Mary Jenkins

Innocent in Chicago Volume Two

CHAPTER ONE

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 TWO

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 THREE

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 FOUR

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 FIVE

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' 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 attache 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' 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 SIX

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' 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 SEVEN

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 EIGHT

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 NINE

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 I'd 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 TEN

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."

Content

Mary Jenkins
Innocent in Chicago Volume Two

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN