The Prostitute's Revenge
by Carole Walters 


Prologue 

CAROL WATERS is the pen name of a young woman' who worked as a prostitute 
for an international police agent. She is an admitted bi-sexual, enjoying 
the love of women as much as that of men. 

She joined the police after her co-worker and lover was killed by a 
notorious jack-the-ripper type slayer. Although she was never completely at 
home working for the police, she wanted, more than anything in the world, to 
catch this guy. 

The intercops had reason to believe he was a foreign agent. They wanted him 
almost as much as Carol. What follows is that story. 

Carol Waters 


Chapter I 

I was dreaming about Susan again. It was the same painful dream that had 
ripped through my mind during the last three years. The dream never changed. 
It was always a second by awful second replay of the day that Susan had been 
killed. I used to have this dream every time I went to sleep but in the past 
year I reached the point where it was only happening once or twice a week. 
Although I dreamed about it less, that didn't stop it from being a painful 
jolt to my brain. 

As it always did, the dream opened with Susan and me working on the streets 
of Pigalle, in Paris. 

The tricks were light that night and the two of us had been out all evening 
waiting to score. 

I glanced over toward Susan. She was about ten feet off to my right and had 
already taken off her vinyl vest. I could see the shine of sweat drip down 
her throat and run between those luscious tits. I flashed her a smile and 
she grinned back. Someone came over to talk with her. I was happy for her. I 
shouldn't have been. 

The dream shifts to a back alley. Susan is lying there in a puddle of her 
own blood. Her lower body is in shreds as if someone tried to tear out her 
in-sides through her cunt. Her tits had been sliced clean off and were 
nowhere to be found. She was dead and all of our dreams were dead. I looked 
down at her and tried to keep from crying. I wanted to touch her to hold her 
and look at the pile of ground flesh that had been my lover. 

The dream started to repeat the scene one more time. I forced myself awake 
and sat up in the bed. My body was covered with sweat and my hands were 
shaking. I reached out for my cigarettes and tried to clear my head. After 
three years I should be able to accept the fact that Susan was dead and that 
she died in such a horrible way, but I wasn't able to stop the dream. I 
didn't want to dream about how Susan died. I want to be able to dream about 
the four months before, when we were lovers. I took a drag from my cigarette 
and listened to the screaming sirens on New Yrok's streets outside my hotel 
room. I glanced at the clock next to my bed and saw it was almost four in 
the morning. Four o'clock is as good a time as any to do some deep thinking 
and remembering. I took some more smoke into my lungs and let hy mind jump 
back three and a half years to when Susan and I first met. 

I was pretty fucked up back then. I was 17 and had been on the streets for 
two years. I was really confused about hustling, about how I felt to have 
these old men sticking me with their scaly, barely hard pricks. Oh I had 
lovers I liked. I can't say that I didn't enjoy those back-seat high school 
bounces with the football players, but it wasn't enough. 

I became a whore because I needed money, but even more, I needed some new 
kicks. When I made enough to get to Paris, I decided to go big time. When 
Susan started working the street with me, I found someone I could talk with. 

She and I hit it off from the very first. There was something about her that 
attracted me. It wasn't the fact that she was young, or that she had the 
most incredibly beautiful full tits. There was just something about her, 
about the way that she spoke and thought that made me fall for her. I could 
sense that in many ways Susan was just like I used to be. We liked the same 
foods, went to the same movies, even smoked the same cigarettes. 

Since getting to Paris I had pushed dyke sex out of my mind. My body was so 
concerned with making a living that I had very little time to waste on 
girls. Now that I was getting close to Susan I found that I was thinking of 
her in sexual terms. I would spend hours while waiting for tricks thinking 
what it would be like to feel her nude body, hot next to mine. I wanted to 
touch her, to enter her body and let her nuzzle into mine. I wanted to feel 
her hard clit pushing against my tongue spilling her womanly juices down my 
throat. I wanted her to fill the emptiness that was part of me. I wanted her 
to love me and I knew that there was no way to ask her. 

I found myself looking at her body when she was looking the other way. She 
was thin, about 110 pounds. There was not a part of her body that carried 
any useless fat. But she was well shaped, full. She monopolized my thoughts. 
I knew she was straight, but I wanted her. 

I started trying to pull away from Susan. I was at the point where I was 
dreaming about her at night and waking up with my pussy wet and heaving. I 
knew that I was going to have to repress all my feelings for her or I 
wouldn't last long on the streets. We were the only two Americans here, any 
conflict and we would be deported before you could say Eiffel Tower. 

I'd been in trouble before. I left high school because I wasn't able to keep 
my cool when it came to sex. Another girl and I were bumping pussies in the 
locker room after lacrosse practice when the coach walked in. Since there 
was nothing to do but admit what we were doing (it's pretty hard to lie your 
way out when you're caught with your mouth sucking on another girl's nipple)
 I quit the team and dropped out of school. 

It had been a stupid thing, to screw when there was a chance of getting 
walked in on, but I had been hot for this girl's twat for weeks. She wanted 
to make it right then and I was so horny that I would have made it on a 
stage. 

I tried to get away from all that in Paris. I had done all right until Susan 
came along. Now all the desire and need that I had crushed out for the past 
year came flowing throughout my body. I wanted her more than I had ever 
wanted anyone. I also knew that it just wasn't sex that I wanted her for, I 
knew that I loved her. That love made it all the more painful as I tried to 
pull myself from her. 

One day Susan and I were on a small street near St. Germain. Things Were 
slow. I lit up a cigarette. I didn't want to be around Susan and yet I knew 
that I needed her near me. At one time I would have put the make on her 
right there. There was an empty "Impasse" nearby, we'd never be discovered. 
Now I was too confused in my mind to try such a thing. I was also very 
afraid of what might happen if Susan rejected any advances I might make. 

So I stood there with one hand on my hip, playing at making advances to the 
few passing men. I kept casting my eyes over toward Susan every few moments. 
I followed the lines of her body down her beautiful breasts. I could see the 
large tense nipples outlined under her tight shirt. My eyes dropped and I 
look hard at her crotch. I could just make out the lines of her lower lips 
pressed against the black cloth. I could feel myself tingle at the thought 
of her cunt. My mind started to do funny things and I was having thoughts of 
ten million tits and cunts running at me in lustful joy. I was starting to 
crack. I couldn't go on like that. I closed my eyes and leaned against the 
dirty brick building behind me. 

When I opened my eyes I saw Susan standing in front of me. I could feel the 
blood beating through my body and I knew I was covered with sweat. Susan 
looked at me. 

"You know," she said in a soft voice, "sometimes this job can really mess up 
your head. Sometimes you get screwed by so many guys that you feel like 
you're nothing but a piece of meat. What's the matter with you? You're 
treating me like the plague. You've got something you want to tell me. What 
is it?" 

