frustration, but started to follow
him, then turned back for just a second and told Carla that she would
get in touch with her tomorrow.
Frankie grabbed her arm and almost dragged her out the door.
"Don't ever do that behind my back," he warned. "You don't know
what that stuff can do to you."
Cynthia just nodded and got into the cab he had hailed, and they
rode home in silence.
Chapter 19
The next day Frankie tried to talk her out of ever calling Carla
again, with a weak promise that if she really felt that she needed the
extra kick of heroin he would get it for her.
She knew that she would need something stronger than alcohol or pot
if she were going to have to go through with her arrangement with Fred
Johnson. She couldn't face the idea of working as a call girl for him,
or for anyone. Frankie hadn't told her that he knew about the deal with
Flanagan, he had been too concerned with her sudden interest in "H."
She got up early the next day and left a note for Frankie that she
had some errands to do that she hadn't finished the day before and went
out.
She called Shoo-Fly to get Carla's phone number and he told her
that she didn't have a phone, but that she lived in a rather sleazy
hotel on the other side of town. She didn't have much money, but she
decided to take a chance on finding her in a more congenial mood and
asking her to trust her for some of the "horse." She knew that it was a
slim chance, but she had to have some before she kept her appointment
with Johnson.
It took her about an hour to find the hotel and she hesitated
before she went in the dirty, broken down building and knocked on
Carla's door.
"Whadda ya want?" a voice called out, and she couldn't tell whether
or not it was a man's or a woman's!
"It's me ... Cynthia," she answered, "Is Carla there?"
"Well, who the hell do you think this is? Come on in, the door's
open."
Cynthia turned the knob and walked into the tiny room. Clothes
were lying around on the bed the chair and on the floor. Empty bottles
were scattered everywhere and Carla was in bed with some man who had his
face covered with the blanket, but Carla didn't seem to mind that she
had come in.
"I can come back if you want me to," she said falteringly.
"No ... no ... you're here now, what can I do for you?"
The man in the bed rolled over and buried his head under a pillow
saying, "Why don't you two shut up. I'm trying to sleep."
"That's tough," Carla retorted, "A friend came to visit me. If you
don't like it you can leave!"
"Maybe I'll do that," he grumbled and then was quiet.
"I've come to get some stuff," Cynthia volunteered reluctantly, not
sure whether or not Carla's friend knew anything about it.
"I told you last night that you need the price. Did you bring any
money?"
Cynthia told her that she didn't have much, but that she was sure
she could get more by the afternoon if she would just advance her enough
for the day.
"Frankie'll kill me if he finds out I supply you, you know," she
said, "You've got to promise not to tell him."
"I won't tell him ... honest," she answered, "In fact, don't you
tell him that I came to you for it."
"I can only get the stuff in 50.00 lots ... okay?"
"Yes ... anything, just give me enough for today and I'll have the
money this afternoon."
"How're you going to manage that?" she asked laughingly knowing
that Frankie wouldn't give her the money and that she would have to get
it somewhere else.
"That's none of your business, and what do you care anyway?" she
replied.
"I don't, really ... besides, I don't have to ask, I already have a
pretty good idea," she said, laughing knowingly.
"You know what?" Cynthia asked.
Carla didn't answer right away, but poked the man in the bed and
said, "Honey, your newest acquisition is here, wake up and say good
morning!"
The man turned over, opened his eyes and blinked, trying to adjust
them to the sunlight that was shining through the window.
Cynthia gasped, not believing what she saw. It was Johnson!
"Well, well," he said slowly, "Look what the wind brought in. You
getting on the gravy train, too?"
She didn't know whether to tell Carla to forget the whole thing and
run out, but she just stood there frozen to the spot.
Carla grinned at Cynthia, "You see, little ole' Carla does get
around some."
"Quite right, dear," Johnson said, running his hands over Carla's
full, but slightly sagging breasts.
"You see," he continued, "I keep all my girls in line this way. I
give them the dope and they give me their money. It's a convenient set
up that way, and really not so nasty."
She wanted to be sick, but instead just collapsed on the edge of
the bed, shaking.
"Carla here has been with me for some time, haven't you, and you
just love me, don't you?" he said, leering at her.
"Oh sure, baby," she answered sarcastically, "But then I really
don't have a choice."
She turned to Cynthia and said, "He has some rather strange
requests from customers from time to time, but that's all part of the
game. You'll get used to it after a while; besides, the horse will keep
you from minding too much. You really won't mind fucking a bunch of
jerks, weirdos and then some when you're flying, believe me."
Cynthia couldn't believe her ears. She didn't know that Johnson
was running a stable of girls, she thought that she was to be his
private property!
"There are a lot of tricks to this trade," Carla said, "but I'm
sure that Freddie boy will see that you're broken in properly." She
laughed maliciously, her eyes narrowing with a hatred as she spoke and
glanced down at Johnson.
Johnson didn't answer her sarcasm, but threw back the covers and
started to get out of bed, then changed his mind. He was completely
nude and Cynthia could not help but stare at the skinny, hairiness of
his body, his scrawny legs and sunken chest. Her eyes fell on his
loosely hanging genitals as he started to swing his legs over the side
of the bed. Even though his penis was soft and flaccid at the moment,
it seemed to have enormous length and looked out of proportion for the
rest of his body.
Carla caught her looking at Johnson and commented, "Oh yes, he's
quite a stud himself!" Then turning to him, "Aren't you, darling?"
He lay back again on the bed, not bothering to pull the covers up
over him and Cynthia could see a restless stirring beginning between his
legs and his limp manhood began to jerk upward, growing thicker and
larger every second.
"That's quite a build-up, Carla," he said, "Maybe I should show my
new friend here just what it's like to have a real man!"
The way he said it, she knew that he was insinuating that Frankie
was less than a competent lover and the resentment must have shown in
her face.
"Don't be so sensitive, dear," he continued, "I wouldn't want to
make you angry, especially when you're going to make me so happy!"
Cynthia turned away from him, but he grabbed her arm and spun her
body around so that she was facing him again.
"Watch!" he commanded.
He forced her to look at him while his pulsing penis grew larger
and larger, jutting up from between his legs like a cannon. She
couldn't believe the size of it, she had never seen anything quite so
large in her whole life. Frankie was amply built, but he was dwarfed by
this man!
"Quite a specimen, isn't it?" Carla interjected. "I will say that
for him."
She ran her hand over his emaciated, hairy chest and down to the
juncture between his legs, stroking the immense, thick phallus gingerly.
"Don't be so selfish, dearie," he chided, "Let Cynthia join in on
the fun."
Carla squeezed his massive penis possessively and rolled over and
pressed her flabby, aging body next to him.
"Cut it out, I told you," he said, annoyed. "Why I should let you
have all the fun when I have this beautiful young thing here just
waiting and dying to touch me, right?" he said.
Cynthia tried to get up from the bed, but his grip on her arm was
too tight and she couldn't move.
"Touch me," he commanded, pushing her hand, down on his loose
hanging testicles and over his mammoth rock hard penis. It was so thick
that she could barely close her hand around it and she stared down at
its size completely in awe.
"Kiss it," he ordered, and Carla moved down on the bed to take the
huge tool in her mouth, but he stopped her.
"Not you ... Cynthia!"
He put his hand in back of Cynthia's neck and pulled her head down
toward his body. She didn't want to make love to this man, but he did
hold a strange fascination for her, so she slid off the bed and closed
her mouth over his gigantic rod. It jerked in her mouth and she found
it difficult to keep it still with her tongue as she licked.
"Aaahhhhhhhhh," he murmured. "You have a gentle, knowing touch, my
dear."
It was almost as though he were testing her and not at all excited
about her mouthing.
She seemed to keep him in her mouth for hours, sucking harder and
harder on the erect, throbbing staff, but he still remained hard.
God, he must have the stamina of a horse, she thought to herself,
Frankie would have cum by this time, but he remained completely aloof.
She glanced up and his face was expressionless, and Carla was just
staring at her while she moved up and down on his prick, and licked her
lips in anticipation.
Finally Johnson spoke in a voice that was perfectly calm. "Take
off your clothes, I want to see your beautiful body again!" She was
completely flabbergasted, she couldn't understand what he was trying to
do, but moved her mouth away from him and began to disrobe.
Carla didn't move over to take her place, but merely looked at
Johnson questioningly.
"No," she said, "You aren't going to make her do that ... or make
me do that? You wouldn't ... not again?"
Cynthia looked up at her trying to determine just what "that" was,
but she didn't say anything, or give her any sign.
"That's right, Carla love," he said finally, "You two are going to
entertain me with your sexual prowess!"
Cynthia wasn't sure what he meant but she didn't like the sound of
his voice.
When she was completely nude, he reached out and grabbed one of her
breasts roughly, twisting it and pinching the nipple until she cried out
in pain.