I could feel my insides go cold as she talked to me. I wanted to run into 
the streets and get away from her. At the same time I wanted to hold her, to 
love her. I was shaking inside, but I screamed at her. 

"Get the fuck out of here. I don't have anything to tell you or anybody else 
in this fucking city. Just leave me alone with your goddamn problems." 

Susan stared at me. If I could destroy our friendship, maybe I could avoid a 
worse problem. I hated what I had said to her, yet it seemed like the only 
way {hat I could keep any sort of control over my feelings. I felt like I 
was going to get sick. 

Susan just kept looking at me. Her hand slashed through the air and raked me 
alongside the face. Before I could react, she hit me again and knocked me 
down. We struggled and somehow wound up in the "impasse". 

"You stupid bitch," she screamed as I tried to throw her off. "You goddamned 
stupid twat. Don't give me any of that 'get the fuck out of here' crap or 
any other shit. I know what's been going through your pretty little fucked 
up head. I've had you pegged ever since you got on the street. I've been 
waiting for you to say something about the way you feel, but you've been 
just too screwed up to say anything. You dumb cunt, don't you know I want 
you?" She dropped her head down and kissed me on the lips. 

I was too shocked to react at first. I could feel her tongue force in 
between my lips. Her mouth ground against mine and her hand pushed mine to 
the zipper on her pants. I opened it and thrust my hand inside. I worked my 
fingers down into the moist hole and felt the first few drops of liquid flow 
down my finger. I probed deeper, feeling the muscles of her cunt tighten as 
I hit the most serisetive spots. Susan's hands relaxed their grip on mine 
and the right one snaked down under my skirt. She held her lips to mine as 
she reached under my black lace panties. She lightly tickled my thrusting 
twat and moved past it to her real goal. I felt one finger slide into my 
asshole. I arched my back and felt the finger slip out. With her right hand 
she pulled my panties off and I could feel the hot tar beneath my ass. I 
kicked my panties free and started rubbing her clit as it started to throb. 
She pushed her tongue deeper into my mouth and rubbed and probed deeper. I 
let go of her cunt and brought my hand up to our lips. I poked my first two 
fingers in between our lips and into my mouth. I could taste her pussy on my 
fingers. When I pulled my fingers out they were drenched with spit. I rubbed 
the spit into Susan's hair. She shook her head and laughed. Then she lifted 
my legs spreading them wide apart. 

She put her thumb into my cunt and drove her little finger into my tight 
ass. Fire and ice exploded in me and I began to shake. She drove as deep as 
she could, somehow managing to lodge another finger in each opening. She 
began to love me with hard thrusts of her hand, filling two pits of desire 
at once. She bent over me, her tongue began a mad dance in my mouth and our 
bodies began to rock back and forth. 

My brain was running in a thousand directions. All of the questions and 
fears faded out of my mind. I forgot about the gym, about the streets, about 
everything but the fantastic sensations that were shooting through my body. 
I wrapped my arms around her but she slid away. Somehow we changed positions 
and her tongue was where her fingers had been. I could smell her joyous cunt 
in front of my face and we were soon in ecstatic 69. 

I wrapped my arms and legs around her and tried to pull her into my body. 
Our tongues were dancing an insane rhythm now. I reached back over my head 
to Susan's ass. I felt her shake as I slid a finger in. The slurping was 
faster and deeper now. I could feel her body start to tense. We were going 
to come together. I bit on her stiff clit and- FUCK!!! I jumped out of my 
bed and put my fingers in my mouth. While I had been thinking about Susan my 
cigarette had burned down to my fingers. It hurt and now I was wide awake. I 
walked into the bathroom and ran some cold water over my hand. I should know 
better than to smoke when I'm half asleep, but smoking is a reflex action 
with me. The pain started to taper off and I pulled my fingers out of the 
water. I walked back into the bedroom and looked out the window. 

Early morning New York looked back at me with a brown shine. The scene that 
looked at me was right now, not Paris of three years ago. I had to push the 
past out of my head and stay in today. The past is a dead thing and I can't 
keep living in it. One of these days I just might make a fatal mistake and 
then everything is going to be past. 

I couldn't go back to sleep and it was still too early to go out. Anyway, I 
was on call and I should wait around for the phone to come alive. Since it 
looked like it was going to be one of those long mornings, I picked up the 
case file and started to review the assignment that had been driving me up 
the wall for the past three years. 

The official name for the case is ICO3303-71599. The ICO part stands for 
International Crime Obviation, Intercops for short. I work for those guys. 
The numbers have a code meaning that I've never bothered to learn, except 
for the 99 part. That stands for murder. They call this case "the new 
Ripper". 

"Ripper" is a weak term to describe this killer. I told you what he did to 
Susan. She was neither the first nor the last. The report reads like the 
shooting script of some cheap monster film that has been produced to see how 
sick and bloody it can be. So far the killer had left no leads and damn few 
clues. What we did know was mostly guesswork. 

As best the lab and research department had been able to figure out, the 
killer was male, a woman hater, was in the employ of some foreign power, had 
money, and probably carried with him a supply of razor-edged tools. All the 
victims had their breasts removed and their genitals mutilated. Death was 
caused by loss of blood and/or traumatic snock. 

These bits of information had been gathered over the past four years from 
eleven bodies in five countries. Since all the victims had been hustlers, 
usually of the most expensive kind, it seemed logical that the killer had 
money. What made Intercop think he was connected to a foreign power was that 
the murders took place only when there was some sort of international 
conference in the city. The ICO suspected the killer was hired by someone 
not invited. I was the only one who had reported seeing the guy, but I only 
saw him for a minute, from the back. He was so ordinary looking, I could 
never pick him out again. 

As I began to sift through the papers on my lap, the phone rang. I picked it 
up and before I could say anything the speaker yelled in my ear. - "Waters," 
snapped the voice over the phone, "get moving. The Ripper has done it again, 
this time in Vienna. You've got an hour before you catch a flight out. Got 
it?" 

I told him I did and hung up. I started the water for a shower and, 
afterwards, put on my make-up. I travel light. I have one everyday suit and 
then my "work clothes", a tight little leather dress, a tighter blouse with 
a neckline so low it almost touches my navel, black-lace undies, and a thigh 
holster, which I only wear in emergencies. 

Anything else I need I can buy and charge to the ICO. You can't move fast 
with more than one suitcase, and I often need to move fast. 

I guess that there are a lot of people who couldn't live the way I do. For 
at least three weeks out of the month I'm on the move. Home this year is a 
little apartment in Amsterdam, but I really haven't had that much time to 
live in it. The Intercops make sure that the rent gets paid so I really 
don't worry. Besides the revenge aspect, I like the way I live anyway, 
because I never know where I'm going or what I'm going to be doing. If I was 
tied down as a secretary to some stuffed shirt, I'd go mad in the space of a 
month. 