"Stop it," she groaned, "you're hurting me!"
"Perhaps you'd like a more gentle lover," he said wickedly. "Well,
I've arranged exactly that for you!"
She looked at him questioningly, hoping that what she was thinking
was wrong, but she could see that she was wrong!
"Lie down here next to Carla," he ordered her, pulling her roughly
onto the bed.
"Carla, show her what a gentle lover you can be!"
She cringed back against his body when Carla began to reach to
touch her breasts.
"No ... oh God no ... I can't," she stammered, pulling away.
"You may as well get used to it, dearie," Carla said without
emotion, "He gets his own little kicks this way!"
"No ... no ... please, anything else ... but I can't do it with
another woman!" she pleaded.
He reached out and smacked her soundly on the stomach and said,
"You'll do it if you don't want to suffer the consequences, so just shut
up. You'll find out that Carla is actually a very proficient lover."
She shut her eyes tightly and her whole body stiffened as she could
feel Carla dutifully switch her position on the bed and reach out and
fondle her ripe, full breasts. Her touch was soft, and even though her
hands were quite thin and bony, her caress was light. She began to
knead the firm, supple flesh of her breasts, tweaking gently at the
nipples until they stood out proudly. Cynthia tried to pretend that it
was Frankie who was touching her, but she couldn't block the image of
Carla's face from her mind. Carla's hands then roamed down over her
belly, massaging the flesh with expertise, stimulating every nerve end
in her body.
"You see," Johnson added, "Women know so much more about their
bodies than men do. I just love to watch it!"
Carla was running her hands down the fleshy bulge of her thigh, her
fingers digging into the soft, pliant skin and gradually working their
way up to the vee between her legs.
"Ooohhhhhhhhh," she moaned as her fingers expertly found the bud of
her clitoris.
She manipulated the petite projection until it was hard and
throbbing and she was moaning softly. She couldn't believe that a woman
could cause her to react like this, it just wasn't natural!
"Play with her tits," Johnson ordered Cynthia. "I want to see you
play with her, too!"
Reluctantly Cynthia reached up and took the sagging, but full
breasts in her hands and began to massage the soft, spongy flesh. Carla
rubbed her body back and forth, trying to encourage more active play,
and her fingers searched for the tiny slit between Cynthia's legs.
Cynthia twisted her body slightly in an effort to avert this further
exploration of her body, but Carla said, "Relax, baby, it won't be so
bad!" Carla's breath was beginning to get rapid and Cynthia knew that
she was getting a real thrill out of seducing another woman. Her
fingers prodded and probed her pubis until she let one finger slide
gently into the warm passage of her vagina.
"Oooooooooh" she moaned, feeling the walls of her vagina close
neatly around the other woman's thin finger. Carla began to work her
finger back and forth inside her channel, scraping lightly with her
fingernail until she was writhing beneath her touch. When she thought
that she would not be able to take any more, Carla inserted two more
fingers and moved then back and forth like a shuttle inside her.
"Oooooohhhhhh ... ooooohhhhhh," she groaned, trying to forget that
it was a woman who was making her feel like that.
She found her own hands closing more tightly around the fleshy orbs
of Carla's breasts and running down her body, over the thickness of her
once thin dancer's waist and the plumpness of her hips.
Carla twisted beneath her caress and moved down further on the bed
so that she would have better leverage. She continued her fingering of
Cynthia's damp, clinging vagina for several more minutes before sliding
her fingers wetly out of the now hungry channel.
"Noooooo ... ooohhh ... nooooo," Cynthia moaned, bucking her hips
up off the bed as if she couldn't stand the torture.
"You've really got her going," Johnson said thickly, and she turned
her head to see him. He was lying on his side watching the spectacle,
his hands working up and down on his penis vigorously. It seemed even
larger now than before and she wondered whether or not he had some kind
of disease that would make him so swollen and large. The head of his
jerking prick was bright purple and was the size of a baby's fist! She
had never seen anything so huge in her life ... not even in her
imagination!
The weird freak, she thought in her aroused passion. I'd love to
have that inside me right now, but he gets his kicks from watching
unnatural lovemaking. She turned away from his gaze, disgusted and
frustrated, wishing that Carla would finger her again so that she could
cum, but Carla had another idea. She began running her tongue up and
down on her body, nibbling provocatively at every inch her mouth could
cover at on time, sending chills of anticipation through her body.
"Your skin is so soft," she murmured, "Sooooo ... soft."
Her breath tickled her as she spoke and she shuddered under this
new caress.
As her mouth moved down further on her body she thought that she
would explode from the aching, gnawing desire building out of control in
her loins.
"Yes ... yes ..." she groaned as she felt Carla's tongue part the
softness of her pubic hair and flick teasingly over her hard, erect
clitoris. Her teeth nipped gently at the sensitive, tender vaginal lips
and she pulled her knees back and further apart so that she would have
total, uninhibited access to her orifice. Her tongue licked the tiny
wound softly at first, then harder, probing into the tight aperture
until she thought she would scream.
"Frankie ..." she whispered, forgetting for a moment that it was a
member of her own sex that was sending this wave of wanton lust through
her body.
"No, darling, it's not Frankie," Carla moaned against the vee of
her thighs, "It's me ... Carla."
Cynthia was not listening to Carla's groans and pleadings for her
to touch her, she was too caught up in her own desperate need.
She felt a stirring next to her on the bed and she realized that
Johnson had moved up in back of Carla and was fondling her buttocks,
running his fingers deep into the crease of her rectum. Carla increased
her mouthing when he began his fingering.
"Yes ... yes ... do it, Give it to me in the rear!" she begged him.
"Fuck my ass while I'm licking Cynthia." Cynthia had been involved in
triangular love before, but it had always been when she was high and
with two male partners. This was a completely new sensation and she was
completely sober but her nerves were on fire and raged passionately
through her whole being, to the very core of her soul. She knew that
she should be fighting the perverse impulses coursing through her
unconsciously writhing body, but her need was so great that everything
else was blocked from her mind.
Johnson pulled up on Carla's hips so that her face was completely
buried down in Cynthia's loins, her whole being tingling from the touch
of her open month between her wide-spread legs. God, it was wonderful.
Her cunt tingled and throbbed, aching to be satisfied. She could feel
the tenseness increase with each lustful mouthing, but she wasn't ready
yet. She opened her eyes and watched Johnson press his giant prick
against the tiny opening of Carla's small, puckered rectum. She felt a
pang of jealousy because she wanted his monstrous tool buried in her and
not in someone else!
Carla's cheeks held him nicely and contracted with a gentle squeeze
around his pulsing prick as he shoved roughly into her.
"Aaaggghhhhhhhh ... oooohhhh God," she moaned and fell forward from
the strength of his invasion into her. For just a moment her mouth left
Cynthia while she tried to catch her balance and then struggled back
again to take her place between her open thighs. Johnson's hands
reached down around Carla's bobbing head and pressed down on the slight,
hard bulge of Cynthia's cunt and he began to finger her clitoris while
Carla mouthed at her loins like a woman gone crazy.
"Do it ... do it ..." she gasped, "Oh yes ... do it, I'm getting
closer."
Johnson rocked into Carla with steady and regular strokes, driving
his heavy piston deep into the well of her rectum. She watched his
prick disappear in strong jerks into the dim cleavage between Carla's
cheeks inciting her passion to greater and greater heights. He gritted
his teeth and tightened his hands on her hips, driving his fingers in
between Carla's mouth and her cunt. She was writhing and twisting in
sweet, delicious agony until she was on the brink of her climax!
"I'm going to cum ..." she gasped, trying to brace herself on the
bed for her final spasms! "Cum on, baby," he said, "Cum for daddy!"
It was like an explosion of fireworks as the contractions began in
her womb, shattering her whole vagina, her belly, her body.
She pushed her hips up against the maddening tongue and finger
tearing at her screaming pussy until her back ached from the strain
while she jerked out her last throes of her climax, then collapsed
totally exhausted back into the mattress.
Carla then braced her hands on the mattress on either side of her
knees and pushed back against the cruel impalement of her buttocks.
"Your ass is so tight ... so warm," the wildly humping Johnson
choked out, shoving into her with merciless velocity.
"Fuck me ... fuck me," Carla groaned, her face contorted with pain
and desperate lust. "Fuck my ass!"
"I'm going to flood you any minute," he groaned out from between
his tightly clenched teeth. "Here it is!"
Cynthia watched, completely enthralled at the spectacle in front of
her. Carla looked as if she were about to die any minute, her face
flushed and perspiring, her full, white breasts dancing down loosely
from her body as though they were about to fall off from the weight.
She reached out and touched the loose globes of bobbing flesh, pinching
them gently, curiously, as if she couldn't believe they actually
belonged to this sensually tortured body.
Johnson began to jerk wildly, yelling obscenities, begging someone
to pinch him, hit him, totally oblivious to everything around him, but
the storm bursting inside his throbbing organ. His eyes rolled around
in his head for a moment as his lewd, hot semen ricocheted wildly into
Carla's sucking rectum. Then he was still. When he was spent, the last
drop of hot, liquid sperm emptied into her anus, he moved back on his
heels watching his thick, but deflated prick slide reluctantly, with a
slight hissing sound, out of her sperm-filled rectum.
All three of them collapsed side by side on the bed, looking at
each other knowingly! It was as if they were all saying to each other,
God, but we're a bunch of freaks, but it's our secret.
One by one they got up and dressed, lit up a joint and passed it
around.
"You're going to be quite a little trick," Johnson said to her,
grinning broadly. "Yes, indeed, you're going to make a lot of money
with that body of yours!"
Chapter 20
Several weeks had passed and so far she had been able to keep her
secret involvement from Frankie. He had asked a few questions, but she
had always been able to have someone cover for her. She had been seeing
quite a bit of Carla and had graduated to taking heroin in the vein now.
Her craving was increasing with each day and she was beginning to look a
little drawn. So far, Frankie had not noticed the needle marks on her
body for she had been very careful not to "shoot" herself in the same
place too many times. He had told her that he found out about
Flanagan's plan to bust up the whole little group, with Harris as the
king pin, but so far nothing had happened so she was beginning to relax
somewhat. She had seen Harris several times since the night he made her
give the little party for his friends, but he was still generous with
her, so Frankie didn't suspect anything.
Gypsy had been around to the apartment several times since her last
visit, but she was always so drunk that it didn't bother her anymore.
Besides, she was usually so high on heroin that nothing mattered to her
anymore except her attachment for Frankie. In her sober moments she
swore that she was going to lay off the stuff and straighten up, because
if she kept on this way she was going to lose him and then lose
everything, but then she'd get another craving and go right back on the
needle. She had created a vicious circle for herself and she knew that
she had little chance for recovery from the depths of degradation to
which she had slipped. She seemed determined to destroy herself and
those around her, but it didn't matter anymore! She was actually
enjoying her playing for pay and found that she could get her kicks in
many ways, not caring whether her partner was male, female, a group, or
a gang bang. A masochistic trend was developing that she never knew
existed in her and she looked forward to the times when she had to take
physical punishment. Her skin and hair was beginning to lose its luster
and Frankie had been hounding her about her appearance.
"Do you want to end up looking like Gypsy," he told her, "Why don't
you take better care of yourself. You're becoming a slob ... a stinking
slob!"
When he would lecture her like that she would burst into a torrent
of tears and throw her arms around him and beg him to forgive her and
promise that she would try harder.
"I just can't understand it," he'd say. "You used to be so careful
about your appearance and now you don't seem to care about anything.
Sometimes I wonder if you still care for me!"
"I do love you," she implored. "Please believe me ... I do love
you and only you!"
Time had no meaning for her anymore, the days were all alike, just
one big high. A destructive high. She wandered around in a daze half
the time, but Frankie's business was hitting an all time high, so he
wasn't around as much as he used to be, so getting out to turn her
tricks to get the money for her habit was becoming easier and easier.
Carla had been generous in her supply of heroin to her but as her
cravings increased she had the feeling that Carla was cutting back on
her portions of the dope. She couldn't believe that her body was
demanding more and more of the destructive white powder.
Carla usually called each day to see if she needed another fix and
check on how her supply was holding out, but she hadn't heard from her
in a couple of days.
She opened her dresser and checked the plastic bag where she
stashed her supply. There was barely enough to get her through the day
and even that would be cutting it close. A panicky feeling shuddered
her body and she quickly checked around the apartment for any heroin
Frankie may have there for one of his contacts. She had never stolen
any of Frankie's supply because he would know right away and then she'd
be trapped but she couldn't run out, she couldn't stand that! She began
opening and closing drawers, boxes, closets at a frenzied pace, as
though she wouldn't be able to survive another moment without more
heroin. Evidently Frankie had just completed a transaction, because she
couldn't find even a trace of dope anywhere.
Hurriedly she put on her coat and ran to the elevator, tapping
impatiently on the button until the lift arrived. She ran through the
lobby and hailed a cab in front of the building, and gave him the
directions to Carla's hotel. She couldn't imagine what had happened
that Carla hadn't called her for several days, and she shook with fear
that something had happened to her and then her supply would be cut off.
She tried to put the thought from her mind, but it kept coming back no
matter how hard she tried.
The ride seemed to take forever and she wondered if there was
always that much traffic at that time of the day. When the taxi pulled
up in front of Carla's hotel she jumped out of the cab, paid him and ran
up the stairs to her room and knocked on the door. She could hear her
moving inside, but she wasn't answering the door.
"Carla," she yelled, "It's me ... Cynthia!"
Finally she heard a scuffling of feet moving towards the door and
she opened it, staring blankly at Cynthia.
"God, Carla," she gasped, "You look awful. What's the matter?"
"Got on a bum trip a few days ago. Thought Id' really done it this
time, but I feel better now."
"I wondered why you hadn't called me. I'm running short of stuff
and I need some more to get me through tomorrow," Cynthia pleaded.
"How much money you got?" Carla asked.
"Enough for one day's supply," she answered shakily, "But you know
that I can probably get some from Johnson."
"I'm afraid that even that won't do much good this week, kid," she
said half-sympathetically. "The market is tight and I could barely make
a buy big enough for myself, much less for anyone else. That's why I
didn't call, I didn't have any."
Cynthia looked at her with horror and disbelief. "But I've got to
get some. I'll go out of my mind if I can't have a fix!" She was
screaming and flailing her arms in the air like a maniac.
"I'm sorry ... honest," Carla said, "but there ain't a damn thing I
can do. I don't even know where my next fix is coming from if these
prices continue to go up."
Cynthia's mind was racing, confused and tormented, trying to think
of some way to get the money for the "H."
"Guess I'll have to go to Johnson to get it. If I get the money
and come back with it, can you fix me up then?" she implored.
"Yeah, I guess so. These pushers are getting so damned independent
that it's hard to guarantee anything when the market is like this. The
heat has been on for about a week and a few of the sources got busted,
which makes it bad all around."
Cynthia just stood there for a minute, then buttoned her coat and
left the hotel in a panicked rush.
I can't go without a fix ... I'll go out of my mind, she thought to
herself, as she searched for another taxi to take her to Johnson's. It
seemed to be ages before one stopped to pick her up and she tapped her
hands nervously on the seat as he sped through the downtown traffic to
Johnson's apartment.
The doorman recognized her when she got out of the cab and told her
that he would have to call up to Mr. Johnson first before he could let
her go up.
"Why?" she asked impatiently. "You've seen me here a hundred times
before. He'll see me."
"I know I have, miss," he replied, "but Mr. Johnson has company up
there and may not want to be disturbed. I've got to check."
She sat down on the chair in the lobby and waited while he rang
Johnson's apartment.
He turned around and handed her the house phone saying, "he wants
to talk to you ... here."
"Hello," she said, her voice quivering. "I've got to see you ...
NOW!"
"Just take it easy, sweetheart," he said, his tone cool and aloof.
"What's the big hurry?"
She knew that he probably realized that she needed money and he was
just trying to upset her by taking his sweet time and making her wait.
"Please," she begged, "I've got to see you now, right away."
"Okay ... okay," he finally relented, "but I've got someone else
here right now, hope you don't mind. In fact, it could be very
interesting. Let me talk to the doorman again." She handed the phone
to the doorman and waited for him to get the okay for her to go up.
She could hear giggling and muffled conversation as she stood
outside Johnson's door. Johnson was dressed only in a silk robe when he
answered the door to let her in. A young woman was seated on the couch
and was dressed only in her brassiere, stockings, and tiny bikini
panties.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, "but I just had to see you. I
need some money."
"Well, well," he said, "you need some money. Just what do you
expect to do to earn this advance?" he chided.
"For Christ's sake," she stammered, "you know damn well what I need
it for, so don't play games!"
"My, but you're nervous today," he continued, "it must be getting
pretty bad. This could be interesting."
He walked back to the couch and sat down, just looking at her
disinterestedly, playing with her mind.
"I'll do anything ... anything you say," she begged, walking over
to him and falling to her knees. "Just please give me some money!"
He patted the girl's knee that was sitting next to him and looked
at her quizzically.
She seemed to sense what he had in mind and nodded affirmatively at
him, grinning lasciviously.
Cynthia looked up at the both of them and sensed what it was that
he had in mind, but was too desperate to argue or say anything.
"If you want the money so badly," he continued, "you and my other
friend here are going to have to put on a little show for me. You don't
mind, do you, dear?"