I picked up my suitcase and headed for the airport. An hour later I was 
20,000 feet high and on my way to Austria. I had a seat to myself so I 
didn't worry about being next to someone who would ask me all sorts of 
stupid questions. When anybody asks me what I do for a living I tell them 
that I'm an actress. It's a good cover and gives me a reason to always be on 
the move. 

The flight to Vienna gave me a chance to catch up on some of the sleep that 
I had lost in New York. It also gave me a chance to have another one of my 
dreams. Unlike the one about Susan, this dream is a happy warm memory about 
my introduction to sex. 

The dream is very real and always starts with me walking into my friend 
Johnny's house after junior high school. Johnny wasn't home that day, but 
his father was. Johnny's father had been in the Marines during the war and 
had a strong hard body. He was about six feet two inches tall. I loved his 
crew-cut and those muscles. Sometimes, I wondered whether it was Johnny or 
his father I liked the best. 

Johnny's father said that Johnny was out shopping with his mother. He 
invited me to wait. I found that there was something every exciting about 
being alone with him, something very sexual. I began to get nervous. I 
didn't want Johnny's father to see me sweating there, yet at the same time I 
wanted to reach out and touch him, to hold him. I really didn't understand 
what the feelings meant, I just wanted to be near him. Johnny's father saw 
me turn red. He sat down next to me on the couch. I couldn't help but look 
at him. In all my thirteen years, Td never felt like this. 

Even when it's just a dream I can hear the blood pounding in my ears and 
feel my body shake the way it did. I was scared and had no idea what this 
man was going to do. I wanted to run and hide, but there was something about 
this man that kept me there. 

He brought his face closer to mine and put his lips over my lips. I felt his 
hands unbuckling my belt and opening the snap at the top of my Levi's. His 
hand crept inside and down under my white undies. I felt things start to 
explode in my mind and found myself rushing toward something I had never 
felt before. It was dreamlike, wonderful, and I was going out of my mind 
with pleasure. The feeling was so intense that even when I'm awake I can't 
fully remember what happened that day. My mind is filled with still 
photographs of his hand in my cunt, of his large throbbing cock against my 
little hands, of shooting cum which dribbled down my arm. Hundreds of 
sensual images that made that day so fantastic. 

The dream faded into clouds of memory and I could hear the flight stewardess 
telling everyone to fasten their seat belts. I woke up and strapped on my 
belt, giving my aching curit a little rub in the process. The plane went 
into approach and thirty minutes later I was sitting in the bar at the 
Vienna airport. 

I was in no real hurry to get to work and I knew that the body would keep 
until I was ready to see it. What I really needed was a drink, something to 
clear my head. A lot of people can't drink in the morning, but since I keep 
such strange hours there really is no such time as too early. I looked at 
the bartender and asked for "etwas stark" ("something strong"). I had 
forgotten that the Austrians are big drinkers but when the bartender gave me 
a water glass that was filled to the top with gin, my memory came back. I 
drank only the first two ounces, paid my tab and went out to grab a taxi. 

The cab dropped me off in front of the Usterreiches Fillmburo, the Vienna 
cover operation of ICO. I went in by a side door since the place had not yet 
opened for business. I walked into the only office with a light on and was 
hit by a voice that growled out, "My, my, if it isn't the whoring Honey 
West, Carol Waters." 

It was Ducasse, fat, ugly Ducasse, with the fucked up mind and the sick sex 
life. I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Ducasse is the type who never fails 
to say something nasty and someday he is going to end up dead. I flashed him 
a cold look and sat down. 

ICO knows all about my other profession and they don't give a damn. Ducasse 
is a different matter. He doesn't care for the way I made my money and takes 
every chance to tell me. Still, the man is one of the best men that ICO has 
and his value makes me overlook the fact that he is a total loss as a human 
being. I don't like the man, but I do have a hell of a lot of respect for 
his talent. 

Ducasse gave me a crude look and started, in his own way to brief me. "The 
body was found at about three this morning by a drunk that walked into the 
wrong room. This one is the same as all the others, death caused by loss of 
blood and shock. No trace of the girl's tits as usual and no fingerprints. 
This is starting to look like a dead case unless you've come up with some 
bright ideas." 

"Nothing new," I told him, "still no breaks. I'm going to check out the 
victim and see if I can't put something together from that." 

"She's a whore." Ducasse spat out the words. "Just one more whore that got 
her tits sliced off. She was just some hot cunt after money. Hell, Waters, 
you should know all about people like that. And you like girls too, huh? 
Maybe you've even gone to bed with this latest one. The only reason you're 
on this case is that if we find the missing tits, you'll be able to match 
them up with their owners. Ha, a new crime tool: identification by taste. 
I'll bet that-" The back of my hand across his face kept him from saying any 
more. There were red streaks where my nails had torn the flesh. 

"Listen," I spat, "I've had just about all the shit I'm going to take. You 
want to talk about my sex habits you can talk when I'm off duty. Right now 
I've got to find a killer and your sick jokes are no help." He sat down. I 
wanted to put my heel into his balls but it wouldn't have done any good. 

Ducasse waited for the color to come back into his cheeks and then said, 
"They haven't moved the body out yet, thought you might want to see it. Room 
1245 at the Hotel Aachenan Wahring Platz. Know it? The police have already 
gone over everything but you just might find something they missed. Now get 
the fuck out of here and don't bother me unless you hit on something really 
big." 

The entire floor where the body had been found was covered by police. The 
Austrians figure too many cops are better than not enough, and there must 
have been at least fifty in the hotel. I showed my ICO card and walked into 
the room. Even after seeing the same scene six times (Susan was the sixth 
victim, five were before I was on the case), it was still a shock to look at 
the body on the bed. 

The first thing that hit was the smell. The air hung thick with the odor of 
blood, cum, and cunt. There were spots of blood all around the room and it 
looked like the killer had reached into the body with both hands and brought 
everything he could out through the sex hole. There were stains oh the floor 
and walls where it looked like someone, I guess a cop, had gotten sick. I 
could understand why. 

I walked over to the body and took a look. That body had once been a very 
beautiful young woman. Not even the fact that it was now cold and dead could 
hide the fact that she was once a firm, striking woman. Her muscles had been 
well shaped and her skin had the deep kind of tan you get only at an 
expensive resort. She had been the kind of girl you thought of when you 
stroked your box before going to bed at night. 

From the neck to the feet the body was covered with open wounds that showed 
the blood. There was nothing left of what once must have been two beautiful 
breasts. She had been bound and gagged and from the impressions on her 
wrists I could tell she had tried very hard to get free. It hadn't done any 
good. 

When I saw the others after Susan, I got to thinking about what would go 
through the minds of the victims as they were being killed. I guess every 
woman of the streets has morbid thoughts about getting killed or worse and I 
came up with some very morbid thoughts of my own. To feel hard steel beneath 
your breasts perhaps while a strange prick is pumping in your body-to know 
that when he cums you are really going to die is a strange feeling. It 
wasn't the kind of thought I like to dwell on. 