She looked at him blankly, saying nothing, knowing that it wouldn't
do any good if she wanted the money.
The other girl just sat there, not seeming to care one way or the
other, but finally said, "She's very young. How did you manage to find
one like this? It will be a real pleasure!"
A pleasure, Cynthia thought, realizing that the other woman was a
real dyke!
"This is going to be very interesting," Johnson laughed. "I've
longed to see such a spectacle for a long time, and I'm going to enjoy
every minute of this."
The other woman got up from the couch and joined Cynthia on the
floor.
"You'd better take off your coat and the rest of your clothes if
you want to earn your precious money," she said, pulling at the sleeves
of her jacket.
Reluctantly, but hopelessly, Cynthia took off her coat and began to
unbutton the hooks on her blouse and skirt. Johnson and the other woman
watched, their eyes glued to the full, firm line of her breasts as they
pushed against the lace of her brassiere. The whiteness of her soft,
flaccid skin contrasted with the black lace and silk of her lingerie and
made her skin glow like oiled marble, sleek and shiny. She stood up for
a moment, letting her blouse and skirt fall carelessly on the floor as
she bent to unfasten the constricting garters of her black silk
stockings. The muscles in her legs were contracted and trembling
slightly as she continued to undress. She kicked off her shoes and let
her stockings fall around her ankles before stepping out of them. She
stood there in front of them dressed only in her brassiere and thin
panties. She could hear both of them breathing rapidly and watched
Johnson while he slipped his hand inside the sash of his robe and pulled
out his immense, erect, throbbing penis. The girl, however, had not
taken her eyes off of her! She reached out and pulled Cynthia towards
her, pushing her shoulders gently against the floor, her hands running
over the fine, firm contours of her body.
Cynthia struggled briefly against her touch, but knowing that her
money depended upon her performance, she relaxed.
"That's better," the girl murmured with a confident smile playing
across her lips. "Relax and you'll enjoy it, baby. I really know how
to turn a chick on."
The woman's hands ran skillfully over her breasts, pinching the
sensitive nipples through the cloth and urging them into erectness.
Cynthia quivered at her caress and could feel a shudder run through her
body. The woman's hands traced a sensual line down to the narrowness of
her waist, over the fullness of her hips to her firm, white thighs.
"Ooohhhh, you're so lovely," she murmured, kissing her ear and
nibbling at the base of her throat. "God, what a beautiful creature!"
Cynthia had never really gotten used to another woman making love
to her, but she knew that she didn't have any choice, still the thought
repulsed her. The woman was now reaching inside the tight elastic of
her panties, searching for the soft fur of her pubic mound and the tiny,
tender clitoris. Her fingers worked expertly until they ran over the
hardened bud of her sex and played gingerly with the pink, swollen lips
of her vagina. She fingered her for just a moment before withdrawing
her hands and concentrating her attention, once again, on her breasts.
She unhooked Cynthia's brassiere and pulled it from her shoulders so
that she could see the full, ripe, softness of her breasts. She gasped
almost inaudibly when her breasts fell into view, jiggling slightly like
two spongy melons. Immediately she closed her mouth around the white,
soft flesh, sucking and licking every inch of her voluptuous curves as
if she were about to devour them.
"Aaaggggghhhh," Cynthia moaned softly as she felt the woman gently
nip at the erect nipple of her breasts, sending a chill through her
body.
"Oh yes, my sweet," the other woman whispered, "let me make love to
you like no man ever could."
Cynthia had had her eyes tightly closed, but suddenly wondered what
Johnson was doing. She glanced over to the couch where he had stretched
himself out and was busy playing with his erect, thick tool as he
watched the girls.
He was taking turns watching them making love on the floor and then
concentrating on his jerking, pulsing penis. She wondered how someone
could get such excitement out of watching others make love. It had
stimulated her sometimes when she had seen others make love at Shoo-
Fly's parties, but only to the point where she had to join in and find a
partner for herself. She could have never reached full satisfaction
from just being an observer!
The woman's hands massaged and caressed her breasts until small red
welts appeared on her flesh where fingers had dug into the full, flaccid
mounds. She was beginning to feel a strange tingling sensation travel
through her body as the woman reached down between her legs and gently
pulled her tiny, black panties from her buttocks.
The woman leaned back and watched Cynthia's body react as she
pulled the thin, resilient material from over the round curve of her
buttocks, the firmness of her thighs and finally over her slight ankles.
She let them lie on the floor next to her feet, while she ran her hands
up over the calves of her legs, and slowly, tenderly up the inside of
her thighs.
She began to wiggle nervously as she felt a sensual tremor shake
her body as she reacted involuntarily to this woman's touch. The woman
moved up on her body and kissed her softly at first on the neck, the
throat, the ears and finally fully on the mouth. Her lips were soft and
full as they covered Cynthia's smaller and resisting mouth, but she
forced her mouth open and thrust her tongue inside, flicking in and out
like a snake. Her kiss was insistent as she nibbled gently on her lips
and ran her tongue over Cynthia's gums and teeth, forcing her own tongue
deep into her throat.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm," the woman groaned, as she sucked noisily on
Cynthia's tongue.
Cynthia stirred under her caress and in a few minutes she found
that she was returning this woman's kiss with the same passionate ardor
she would have kissed Frankie.
The woman pulled her mouth away for just a second and whispered
intimately, "That's it, dear, that's it, love me too!"
Cynthia reached up and pulled the woman back close to her, biting
teasingly on her neck and ears until they both rolled over on their
sides so that they could have freer access to each other's bodies.
The woman reached down between her legs and began to manipulate the
tender, swollen lips of her vagina, twisting them nimbly and scraping
her fingernail over the tiny, moist slit of her now throbbing passage.
"Ooohhhhhh," Cynthia moaned, raising her hips off the floor
slightly in an effort to force the woman's fingers inside her suddenly
erotically aching channel. Cynthia reached down and grabbed the woman's
breasts savagely, pulling and squeezing them like putty between her
searching fingers. Her breasts were as full as her own although they
lacked the resilience of youth, the smoothness of skin. She kneaded
them like bread, pushing and poking them into different shapes and
sizes.
"Oh yes ... yes," the woman groaned, "play with me!"
Johnson heard the gasps and moans of the girls as they tossed and
wriggled about on the floor and stopped his masturbation for just a
second to watch. He was breathing heavily as he watched the older woman
insert two fingers neatly into Cynthia's open passage and twist them
about frantically until she was begging for fulfillment.
"My lovely creatures," he breathed heavily. "You are like two wild
animals in a heated frenzy, clawing at each other for satisfaction.
Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!"
Cynthia glanced over as he spoke and noticed that he had taken off
his dressing gown and was sitting perched on the edge of the couch, his
thin hairy legs spread apart so that his huge, thick, erect cock stood
out grotesquely as though ready to attack.
Cynthia was moaning with desire now, her body tormented and longing
to be filled, filled with a man's organ that could bring her
satisfaction, but there was little hope for that.
The woman ran her thumb over her clitoris increasing the pressure
with each lunge into her vagina with her other fingers until she thought
she would go out of her mind.
"Yes ... yes ... make me cum." she begged, her body wracked with a
building lust and desire.
"You want something bigger in you?" the other woman asked hotly as
she thrust her fingers faster and deeper into her aching vaginal
channel.
"Yes ... yes I want to be fucked." Cynthia begged, helpless now to
resist the obscene advances, her thighs quivering with anticipation and
her stomach churning.
The woman looked back at Johnson and told him to get the "thing."
Cynthia didn't know what she was talking about, but Johnson beamed and
jumped up quickly and went into the other room.
When he returned he was carrying a huge, thick and long rubber
instrument in the shape of a man's penis. There were straps tied to the
sides of it and two loose rubber sacs hung down from the phallus.
God, she thought, how could anyone possibly take all that inside
them. She couldn't possibly expect me to accommodate something that
huge and hard. The woman moved away from her for just a moment taking
her fingers out of her denied vagina and started to fasten the fake
penis around her hips, then stopped. "You forgot to fill it," she said
to Johnson, and left Cynthia writhing on the floor while she walked to
the bathroom. Cynthia could hear the water running, but couldn't
imagine what she was doing. When she came back into the room, the two
sacs that had just been hanging loosely before were now bloated to a
monstrous size and it was strapped securely in place at the woman's
loins.
The organ jutted out from her hips as though it belonged there and
bobbed up and down slightly as she approached Cynthia once again. She
knelt down beside her and ran her hands over her body, Cynthia could not
take her eyes off the false, jerking prick as the woman caressed her.
"Do you like it," she asked, smiling down at her. "It's all for
you!"
Cynthia didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and reached out
to touch the monstrous instrument, not believing what she was seeing.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"It's a dildo, my dear." Johnson interrupted. "Haven't you ever
seen one before?"
She rolled her head back and forth on the carpet, signifying a
negative answer, then closed her eyes. She could feel the woman gently
pulling her legs apart, massaging and grasping the soft, warm flesh of
her thighs until her legs were almost at a 45 degree angle. She began
to manipulate the tender folds of skin around her vagina, running her
finger teasingly over and around the thin slit of her passage.
"Oooooooohhhhhhh, Aaaaaahhhhhhhh," she groaned, as she felt the
pressure in her belly begin to resurge. She could feel the woman's
hands move further down her legs until they were planted firmly on her
knees, holding them firmly apart.
She was wondering when the woman would let her feel that huge,
monstrous phallus inside her, but the waiting was so deliciously painful
that she thought she would die. She could feel the woman's hot breath
on her stomach as she lowered her face down on her body and began
nibbling and licking the smooth, slight bulge of her abdomen and down to
her pubis. She wriggled under the mouthing, and finally the woman's
mouth closed over her clitoris, her tongue flicking it menacingly,
persistently, and her teeth bit gently at the pink, sensitive lips of
her vagina.
"Oh yes ... yes ... God, yesssss" she moaned, bucking her hips
upwards so that her mouth would be able to take in all of her. "I'm so
ready ... soooooo ready," she barely whispered.
The woman seemed to enjoy taking her time, knowing that she was
torturing her into a sensual frenzy. She could hear Johnson breathing
heavily again and she looked over and saw him standing up, looking down
at them, playing with his own, erect, pulsing rod like it were a toy.
His eyes were half closed in ecstasy as he watched the two girls squirm
about on the floor, knowing that Cynthia was dying for something to be
inside her, but he wasn't going to give it to her. She would have to
wait for the other woman and the dildo!
"Please ... please ..." she gasped, reaching down and trying to
pull the other woman up further onto her so that she could feel the hard
coolness of the phony penis between her legs. She didn't know if she
could wait any longer, but the woman still held her fast while she
mouthed her erotically down between her open legs.
Finally when she thought she was about to cum, the woman moved away
from her, sensing that she was close and not wanting her to climax just
yet.
"No ... don't ... don't stop," she begged, pulling at the woman's
hair and shoulders in an effort to bring her back to her body.
"You're so hot, baby," the woman moaned, her own passions becoming
obvious. "I'm going to give it to you so that no man will ever be able
to satisfy you again!"
For the moment, Cynthia had forgotten about the extraordinary size
of the dildo. The only thing that mattered was that the burning
sensation in her loins be satisfied.
"Yes ... yes ... do it," she groaned, bringing her knees back
slightly so that her pussy was open wide and the entry would be easier.
Slowly the woman moved up onto her knees and angled the dildo
directly above Cynthia's aching, wet vagina. Gradually she lowered
herself until Cynthia could feel the hard rubber phallus push
relentlessly against the lips of her channel and attempt entry. The
head of the penis was so huge that it stretched her passage as though
she were a virgin.
"Aaaaaggggggghhhhh," she gasped. "I can't take it!"
"Just relax ... just relax," the woman encouraged her. "It will
feel soooo good."
Cynthia moaned out her surrender and brought her knees up to her
chest so that the head of the penis could split her vaginal lips easier
and move slowly inside her. She had never felt anything so thick and
hard in her life, but at least it would fill her better than the woman's
fingers!
With a forceful thrust, the woman pushed the hard, mammoth staff
deep into Cynthia's belly.
"Uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhh ... nnooooooooo," she gasped, trying to catch
her breath. "Stop ... stop." But the woman continued to push further
and further into her aching passage.
The woman rocked into her, back and forth, in and out, for several
minutes, but once the whole length and width had been taken inside her,
she stopped for just a moment to let Cynthia get adjusted to this
monstrous, new intrusion. Cynthia was breathing deep breaths, hoping
that the piercing, tearing pain that was shooting through her belly and
womb would subside. She could feel the walls of her vagina close
tightly around this rubber penis, welcoming it. It hurt her, and her
back and whole insides were on fire from the feeling that she was being
torn in half, but in a few minutes the initial pain began to subside.
When the woman thought that she had regained enough composure, she
began to thrust into her again, each time increasing the momentum of her
push, until Cynthia was churning and wriggling uncontrollably beneath
her impalement. Her vaginal walls were stretching slightly in order to
take the whole instrument, and she could feel the loose rubber sacs
banging against her upturned buttocks. They felt warm and moist, then
she realized that she must have filled them with hot water when she went
into the bathroom.
"Ooohhhhh God," she groaned as she took every hard, thick inch of
the dildo into her. "I'm so close ... so close ... fuck me harder with
it ... fuck me harder!"
The woman rearranged herself on her knees and planted her hands
firmly on the floor so that she could thrust faster and faster into the
squirming girl.
"That's it ... come on ... come on," she encouraged her, her own
breath hot and heavy.
"Yes ... yes. I'm going to cum now," she groaned.
As she could feel her vaginal muscles begin to contract around the
giant, hard-rubber prick, the woman reached in back of her and Cynthia
could feel a hot stream of warm water being emptied deep into her belly.
"Aaaggghhh," she gasped, as the warm liquid filled her insides to
overflowing.
"That's more than any man could ever give you," the woman choked,
thickly above her.
The water seemed to be continuous as she ground out her orgasm,
writhing in contorted positions that she never thought she could manage,
until her vagina quieted. The woman pulled the hard, thick tool from
her channel and rolled over next to her on the floor.
"You see," she finally said, "this penis doesn't get soft. It can
keep going as long as you want it and it can fill you with more warmth
than any man is possible of doing!" She stroked the fake penis
affectionately and stared glassy-eyed up at the ceiling.
Cynthia brought her legs tightly together, trying to ease the after
pain that was throbbing inside her. She had been stretched to painful
proportions and she was sure that she would not be able to walk for
weeks. She bent her knees and curled in a fetal position trying to
alleviate the dull pressure in her loins and belly.
"Quite a performance my dears," Johnson said finally, leering down
at them, his eyes bulging with undisguised lust from the erotic
exhibition he had just witnessed.
"You may go now," he continued, talking to the woman who had been
her lover.
"I always let you watch me," she pouted. "Why can't I stay and
watch?"
"Because I said for you to beat it," he ordered, pulling her up off
the floor.
"And put that thing back in the drawer so I'll know where to find
it again!"
Reluctantly, the woman got up and walked out of the room. She was
still curled up in a little ball when she felt Johnson ease himself down
beside her on the rug. She didn't want to make love again, her insides
hurt too much to even think of it, besides she had been completely
satisfied.
He reached out and touched her lightly, running his fingers up and
down her spine.
"No more," she begged. "I'm too sore."
"Not where I'm going to take you," he murmured, moving closer to
her and kissing the nape of her neck.
She could feel his penis hot and heavy against her hips, jerking
into the back of her thighs demandingly. She went rigid, hoping that he
would cum before he could take her, but when his arms reached around her
and grabbed her roughly by her full, rounded breasts and pulled her
backwards toward him, she knew that this wasn't likely. She was going
to earn her "fix" today and she knew it. There was no other way out.
He could feel her stiffen under his touch and whispered coarsely
into her ear, "If you want that money for your dirty habit, you'll do as
I say!" His voice was harsh and demanding, full of lust and depravity.
He was grunting like a pig as he moved his hips up in back of her,
letting his hard, swollen rod prod into the tops of her thighs and
cheeks of her buttocks. She resisted automatically, trembling at the
thought of his intention, but knowing that if he was going to take her
in that abnormal way, she would just have to submit, otherwise she
wouldn't get the money.
She felt his hips thrust at her backside and his long spear slid
forcefully between the cheeks of her buttocks. It won't fit! she
groaned piteously to herself, it's impossible, but the muscles of her
buttocks contracted against him automatically.
She felt disgusted and degraded. She had let a woman make love to
her with a horrible, obscene instrument and now this man wanted to
ravage her almost-virginal rectum. She had heard stories about people
making love that way, but she never thought that she would be faced with
the problem again after that first time Conrad had done it to her.
"Please don't," she said weakly, knowing that he wouldn't answer.
He pulled and pushed her like putty, trying to find the tiny, tight
elastic bole of her anus so that he could satisfy his own sadistic
whims.
"Relax," he commanded her, "and it won't hurt so much!"
She didn't answer him, but no matter how hard she tried, the
muscles of her buttocks would not relax against this unnatural
intrusion.
He was pressing down hotly, insistently against her and she wanted
to beg him to stop, but she couldn't. She tried to wriggle her hips
away from his pulsing organ, but each time he would pinch the nipples of
her breasts so hard that she would jerk backwards toward his thick,
pulsating cock automatically to avoid his painful touch.