After looking around the room I stepped out into the hall and lit up a 
cigarette. I took a deep puff of the bitter smoke and tried to think of the 
best way to crack this case. The victim had been a hustler and I was going 
to have to make the rounds of every street corner and red light bar in 
Vienna to find out more about her. The problem was finding some one that had 
seen her last night with the killer. 

I took another drag from my cigarette. My eyes hit upon the firm form of a 
cop on guard. He was wearing the green uniform of the city police and there 
was something about him that made me think of Johnny's father. It wasn't 
anything visual, but there seemed to be a sameness in the way he stood, the 
way he held himself. He appeared to be well built and was about 35.1 dropped 
my eyes down to his crotch to make out just a hint of his bulge against the 
front of his baggy wool pants. I sucked some more smoke into my lungs and 
thought what he would be like in bed. I wet my pants thinking of his 
pulsating tool penetrating my cunt. 

The longer I looked at him the more I knew I wanted to taste him, to lick 
the salty sweat from between his legs and feel his prick leap into my body. 
But it was hopeless. I left the building and went out into the street. 

That afternoon I sat in a "stube" sort of a cafe, by the old opera house. I 
couldn't be out on the streets -ntil late and I might as well get in some 
relaxation while I could. Vienna is a great city for just watching people 
and I was really getting into the swing of things. I drank my coffee as a 
parade of Austrian men and women went by. German speaking people are strange 
lovers and the Austrians are the oddest of the lot. Most of the men are into 
a power trip and want to make you come just to prove themselves. The women 
are a different story. 

Most Austrian women will jump at the chance to hop in bed with another woman 
as long as they get to play the lady. The first time that I was in Austria I 
picked up this girl who seemed very eager to make it. We went to my hotel 
and I licked her till she ran like a faucet. Then she pulls this ten inch 
dildo from her purse-thick and black. I thought she was going to use it on 
me. But no-she makes me strap it on and hump her like there's no tomorrow. 

Finally, I'm looking to get off myself, so I grab her hand and move it 
toward my hair hole. She leaps out of bed and says something in German that 
I didn't understand. I tried to explain that fair is fair and she should do 
for me what I didfor her, but she just left. I ended up stroking muff that 
night after she left. 

I dropped by the office and picked up the report on the last victim. Ducasse 
was out so I didn't have to put up with his inane comments for a change. The 
report was the usual collection of records, passport information and 
arrests. The victim had been Austrian. Her name was Helga Fernsprecht. She 
was twenty-two and had once been arrested in Germany for drugs. Her passport 
read like a list of the sex capitals of the world; she had even been to the 
States. The report showed that she spent a great deal of money and had no 
income although she came from a rich family. She had attended some of the 
better schools but had not been granted a degree from any of them. There was 
a note on the last page of the report that said the family had refused to 
claim the body when contacted by the police. 

It was the standard story, no clues, no traces and no personal motive that 
we could trace. The only thing left for me to do was start checking out her 
last few hours and see if I could get a lead. There were still a couple of 
hours until the bar and street action got heavy so I went back to my hotel 
and caught a few hours of sleep. 

The desk called me at nine. I took a quick shower, dressed in my "work 
clothes", had some dinner and went to work. 

The first place I went to was "Die Heisse", a swinging club that caters to 
Vienna's beautiful people. The part of the club by the bandstand is for the 
regular couples, the hookers hang out by the bar. As I walked back to the 
bar I could feel eyes all over my body. I paid for a drink and perched 
myself on a stool. This let the crowd know that I would be willing to talk 
or that I was very stupid and did not know the rules of the place. I looked 
around and smiled at no one in particular. I sipped my coy little daiquiri. 

I didn't have to wait very long. A tall slim young man, very dark, perhaps 
Spanish, came over to me and smiled. In a smooth voice he asked if he could 
speak with me. We moved over to a side table and sat down. We talked for a 
few moments until he understood that I knew the scene. He was Spanish, it 
seems, but had lived for six years in Austria. He began to tell me about the 
scene and I knew that I had touched on a good source of information. 

After he had finished telling me about all the clubs and streets where there 
was any action I pulled out a passport shot of Helga Fernsprecht and showed 
it to him. 

"Have you," I asked as his hand moved onto my thigh, "ever seen this woman?" 

He looked at the photo and then said, "Yes, many times. Helga is very well 
known and very expensive. You are looking for her?" 

"Yeah, we used to be lovers and I'm trying to find her." I felt this guy's 
hand move off my leg like it was on fire. He gave me a sick smile and then 
told me that Helga could usually be found at a club called "Chunga", near 
the Imperial Chapel. I told him I'd see him around, gave his crotch a little 
squeeze and left. 

Chunga was a riot of hands and fingers on my ass and tits as I pushed my way 
toward the bar. While Die Heisse had been mixed, this place was just whores 
and whore hunters. One hand grabbed onto a tit and I felt another reach 
between my legs. I made a quick side motion and ended up at the bar. The 
place was packed with every type of hooker from the sleeziest, to girls so 
beautiful I could come just thinking about them. If I wanted to get 
information, this was going to be the place. I ordered a martini and leaned 
on the bar. Over to one side of the room was a rather well known former 
Luftwaffen pilot with three or four young girls at his table. It looked like 
an interesting party and I wished that I wasn't on duty. The pilot caught my 
eye and smiled. I smiled back and felt a hand press up against my rear. 
Behind me stood a blond young man with a hopeful smile and an erection 
pushing hard on the front of his pants. 

"Do pardon," he said with an English accent as he tried to run a finger up 
my skirt, "hope that I'm not being a bother. Rather wild place isn't it?" 

His accent was deep London and I figured him for a bureaucrat on leave. He's 
the kind that spends fifty weeks a year without any sex and then goes wild 
as soon as he gets out of England. His type can sometimes be fun but this 
one was a bit too crude for my taste. I shook free his hand and walked away. 

On the other side of the room I cornered a waiter, slipped him 200 shillings 
and showed him the picture of Helga. The story of the murder had been 
suppressed by the police so I knew that there was a good chance that he 
would tell me anything. He looked at the picture and nodded. I gave him 
another two hundred and asked if he had seen her around last night. 

He smiled one of those cryptic Germanic grins and pointed toward the pilot. 
"Ja," he said, "Helga was with Baron Gorkoff all last night. They left to- 
gether." 

I slipped him another two hundred ane walked away. A Luftwaffe pilot had 
just as much chance of being the killer as did anyone else and I wanted to 
join his party anyway. I walked over to the bar and looked over at his 
table. He smiled at me again and waved for me to come over. I sat down next 
to him and we started to talk. 