His hands moved from her breasts for just a moment and slid down
between her legs, his fingers prodding at the open, aching channel of
her vagina and fingering the hard bud of her clitoris. She was still
damp with her own juices as well as from the warm water which had soaked
her, and she could feel him guide his penis forward through the backs of
her legs until his huge prick was rubbing against her vaginal slit,
oiling himself for his other entry.
She groaned in anticipation of what was about to happen and she
felt his fleshy staff move back and forth and then prod once again at
her smooth, hairless back passage. His fingers were still manipulating
her clitoris until it ached and she could feel the stab of his mammoth
prick as he thrust into the cleavage between her cheeks.
She could feel the head of his penis searching for the tiny
aperture so that he might take her there and she tried to clench her
buttocks firmly together so that his entry would be impossible. He felt
her resisting him and thrust two stubby fingers deep into the well of
her sore and aching vagina, his nails scraping the sensitive walls of
her channel.
"Ooooohhhhh," she gasped and her buttocks fell limp and flaccid.
She could feel the hot, pulsing head of his shaft move up her
crease until it was pointed directly at her tiny, virginal anus.
He can't ... he just can't ... she prayed as she felt him push
roughly against the tight opening.
She could feel him slipping in and out between her cheeks, brushing
over the tiny, minute hole and she gasped in pain as he forced the head
of his great rod inside her rectum for just a moment. She straightened
her legs and stiffened her body against the pain as she felt him trying
to enter her.
Tears of degradation and humiliation built up in her eyes and began
to roll down her cheeks. She wished that it wouldn't hurt so much,
because she needed the money and unless she cooperated, she wouldn't get
it.
She wiggled alongside him, hoping that he would think she was
trying, but actually she was trying to dislodge his first attempt at an
entry.
"Don't fight me," he warned, "or it will be harder for you!"
She could feel his erection, thick and throbbing, work its way
between her buttocks again, this time shoving fiercely at her tiny,
unyielding bole.
"Aaaggggghhh," she gasped as she felt the first inch of thick, hard
flesh force its way into her rectum. She bit her lip and tried to arch
her back away from him, but he held her fast.
He's too big, she whimpered, he'll never get it all inside.
The pain was a constant thing as he lay still for a moment, the
head of his prick buried inside her. He felt even larger than the dildo
had felt in her vagina and she couldn't move without the agony of a
stabbing pain. He pressed his hips deeper into her, rubbing and
undulating his hairy belly back and forth on her body. His hands
reached down further on her legs and forced her thighs wide apart so
that he could shove his manhood deeper and deeper into her tight,
resisting rectum.
She felt as though she were being skewered like a pig on a
barbeque, sacrificed for pleasure, but somehow deriving a raw, sensual
kind of excitement from it even though she ached. His hands began to
toy with her vagina again, urging her to react to match his own lust and
desire. He pushed into her a little further, feeling the resistance of
her tight channel with each thrust. He threw one leg over her buttocks
and hips and wrapped it around her thighs so that she was pinioned
against his every whim.
His painful penetration of her anus humiliated her, but excited her
at the same time. She was completely helpless against his massive,
cruel invasion, totally subservient to his physical demands. Her loins
were shaking with each thrust he made, pain wracking her body, but in a
masochistically pleasant way. She tried to wriggle away, but his legs
held her firmly as he inched deeper and deeper into her tight, resisting
passage with each prodding motion.
He grunted with passion as he thrust the last inch of his erect,
pulsing penis deep into her and she screamed in delicious agony.
He was thrusting in and out of her more easily now, and she could
feel the tight skin around her anus stretch forward and then outward
with each push of his hips. She could feel herself adjusting to this
new penetration and finally began to relax and push her hips back
against his in order to meet him. His fingers worked busily at her
vagina, tickling, tingling, teasing until she was beginning to feel a
new flood of desire build in her loins.
She squirmed against him with renewed interest, savoring this new
experience with sensual gusto. His penis was so rigid and thick inside
her that it was not easy for him to thrust into her with any speed, and
this only seemed to prolong the agony of desire. He was moaning and
muttering obscene oaths at her while he raped her buttocks, knowing that
he was one of the first ones to ever be inside this tight, little
passage.
"Oh baby," he groaned, "oh baby ... baby ... fuck back at me!"
Her body was shaking from the pressure of his legs, and his weight
on her, but the new, delicious wonderment had taken complete control of
her body and nothing mattered except that there was a prick inside her!
"Oh ... oh ... oh ..." she gasped as he ravaged her tight orifice,
trying to catch her breath. His penis seemed to grow even larger with
each harsh impalement, yet she didn't want him to stop.
He was so solidly crushed into her anus that she couldn't escape
even if she had wanted to! Her desire was overcoming her pain and she
didn't want him to stop this new, prodding, hot injection. She could
feel his prick begin to jerk inside her as he thrust forward and then
pulled back and she knew that he was not far from his climax, but she
wasn't quite ready.
"Wait ... wait ..." she groaned and tried to lay still for a second
so that she would not bring him to his climax so quickly.
He slid his hands over her belly and pulled her roughly to her hips
so that he was in a kneeling position, his fingers spreading the cheeks
of her buttocks even further apart. He looked down at her as he thrust
in and out of her vulnerable opening, watching his prick disappear into
the warm tunnel of her rectum. His fingers reached underneath her and
continued their fingering of her vagina until she began to rotate her
hips back against his loins with a new fury. She gasped in pain and
pleasure each time he thrust deep into her, not leaving one centimeter
of his long, thick manhood showing between her cheeks. He gripped her
tightly, reaching again around under her belly, shoving two fingers deep
into her cunt, holding her impaled in both openings.
"I'm going to die," she groaned, wantonly out of control. "Fuck me
... I'm going to die."
His penis felt as though it were swollen to ten times its size and
his hips were thrusting like a jackhammer, deep into her anus. He
rammed into her, pressing his thighs into the sides of her hips and
holding her stationary. He knew that he was about to explode in her and
that he couldn't wait much longer, so he rocked into her with all his
strength grunting and groaning for that beautiful, satisfying release.
His penis was heavy as he pounded into her for the last few times
and she moaned passionately beneath him.
"Yes ... yes ... now ... do it now," she urged him. "I'm going to
cum too."
He pulled her back onto him, plunging his rod as deep as it would
go and holding it there for just a moment before releasing her and doing
it again. He could feel the walls of her vagina begin to contract
against his fingers and he knew that she was cumming.
Suddenly he felt his loins begin to quiver and his testicles begin
to boil and he began to jerk out his orgasm, shooting the hot liquid
deep into her rectum. He rocked and writhed back and forth on her hips
like a maniac, uttering obscenities, feeling the exquisite pull on his
prick as he lunged into her with each spasm.
She was about to collapse under his weight, but he held her tightly
and on her knees until he had jerked out his last bit of sperm deep up
into her rectum and then released her. She fell, stretching out on the
floor, his body crushing down on top of her, his penis still inside her.
She rolled slightly and his once hard manhood slid easily out of
her rectum. They both lay there for a while, neither one saying
anything.
Finally, she managed to get to her feet and walk shakily to the
bathroom. When she got back he was dressed in his robe once again and
was sitting on the couch.
"May I have my money now?" she asked.
"Well, you needn't be so snippy about it, you know. I know you
enjoyed it as much as I did," he reprimanded her.
"Never mind about that," she said, her insides still aching, "May I
have my money. I need a fix."
"Sure, sure," he finally answered and handed her $100. "That
should keep you for awhile, but remember, if there's ever anything else
I can do for you, just call me." He was still laughing wickedly,
ecstatic over his humiliation and degradation he had forced her into, as
she left the apartment and walked to the elevator clinching her buttocks
tightly together to hold back the belated pain.
Chapter 21
When she arrived back at her apartment she stopped for a moment
outside the door. She heard two voices coming from inside and it took
her a minute to decide that it was Gypsy again, in one of her drunken
moods, warning Frankie and begging him to go away with her.
She put the key in the lock and tried to open the door noiselessly,
but Frankie heard her and came to the door.
"Hello darling," he said, kissing her warmly. "As you can see, we
have company."
"Yes. Hello Gypsy. Back to your old tricks again. Don't you ever
give up!"
"You're just being stupid not listening to me. The agents are
after Frankie and I got another tip today that they are going to raid
you. You'd better get out of here."
"Go to hell, will you," Frankie chimed in. "I don't care to listen
to any more of your wild stories. You're beginning to sound like a
broken record. I think that I have your speech memorized by now."
"I don't want to hear it anymore either, Gypsy, so why don't you
just leave." Cynthia ordered.
"I'm not leaving until Frankie hears me out. I just got here and I
haven't finished."
"Well, I just got here and I am leaving until you decide to let us
alone."
She turned to Frankie and told him that she would take a walk to
the store and get some things for supper and be back in a little bit.
She didn't know where she got her courage to leave them alone, but he
was finally going to settle this thing with Gypsy once and for all, and
she didn't want to be around. Just the very sight of Gypsy made her
sick.
She buttoned up her coat and went down the hall to the self-service
elevator and waited impatiently for it to appear. As the floors clicked
away she had the strange feeling that maybe she had done the wrong
thing, that maybe she should be back there with Frankie, but it was too
late now.
The elevator stopped and she walked into the empty foyer, pausing
again, debating whether or not to go back, but pushed the heavy door
open and braced herself against the chill, strong wind. The streets
were deserted, everyone was probably in their apartments eating dinner
or in the restaurants. Not a soul was in sight.
The streetlights shed a dim, blurred light on the street as she
walked trying to keep her mind off Frankie and what might be happening
back in their apartment. She began to count the streetlights, saying
the numbers out loud to herself, and when she reached fifty she started
back again, hoping by this time Gypsy would be gone.
Her feet were cold and numb from walking so she decided to take a
shortcut back to their apartment, praying that that would be the end of
Gypsy and her alcoholic rages. It didn't take her very long and within
fifteen minutes she found herself standing outside their apartment
building.
She went back up in the elevator, feeling relieved and happy that
it would all be over with Gypsy and walked eagerly down the hall,
thinking only of Frankie's warm arms and passionate lips. Outside the
door, she stopped and put her ear to the panel. There was no sound from
within. Gypsy must really have left. She turned the key, opened the
door and closed it behind her, calling out, "Frankie, I'm back!"
But instead of his cheerful voice, only an eerie silence greeted
her. She paused, a cold, sickening stone of alarm and fear in her
stomach and then ran toward the living room. As she entered, the acid
scent of gunpowder stung her nostrils. Looking about the room, her eyes
riveted with horror and unbelief; her legs became weak, she felt as
though she were going to faint and she leaned feebly against the door-
jam, clutching it for support.
With open eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, Frankie was
crumpled on the floor. From a dark bole in his chest blood had seeped
over his bathrobe, staining it a dark red, and spread out around him on
the rug.
She choked out his name in a strangled voice, tottered over and
knelt beside him. But he was already dead. Too numb with shock to cry
or to realize that he was really dead, she looked beyond him to where
Gypsy was lying on the floor, her chest slowly rising and falling in
shallow breaths, the gun a foot away from her hand. She was either in a
dead faint or in some kind of a coma.
Trembling, tense, her mind a blank, Cynthia started to get up,
reeled dizzily and fainted. When she came to a few minutes later, she
was panic-stricken, not knowing whether to call a doctor, to go for help
or to call the police. The police! Vividly she remembered Gypsy's
swearing the apartment would be raided that night. Perhaps Gypsy had
been telling the truth. She had an overwhelming impulse to flee,
blinded by the fear that she would be arrested, for she had met no one
on her solitary walk, no one to prove she hadn't been here all the time
and partaken in Frankie's murder. As she remembered the glare of hatred
in Gypsy's eyes, she was suddenly sure that Gypsy would try to implicate
her.
Stumbling as she ran, she made for the front door. Narcotic
agents! A picture of the stock of drugs Frankie had hidden in the
closet flashed across her mind. Knowing that it was a crazy idea, for
what good would it do Frankie now not to have the heroin found in his
possession, she nevertheless turned and ran into the bedroom. She
quickly dumped the capsules in her purse and started back. A snapshot
of Frankie propped up on the dresser arrested her flight. She paused
before it, a cry of bitter despair and agony on her lips, swept it off
the dresser into her purse and ran headlong out of the apartment as
though she were being chased by demons.
Still struck with a nameless terror, instead of stepping into the
elevator, she clattered down the six flights of stairs and rushed out
into the cold night. She ran blindly down the street, not thinking
where she was going. In front of her the glare of headlights swept
around the corner and raked the opposite buildings. Instinctively she
dodged into a doorway and pressed herself against the wall in the dark
shadows as the car passed. It was a police car! Her heart thumping
wildly, she peered out and saw it stop in front of their apartment
building. Three men got out. When they had disappeared into the
entrance she stepped out from the doorway. Hugging the shadows next to
the building, she sidled cautiously to the corner and around it. She
was reluctant to hail one of the few taxis which passed her for fear the
driver would remember her and connect her with the murder, so she kept
on walking, her heart a black, bottomless pit of sorrow.
She had already decided to go to Paul's. When she came to a street
which was still brightly lit by bars and nightclubs and where enough
people were on the street for her to be thought of as just another all-
night reveler, she got into a cab and gave the driver the address of a
building a block down the street from Paul's.
By the time she finally stood before his door she barely had enough
energy left to ring the buzzer. After awhile she heard his step and
then his sleepy voice calling through the door.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Cynthia" she answered weakly.
He quickly threw the door open. She had time only to see the look
of surprise on his face before she fainted into his arms.
When she woke up she was lying on the couch. Paul was anxiously
hovering over her.
"My God, Cynthia, what's happened?" he said.
She tried to speak, but her tongue couldn't seem to move in her dry
mouth.
"Here, have some brandy." Cradling her head, he raised her up so
she could take a sip. She coughed and sank back on the cushions.
"How do you feel? Better?"
She nodded.
"Tell me what's happened, darling!"
She looked up at him. As the memory of Frankie lying crumpled on
the floor came back to her, her eyes filled with tears, she blurted out
"Frankie's dead" and then broke into a wild sobbing, crying for the
first time since she had walked into their apartment a lifetime ago.
Paul pressed her head against his shoulder and waited patiently
until she had quieted down, then carried her into the bedroom, undressed
her and put her to bed.
"If you don't feel like it, don't try to tell me about it tonight,"
he said. He made her take some sleeping pills and she fell into a deep,
troubled sleep.
When she woke up it was early the next afternoon. At first she
didn't know where she was, but then she remembered the horrible events
of the night before and she called out weakly for Paul.
He hurried into the bedroom, telling her not to stir, that he would
bring her breakfast, but she was too upset to eat. As he sat on the
edge of the bed and held her hand, she told him what had happened and
they discussed what to do next.
He scratched his head, sighed and said, "I think it might have been
better, Cynthia, if you'd called the police right away. After all, you
had been out while it happened and it was obvious that it was Gypsy who
killed him. Running away like that might make you seem more suspicious
to the police, that is, not to me, darling."
"I suppose so, Paul, but it's too late now. Really, I was too
panic-stricken to know what I was doing. My only thought was to get out
of there. I was so sure that Gypsy would try to drag me into it."
"Yeah. Perhaps she would have, if she's as nuts as she sounds.
But I don't quite see how she could implicate you. After all..."
They sat in silence, looking worriedly at each other.
"Anything in the papers about it?" she asked.
"Not in the morning editions. Probably discovered it too late for
that. Maybe in the afternoon ones."
"So now what'll we do?"
"Well, for the time being, you stay right here and don't show your
nose out of doors. I'll go out and buy some papers."
He got up and started to leave. She called after him.
"Paul! I've got an ideal"
He stuck his head in the door. "What?"
"Hand me my purse a second."
She rummaged around in its depths, noted that the capsules had
disappeared and found her address book. She thumbed through it. "Here,
call this guy and ask him to come over."
"Who is it?" he said, as he took the book.
"Friend named Al. He used to be a newspaper reporter and still has
lots of friends there. Maybe he could inquire around and find out
what's going on--I mean stuff the police haven't officially let out
yet."
"Good idea," Paul said. "I'll call him up right away."
He left the apartment on the run. Cynthia burrowed down under the
blankets and began quietly weeping.
In less than an hour Paul returned with Al. Cynthia heard them
talking in the hall in low voices before they came into the bedroom.
She told Al the story, begged him to find out all he could and he left,
promising to do his best.
After he left, Paul sat across the room from her, sympathy in his
eyes, hoping that Al would come back with good news.
"You want to tell me the whole story now, Cindy," he asked softly.
"Yes, I guess it doesn't make any difference anymore ... you'll
find out all the sordid details in the paper shortly."
Tearfully she went back to the first time she had met Frankie,
telling him how full of hope she had been, so sure that she could
conquer the big city all by herself, and how it just hadn't worked out
that way.
It hurt her to remember all the good, sweet, tender times she had
had with Frankie and she broke into sobs several times before she could
get the whole story out.
"He introduced me to many people, some kooks, some influential, but
every one of them was involved in the rackets somehow."
"Sounds like you have had quite a time, but everything will be all
right now. Don't worry, I'll stick by you."
"Dear, sweet Paul. I don't know what I would have done if I
couldn't have come to you."
She told him about her involvement with Harris, the threat of
exposure, his lining her up with Johnson, the parties, the dope,
everything, not holding back any detail she could think of.
He listened in silence, not really in a state of shock, but with a
realization that these things really do happen. She looked so lost, so
helpless, that he wanted to go to her, put his arms around her and hold
her, but he knew that the timing was bad.