"You speak English, yes?" When I nodded he went on. "I am Baron Gorkoff, 
flyer of planes. These are my friends, Anna, Ursula, and Gabrielle. You like 
something to drink and we all talk English together? You look good. You make 
movies? 

I took a sip of my drink and told him that I wasn't in films. Gorkoff was an 
exceptionally good looking man. His body looked tight and solid and his eyes 
had a strange insane light. I guess that any man who will fly a plane into 
battle needs to be crazy. "I should hope," he said in a suddenly clear and 
fine English accent that shocked me, "that you aren't some magazine writer 
who wants to tell the world that I like young girls just as much as I do 
planes. That would be very sad because I would like to get to know you 
somewhat closer. If you are a writer I would feel very sorry for you." 

"No," I said. "I'm probably in the same profession as your little friends 
there. I don't think that anything will stand in the way of our friendship." 
I clinked my glass to the side of his and felt his hand land on the inner 
side of my leg. 

"That makes me very happy," he told me as his fingers worked their way over 
the top of my panties. "You don't know how careful I must be. I come here 
because these are my friends and no one will cause me trouble. My people 
really couldn't understand my tastes if the word got out. I am a hero here 
and I must act like a hero. It can be sad to like little girls in Austria." 
He gave my cunt a little rub and then took his hand out. . My mind raced 
over the information I had just picked up. I not only had a suspect, I also 
had a possible motive. If Helga had tried to blackmail Gorkoff, that would 
have been reason to kill her. That didn't explain all of the other murders 
but I had already decided that Gorkoff was insane and he might have killed 
the others. Also, someone like Gorkoff had money and was able to travel. 

The five of us sat and talked and fucked around under the table. I wasn't 
going to say anything about Helga until I had some more information. For the 
time being I just sat back and enjoyed myself. The bar started to close and 
Gorkoff suggested that I might care to join him and his friends at his 
house. I told him it might be fun and we left 

 Chapter II 

We drove out to the house in his Mecedes. Gorkoff drove the same way he flew 
his plane, like a madman. His house was a massive place in the foothills of 
the Alps. It must have cost a million dollars. Gorkoff could afford it; I 
had read somewhere that he made over two million a year by lecturing and 
through private contributions of friends "still sympathetic to the cause". 

The inside of the house was filled with paintings and pictures of the pilot. 
To the right was a photo of him in front of his plane, on the left was a 
life size portrait of him in the nude with a massive erection. 

While I was looking at the portrait he came over and handed me a drink. 

"Sit down," he said, "we are going to show you a little game we play/' 

I sat down and as a reflex touched my purse where I had stored my gun. While 
I didn't expect him to pull out a straight razor, I just wanted to be on the 
safe side. I waited for something to happen and looked around the room. It 
was huge, almost large enough to land a plane in. At one end were heavy 
drapes that were drawn shut. I had no idea where Gorkoff and his girlfriends 
had gone. 

I heard the sound of a propeller and turned my head. From a door on the side 
Gorkoff and two of his playmates entered. They were all nude, Gorkoff had a 
hard-on jutting from his body. He looked like he was carrying a lance in his 
crotch. His cock stuck out a full ten inches from his body and had a massive 
round head. The girls were in all their just-post-pubescent splendor. Their 
newly budding breasts bounced as they walked. The three of them strutted 
around the far end of the room. Gorkoff looked at me, smiled and made the 
sign of the twisted cross. I smiled back. 

There was the sound of propellers again. From behind the curtains the fourth 
girl backed out. Strapped to her arms were what appeared to be pieces of an 
old propeller, filed to razor sharpness. I suddenly got an idea of what was 
going on. I was to see a dog fight. An unarmed Gorkoff, evading the pursing 
"allied forces". Just as in one of his famous exploits. The girl ran around 
the room swinging her arms. Gorkoff expertly dodged the sharp blades. The 
girl seemed to be enjoying herself as she came ever closer to slicing into 
Gorkoff s massive cock. 

"Now for the support troops!" yelled Gorkoff as he moved to the side. The 
other two girls began dodging the flailing metal. I could hear the whoosh of 
the propellers through the air. 

"Aeeiii!" one of the girls screamed and I immediately saw a tiny rivulet of 
blood flow in a line across her stomach and gather in the now matted hair at 
her crotch. Gorkoff motioned that she should leave. I saw that despite the 
blood, it was only a flesh wound. 

"The support troops cannot hold out!" yelled Gorkoff as he charged back into 
the center of the room again. He stood tall and arrogant and egged the girl 
directly toward him. Each time, he stepped easily out of the way. The girl 
with the metal on her was getting tired. I could see sweat running down her 
body. She was taking in air in great gulps and was about ready to fall over. 

The hidden recording of a propeller began again. Gorkoff walked over to 
where the wounded girl was sitting on the side. Her bleeding had just about 
stopped, but Gorkoff pressed his cock against her stomach until it stood up 
bright red. He turned and walked back to face "the plane" his cock dripping 
with blood. The girl ran toward him and he ducked catching her around the 
knees bringing her down on her back. 

Instantly he spread her legs and drove his dripping cock deep into her cunt. 
With the sharp wings tearing at the carpet Gorkoff began to move in and out 
of the young girls body. She screamed and it was impossible to tell from 
which body came the blood which shone on his prick. He pumped faster and 
harder and I saw his body shake as he filled the girl with cum. 

Gorkoff pulled himself out of the girl's cunt and stood up. He walked over 
to me and I could see white drops of cum dripping from his tool. He bowed 
from the waist and clicked his heels. 

"I have downed this plane for you." he said. 

I thanked him but I didn't know what else to say or do. Gorkoff smiled at me 
and went on. The enemy plane is now in your service, use it as you wish. 

The girl had unstrapped the metal from her arms. She crawled over to me and 
nuzzled her face under my skirt. Her hands went above her head to the tops 
of my panties and then pulled them down. My box was oven-hot, as she ran her 
hands first over the surface and then deep inside. One hand moved to my ass 
as the other probed deeper and deeper into my cunt. I leaned back in my 
chair and let the sensa- tion flow over my body. The soft rubbing of her 
hands was sensual and I started pushing hard against her hand. The girl 
groaned and began to work me more frantically. Her fingers rolled my clit 
back and forth. I rocked faster and reached for her head to pull it closer. 
I was coming and I could see my juices run down the fingers of the girl 
beneath me. 

I fell back in the chair and closed my eyes. Little jolts of electricity 
were running through my body. I sucked in a gulp of air and a mouth started 
to lick the juices from the insides of my thigh. The tongue poked in and out 
of my lap getting every drop that had oozed out. The tongue then started the 
trip up my thigh to my already wet box. The tongue had found my love button 
and began to play it back and. forth. I reached out and pushed the girl's 
face tight against my crotch. 

She began to nibble and suck and pull and I felt her choke for lack of air. 
She pulled back a bit and then began again. She still kept one finger up my 
ass and the muscles there kept tightening and loosening.in harmony with the 
waves of pleasure. Her finger went higher and deeper until I felt that she 
could have poked through and touched her tongue on one end to her finger in 
the other. She worked me faster and I couldn't hold back the juices which 
began again. She slurped greedily and then let her tongue trail out along my 
thigh. She moved down to my feet, took off my shoes and began to suck my 
toes. 

I looked over to the other side of the room and saw Gorkoff and the other 
two on the rug. They were formed in a triangle on the floor and had a 
three-way sixty nine in progress. The wounded girl sucked on Gorkoff s 
massive cock while the other girl in turn licked at her cunt. Gorkoff 
completed the triangle with his face buried in the twat of the second girl. 
While I really don't care for group sex, this looked like it might be fun. I 
pulled my toes from the girl's mouth and stood up. I took off the rest of my 
clothes and laid them down where I could reach my gun if needed. I looked 
down at the girl and asked if it would be all right to join the others. She 
looked a little hurt but moved over with me to the party on the rug. 

Gorkoff saw me walk over and pointed to my cunt and then to his own mouth. I 
shook my head and pointed down to his tool. He smiled as best he could and 
pulled himself out of his partner's mouth. He moved to the side and I got 
down on the rug. I took him into my mouth and slid my lips down toward the 
dark brown hair at the base. At the same time a pair of lips and a tongue 
started working on my own crotch. After having come two separate times in 
the last fifteen minutes I knew I wasn't ready for a third. So instead I 
concentrated on the throbbing mallet between my lips. I ran my tongue over 
the top and could taste the sweet salt of his body drip out. I placed one 
hand on his balls and the other on his shaft. I started to work him with a 
slow even stroke. I felt him grow under my lips. 

I brought him to the point of climax three times and each time I bit ever so 
slightly to forestall the final surge. When he got ready to shoot again I 
began to suck and rub his cock much faster. He grabbed my head and began to 
push into me. I drove onwards and he soon filled my mouth with a hot charge 
of salty semen. His body jerked and he withdrew his face from the cunt he'd 
been eating to let out a groan. His cum burned a hot trail down my throat 
and he fell back on the rug. I squeezed the last few drops from him and 
pulled away. 

The five of us sat on the rug and smoked cigarettes and drank wine for 
awhile. Gorkoff moved over beside me and our bodies touched while we drank. 
The pilot was a strange kind of man and I found myself starting to like him. 
His taste in games seemed a bit insane but maybe some of the games I like 
would have struck him as crazy. In a way I could understand why he 
structured the sex game after a dog fight. 

Fighting in a plane must be a very sexual feeling. Shooting down the enemy 
could be the climax. I know that sometimes when I've just missed getting 
killed, I feel a sensation like the afterglow of sex. Maybe sex and death 
are the same thing and we don't know it. To some, pain, death and sex are 
synonymous. 

When the wine was gone, Gorkof f told the others to leave. He turned and 
looked at me with a strange look in his eyes. It wasn't the kind of look 
that would make me dash for my gun. Putting his hand on mine he leaned over 
and softly kissed my lips. 

"You are a very strange person, Miss Waters. Very strange. I think that in 
many ways we are alike. Tell me, are you afraid to die?" 

My stomach went cold and I looked over to where my clothes were piled. If I 
needed it, my gun was only a second away. I didn't know what he was going to 
do but I tensed my body to spring. I looked in his eyes and said, "Death 
happens to everyone but I'm in no hurry to join the crowd." 

He leaned back on the floor and looked up toward the shadows on the walls. 
"I lived with death, it's hard to live without it. Every time I walk into my 
plane, every time I drive my car, I touch the wing of death. To know death 
puts a strange light into the eye. Your eyes have that light, Miss Waters. I 
think you have seen death." 

"I had a friend once," I started but could not finish. I only said, "Death 
is an ugly thing to me. Nothing poetic about it." 

"Ah, that is because you are an American. To me death is a very young and 
beautiful person who wants to take me in her arms and kiss me. I want the 
kiss but I also want to tease her, to make her come after me. To court me. 
Someday I will face death. No longer in a plane, but perhaps in a car, or 
here." His arm swept the room around us. "Death will take me. She will be 
tall and blonde and dressed in black and I will be her groom. For me there 
can be no other way." He dropped his hand between my legs and softly began 
to play. 

His hand felt warm and blood rushed down to my little hole. 

"Even sex," he continued, "is a touch of death. For a split second we are 
free of our bodies and taste the cool essence of nothingness. For us, 
perhaps, sex is even closer to death than we care to admit." 

My pussy was trying to get hot, but I was too busy thinking about the 
strangeness of his words. I picked up a cigarette and looked down at him. I 
took in a deep puff and let the fumes fill my lungs. I exhaled and the smoke 
made shadows on the wall. 

"I don't want to die," I said, "I know that someday I'll run into your black 
queen and there will be no way of avoiding her. That doesn't mean that I 
need to look forward to that day. Death has hurt me a lot as it is, I don't 
need any more." 

"Let us love then," he said, "and feel the joy of being alive." 

He ran his tongue up my thigh and began to nibble at my outer lips. I leaned 
back and pulled him to me. 

His tongue traced a path of saliva around my navel and onto my chest. He 
took my nipples into his mouth and kissed them, biting softly. His tongue 
found my ear and I shivered from the sensation. He worked his lips up the 
side of my face and began to kiss around my mouth. I dropped my hand down to 
his crotch but he pushed it away. His hand touched me and I felt a finger 
penetrate. We rolled over and I pressed my body down on his. My tongue 
explored his mouth, then his entered mine. His finger crept deeper into me 
and I could feel my muscles contract. He moved to mount me, but first I 
covered his penis with saliva lubricant. I slid beneath him and took hold of 
his wet shaft and guided it to the opening between my legs. I wrapped my 
legs around his body and he slowly pushed the head of his monstrous cock 
into my tight hole. 

I moaned and felt the head of his knob rub against the smooth muscles and 
slip in. I pulled him deeper and soon I could feel his loose balls knocking 
up against me. He pulled back until only the head of his cock was in my cunt 
and then pushed deep once more. I wrapped my arms around him and shoved my 
tongue into his ear. I started to move with his long slow strokes, I gasped 
each time he went in. I could sense that every nerve in his body was at the 
end of his prick. Every nerve of mine was in my cunt. Every move that he 
made sent a tiny earthquake running down my spine. Not since Susan had I 
felt such excitement, such intense desire as I did with Gorkoff. He kept 
pushing deeper and harder with each stroke and I knew he was getting ready 
to come. His fingers tore into my skin and the sharp flashes of pain pushed 
me even higher. Everything faded from my mind except the mad pleasure that 
was filling my body. He broke his rhythmic stroke and began to shove himself 
into me like a madman. I could feel a bomb go off in my womb and he rushed 
into me like the sea. 