It was early evening before Al returned.
He dropped wearily into a chair by the bed while Paul and Cynthia
waited anxiously for what he had to say.
"Thank God I quit the newspaper racket," he said. "My feet are
killing me!"
"For God's sakes, tell us what you found out," Paul interrupted.
"Well," he said, looking seriously at Cynthia, "I'm afraid it's not
very pleasant."
They looked at him in silence.
"The papers say hardly anything about it, as I guess you know," he
went on, "only that Frankie was murdered and they're holding Gypsy." He
paused. "But I found out from some pals on the police beat that the
cops have a dragnet out for you." He stopped to light a cigarette and
took a deep drag.
"But why?" Cynthia said, "I wasn't even there when it happened"
"Yeah, I know. But Gypsy seems to have a beaut of a story. She
may be nuts but she sure can think fast. Anyway, her story is that you
were there all the time, that Frankie had just told you he was going to
leave you and go off with her."
"What?" exclaimed Cynthia, "but ..."
"Now wait a minute! Let me finish with the gruesome details ...
that he was going to go back to Gypsy and you then got so insanely
jealous and furious that you attacked Gypsy and during the scrap you
gave her a black eye--and they say she's really got a beauty. Then,
Gypsy says, she drew out her gun in self-defense against you as you were
so hysterical she was afraid you were going to kill her. Frankie
battled you apart, but you broke loose and attacked Gypsy again. She
still had the gun in her hand, with no intentions of using it,
naturally, but in the scuffle you knocked her about so hard that the gun
went off and accidentally killed Frankie. So, although she was
technically holding the gun when it went off, it was purely accidental
on her part and she's innocent of blame! It was really you who was
responsible for his death--having started the fight and knocked her
around so much it went off."
"But ... but ... but that's ridiculous!" Cynthia stammered.
"Yeah, I know. But you got anything to prove it? It's her word
against yours."
She looked at him blankly and then said, horrified, "No.
Absolutely nothing. I didn't see anyone while I was out."
"Of course, there's another thing that might back up her story," Al
said. "I mean the part about Frankie leaving you to go back to Gypsy."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's been common talk around the Club that you and Frankie
had split up, you know--or didn't you? Some were saying that you left
Frankie, others that Frankie had left you. Unfortunately, Frankie never
said anything about it, so who's to really know?"
"My God," Paul said.
"But Al!" Cynthia said. "Frankie and I made up weeks ago." She
swallowed hard and then went on in a small, broken voice, "He even said
he wanted to marry me."
"Yeah," Al said, "fat chance the cops will believe that, on top of
everything else, when you tell them you'd just been off spending a week
with Paul." They sat in silence, looking at one another.
"Well, God knows what we can do," Al said. "But you'd better hole
up here for awhile, it's as safe as anyplace, because no one knows you
know Paul. In the meantime, I'll snoop around some more and see what
else I can pick up."
He grabbed his hat and left.
Cynthia felt as though she had aged ten years in the last twenty-
four hours. Even Paul, his face white and drawn, looked years older.
Following so soon after Frankie's death, this new, apparently unsolvable
problem made her alternately burst into uncontrollable tears and then
into hysterical laughter.
In a moment of comparative calm she said to Paul, "I swear to God
if I ever get out of this mess, I'll never go back to that kind of life-
-never as long as I live! I'll never make love for money, never smoke a
joint, never shoot horse!" She smiled at him wanly. "And if I do, you
can strangle me yourself--that is, if you haven't already given me up
for lost."
It was Paul who, late that evening, thought of Conrad Harris.
"Say, what about that Harris guy? Isn't he a big cheese around
here? Maybe he could help you."
"Conrad! Of course!" she said excitedly. "Oh, Paul, get him to
come over. Right away! He'll know what to do."
"Maybe I'd better go over to his place, instead of calling. He
doesn't know me from Adam."
"Good idea. Here, I'll write him a note, saying I've got to see
him."
Paul dashed off and Cynthia waited impatiently. She slipped on
Paul's dressing gown and paced up and down the living room.
Conrad arrived, but without Paul, explaining that he wanted to see
her alone. Although he had read in the papers that Frankie had been
killed and Paul had filled in the details, she told him the story all
over again.
"And so I thought of you, Conrad," she concluded. "Can't you think
of anything to get me out of this mess? You do believe that I really
wasn't there, don't you?"
"Of course, I do, Cynthia," he said. "But I must say you're in one
sweet pickle. Nothing we can't get you out of, though." He pulled her
down on his lap. "Sit here. I can think better." He played idly with
the tassel of her robe while he stared into space, thinking deeply.
After some minutes he said slowly and thoughtfully, "Well, Cynthia,
I know a way out of this. But it might not work and it means sticking
my own neck out." He looked at her seriously. "Are you sure you didn't
see anyone while you were out walking, or anyone who'd remember you on
your way over here?"
"Positive."
"Good. Frankly, I wouldn't do this even for you--except that you
gave me that tip about that expose. That guy had gone pretty far, too
far for comfort, and if I'd found out only a few days later, it would
have been the fireworks. So ..."
"So?" she said hopefully.
"It so happens that I was alone, completely alone, last night, even
the maid was away. Now, we'll have to work out a story that mutually
checks, get the hours straight and everything." He paused. "I'll swear
that you spent the night with me."
"Oh, Conrad!" She collapsed with relief against him and kissed
him.
He patted her on the shoulder. He said, "This Gypsy babe will
probably break down and confess completely when they put the pressure on
after I swear you were with me, as, of course they'll believe me, and
not her."
"But in any case," he added, "you'd better leave Chicago for a
while. Got any money?"
She shook her head.
"I'll give you a thousand bucks, which should keep you out of sight
for awhile until this blows over."
They talked for a while, rehearsing their stories and then he said
he had to leave. She walked with him to the door. In the hall she
flung herself against his chest and kissed him, murmuring her thanks for
what he was doing.
"Forget it, baby," he said. He kissed her on the mouth.
"I guess I won't be seeing you for a while, Cynthia. How about one
for the road?"
He slipped her robe aside and ran his hands over her naked, golden
body. She closed her eyes, her heart a tight knot of sorrow as his warm
hands, passing so lightly and caressingly over her tender flesh,
reminded her of her last night with Frankie, in reality such a short
time ago, but already as though it had happened in another life.
Standing face to face, he pressed her against the wall and took out his
erect penis. As he gently kissed her he quietly nudged his member up
between her parted thighs and she held him by the shoulders and
submitted passively, keeping her eyes closed all the while, for the last
time in her life she imagined it was Frankie making love to her; that it
was he who was so lovingly kissing her, he who was so warmly sliding his
hot, thick member up the center of her being and making her rich female
juices flow, he who was so tenderly kissing away the tears which flowed
silently between her closed lids and ran down her face. After they had
both come, he kissed her lightly on the mouth, ran a hand over her
thick, blonde hair and walked out without saying a word.
True to his word, Conrad went to the police, said he had heard they
were looking for Cynthia and swore she had been with him the night of
the murder. Because he was a well-known and influential man, they
believed him without question. As he had predicted, Gypsy, confronted
with Conrad's statement, broke down and confessed that she, herself, had
killed Frankie, although she maintained until the end that Cynthia had
been there earlier, but the police only laughed at her. Shortly after
her confession she went completely insane.
Cynthia was not even called down to the police station. Conrad had
slipped the officer in charge of the case a sealed envelope, bulky with
ten dollar bills, and with a wink and hint about a Captaincy in the
police department which was unfilled, but which he implied the officer
would be handsomely suited for, had requested that Cynthia's name be
left entirely out of the affair. So even in the newspapers she was only
anonymously referred to as "the woman Frank Mahoney had been living
with."
Cynthia stayed with Paul until the case was closed, spending the
days wandering dejectedly about the apartment or for hours staring
silently out the window, her chin in her hand. Steadily she lost weight
until she looked like a thin, pale ghost.
Paul was always there in the background, a quiet, sympathetic Paul
who waited patiently for her to get over her sadness.
One day she smiled at him and said, "Well, I guess I'd better get
off your neck, Paul. You've put up with me long enough!"
"I'd like to have you on my neck for the rest of my life, Cindy,"
he said quietly.
He went to her and took her tenderly into his arms and told her all
the things that he had never been able to say before.
"I want you to marry me, sweetheart," he told her, kissing her
lightly.
"I know you're not ready to give me a definite answer yet, but why
don't you come home with me, stay with your parents for awhile, and take
it easy until you know what you want to do?"
He told her that his parents wanted him to take over the family
farm so that they could retire and that he wanted to make his life with
her.
She thought for a while and said with a slow, sweet smile, "All
right, Paul. I think I will go back home with you. It sounds so
wonderfully peaceful."
The End
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