A white blaze of light tore through my mind and a host of new sensations 
flowed over me. I was floating, turning over in space without form or shape. 
Colors flashed behind my eyes and a roar filled my ears. I shot away from 
the earth as I felt Gorkoff shoot inside me. The universe began to spin and 
a deep rich blackness wrapped around me. 

It must have been an hour before we moved again. He had gone limp inside of 
me and his prick slowly slid from my body. I filled my lungs with air and 
held it in and then slowly let my lungs go empty. I moved my hand down his 
hard body and kissed him. I didn't want to talk, to say anything that might 
remove the feeling that filled the room. Dreams danced on the ceiling and my 
body felt warm and good. Gorkoff laid his head against my breasts and began 
to talk. 

"Did you see her?" he asked in a low voice, "Did you hear the wings of her 
black body in your ears? I saw her near me and smelled her sweet dry breath 
on my face. Someday soon she is going to kiss me and all of this will be 
over." 

My fingertips danced over his chest. I really didn't want to talk but I knew 
that it was important that I did. "I don't know what I saw," I whispered. 
"All I know is that I went somewhere I've never been." We laid still for a 
while longer and then Gorkoff got up. He left the room and came back with a 
bottle of wine. We drank from the bottle without glasses, in silence. As the 
sun was starting to creep into the house Gorkoff picked up a cigarette and 
took a cloud of smoke into his lungs. He handed the cigarette to me and as I 
took a puff the world seemed to grow real again. The warmness seeped out of 
me and I was back on the ground again. 

"You know," he told me, "you are a woman and I am a man. If I did not love 
death so much we could be lovers. You say you are a prostitute, yet you ask 
for no money. The girls I keep here are real whores. When I die they will 
find another man to take care of them. They love me because I pay them and 
because I was a great pilot. Lest night you loved me because you wanted to, 
because you felt something of me inside of you. That is how it should be. 
Because I could love you and you me, we must not see each other for a long 
time. I can die at any time and I feel that somehow you are the same. I 
think that the pain that might come from our relationship would be very 
strong. I may love death but I have no need of pain." He leaned over and 
kissed me. The kiss was soft and had goodbye written all over it. He stood 
up and stretched his body and said in a brisk voice. "I hope that you will 
join me for some breakfast. If you want to wash there is a bathroom off to 
the right." He turned and walked out of the room. 

I spent a long time in the shower running first hot, then cold water over 
myself. While I dried myself I thought about what a louse I sometimes had. 
to be in my job. I had come out here to see if Gorkoff was a killer and for 
no other reason. What had happened between us was a wonderful and a very 
deep thing but that could not stop me from doing my job. After our talk 
about death I still had the feeling that he might just be the man that I was 
looking for. I still had to find out what he knew about Helga Fernsprecht 
and I had to find out soon. I told myself that even the Boston Strangler 
might e been great in bed and a deep and feeling person. Such traits didn't 
stop him from being a savage killer. I had to think the same about Gorkoff. 

Breakfast was served on the patio and I noticed his three girls did all the 
cooking and rework. At the table Gorkoff was witty and :ed but there was no 
hint of the feeling that had there during the night. He was a prime exam- 
pie of the rich urban Austrian with an honored guest and nothing more. Even 
this struck me as strange since his public image is that of a brave, but 
rather stupid character that has made good. From the way that he spoke 
English and carried himself I got the feeling that he had come from a rich 
and old family. His early life didn't concern me that much, I needed to find 
out what he had been doing during the last three days. I dipped the end of 
my roll into my coffee and asked in an offhand manner, "By the way, a friend 
of mine told me about a young woman in Vienna that is supposed to be a lot 
of fun. Maybe you know her and could tell me if it is worth my time to meet 
her. 

When I told Gorkoff the name he paled and almost dropped his coffee. "Ah, 
that girl is a tramp. A cunt. She is the kind that looks at her body in a 
mirror and makes love with her hand. Don't waste your time with her, she'll 
only cause you trouble." "Sounds like you know her pretty well," I answered. 
"Is she really that bad?" 

"What I tell you now is between us. I have known her for a long time, even 
had her out here. Two nights ago she joined us at Chunga. She told me that 
she wanted to come out here and be a plane for me. While we are driving here 
she tells me that the American magazines would pay her a lot of money for 
telling them what it was like to sleep with me. She wanted me, me to pay her 
not to talk. Gorkoff does not pay for blackmail and I told her so. I told 
her that no one would take the word of a whore over the word of a great 
fighter pilot. I stopped the car and made her get out. That's why I asked 
you if you were a magazine writer last night. No, it is much better if you 
leave her alone. I doubt if she is still in Vienna, I told her I would shoot 
her down like a jet if she causes me any trouble." 

Back in my hotel room I sat down and did some heavy thinking. I had a 
suspect, a motive and the opportunity to do the killing. Gorkoffs frame of 
mind was such that he might just pick as bloody a method as had been used on 
Helga. At the same time I had spent the night with a man who was tender and 
almost mystical in the way he made love. I couldn't fit the two together and 
at the same time I could see a strong relationship. I wanted to forget the 
entire thing and quit the case, but then I remembered Susan and knew I 
couldn't. I had a job to do, a killer to find and Susan's memory bound me to 
do it. Still, how do you turn in the first man that made you feel love in 
over three years? I sat and looked at the telephone and wondered what the 
hell to do. 

I thought about a lot of things during the next two hours. I tend to act on 
instinct and right then my instinct was a screwed over mess. No matter what 
I did I was fucking over something or someone that I cared for. I leaned 
back on the bed and looking in my mind under Choice: Moral, Difficult. I 
found that part of my mind to be fairly empty, but what I did find was 
something that I had suppressed along with a lot of other things. 

The scene that popped into my head was a thing that happened during the 
short time I spent in jail in New York. I was busted for streetwalking. 

I was asleep in my bunk when I woke up and saw a shadow by the side of me. 
The shadow moved up to my face and in the dim light I could see that it was 
Marsha. To have called Marsha a cunt was to have insulted a rather nice part 
of the human body. She was a scum-bag, a used rubber that had learned to 
walk. I wondered what the hell she wanted. 

"Hey Carol," she whispered, "want to have some fun? Come on down to the 
floor and see what we've got," I swung down from my bunk. On the floor were 
about ten women, the entire occupants from our overcrowded cell. They were 
in a circle and the hot smell of female bodies hit my nose as I walked over 
to the women. Standing in the center of the circle were two women: Jane, a 
tough bitch with arms of steel, and Tina, a small girl from the suburbs 
busted for marijuana. Jane was holding Tina by the neck and pushing her 
facedown, with her other hand she pulled down her own white panties and 
forced Tina toward her box. I looked around the circle and noticed at least 
half the girls were rubbing themselves in anticipation. 

Jane looked around with a glazed, animal-like stare and then shoved her twat 
into Tina's face. Tina started to gag and Jane rammed a knee into her gut. 
Tina started to slurp gently. Jane grunted like a pig and a bit of saliva 
dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She looked like a woman who had just 
found the end of a rainbow. 

"Eat my cunt, you little muff diver," she grunted. "You want to have my cunt 
and you can eat all the cunts in this room. I'll teach you to try and finger 
me while I'm in the shower. You'll eat out the entire cell and then we are 
going to coke bottle you until you bleed." 

Tina jerked her head back and Jane slammed her with her fist. "That did it," 
the big woman said, "now I'm really going to rip you open." She jerked down 
Tina's shorts and someone handed her a coke bottle. Tina started to cry and 
beg. I felt myself start to get sick and a cold anger built up in my gut. I 
pushed my way into the center of the ring and looked down at Jane. 

"Let her go," I spoke in a cold voice. 

"Hoho, the pretty lady wants to get her twat licked first. Fuck off, Waters, 
the first one in that little cunt will be me." 

I grabbed Jane by the hair and pulled. "Nobody is going to fuck anybody with 
anything tonight unless it's me-fucking you up. Now," I pulled harder, "let 
her go." 

Jane let her go before I pulled her over on to the floor. No one made a 
move. Jane glared at me and snarled. "What's the matter, Waters? You don't 
want anybody getting off on your own personal piece? Shit, you may be a 
tough cutie, but I think you're just as much a cunt licker as she is. Is 
that it, you a cunt licking little dyke like her?" 

I stared at her ugly face for a second and then put my foot in it. She 
slammed into the wall and fell down on the floor. I wanted to kill her for 
doing what she did to Tina and while she was getting back up I said, "I 
think you're the dyke in this cell, Jane. After all, you were the one that 
wanted to get eaten out, you're the one that was going to fuck her with that 
glass dildo. Hell, what were you going to do, let us stick that bottle in 
your ass while she ate you out?" 

Jane sprang at me like some kind of beast just the way I hoped she would. 
What she had done to Tina made me want to bite her tits off. Nobody had the 
right to force somebody to do something and Jane was going to learn that 
very fast. I drove a foot right into her crotch. She doubled over and I 
jumped onto her back digging my nails into her tits. She fell on the floor. 
Before she could move I sunk my teeth into her neck. 

She tried to throw me off like a bull tries to throw off those colored barbs 
they stick into his skin. I held tight until she grew tired and sank to her 
knees, crying. 

Back in my bunk I thought about what I had done. If I had any sense I would 
have just let Jane and the others have their kicks with Tina. Una was a girl 
lover and everyone knew it. She would stand around in the showers and stare 
at the rest of the women. She was always talking about what big tits some of 
the girls had and I was surprised that it had taken her this long to put the 
make on somebody. Hell, it was probably her big dream that she would get 
gang-fucked by ten women and I had gone and ruined her chance. Still, the 
tiling didn't seem right to me, sex isn't a side show. What I had seen had 
made me sick and I had done something about it. It may have been stupid but 
it felt right. 

I sat up in bed and took another cigarette. The choice I had made that night 
had been the right one for me. As I puffed on my cigarette I remembered 
other choices that hadn't come out right. 

I got off the bed and walked over to the window. I knew what I was going to 
have to do and the idea didn't make me happy. I picked up the phone and 
called Ducasse. When I told him I had a suspect he was happy. When I told 
him the name, he shit. 

"What the fuck are you telling me!" he yelled over the phone. "Don't you 
know that Gorkoff is the most popular man in Austria? Something like this 
just might start another war. Has your whoring brain gone soft from too much 
twat juice? Waters, you're mad." 

Ducasse might not like it but there were too many facts to ignore. I told 
him that I was on my way and to pull everything that he had on Gorkoff, the 
works. I hung up the phone and stood still for a moment. There was a cold 
feeling inside me that was going to take a long time to go away. I slammed 
the door on my way out. 

His face was flushed red with anger, but Ducasse had the file on Gorkoff on 
his desk when I got there. While Ducasse went to communications to see if 
the Inter-cop International file had arrived, I looked over the local one. 
As I had suspected, Gorkoff was not the simple farm boy that made good. His 
father had held a high post in the government and his mother had a long list 
of titles after her name. Both parents had been killed in an auto wreck in 
1955. Gorkoff had gone to school in England and France. Studying to be a 
doctor, he had dropped out before getting his degree. His taste for young 
girls was noted and there was also a notation that his sex habits went 
beyond the usual limits. There was no arrest record but a man with his money 
wouldn't have one. His life was a cold sheet for reports in my hand and I 
felt a little sorry for him. 

Ducasse came back into the office with a teletype sheet. ICO International 
had sent a list of every hotel and country that Ducasse had been in during 
the last year. There was also a list of-all the missions he had flown in the 
war, as well as all the one-day pleasure flights he had taken since then. 
ICO can produce the same list on anyone in Europe. I put the list next to a 
list of murders and felt my stomach knot up. 

Ducasse looked at the two and let out a low laugh. "Looks like you hit it on 
the head. In each case he was no more than a hundred miles away. The way he 
drives he could cover that in an hour. From his file he seems to be the kind 
of freak that would kill in an ugly way. Waters, I think you've got an 
inborn talent for finding perverts." 

"Ducasse!!!" I screamed at him, "shut your fucking mouth!" I wanted to cut 
his balls off and watch him bleed. "You're a bigger freak than he can ever 
hope to be. Why don't you go die?" 

For the first time since I had met him, Ducasse acted like a human being. In 
a voice that was surprisingly soft and understanding he spoke. "Look, I know 
that this job can really get to you. The pressure is fantastic and we all 
have to do things we don't want to do. Let me run the rest of this through 
and I'll call you when I get a pattern. Go back to your hotel and get some 
sleep." 

It was four hours later and twice as many brandies before I fell into bed. 
Drunk on the cheap drink I got very sick. After some time in the bathroom I 
was better. I lay down and tried to rest. 

Drunk dreams played hell with me all night long. I saw Gorkoff coming at me 
with his steel propeller. I dreamed about Susan, and saw her running from 
Gorkoff who slashed at her as she ran. There were dreams about Gorkoff, 
Susan and me making love while a black queen stood by and watched. There 
were also dreams of bodies that had been ripped and chewed by some great 
machine with steel blades. I woke up feeling cold and dead. I cried myself 
back to sleep. The next morning I looked and felt like hell. 

Ducasse called after I had been awake for about an hour. His mood was back 
to his normal gross self and he hit me with half a dozen insults before I 
had a chance to think. 

The pattern seems to check out," he said, 'Tve sent the report in and they 
are going to look at it. There are some political points that they are going 
to have a problem with, but I think that we'll get the go ahead in a couple 
days. Look, why don't you take the next three days off and have some fun. 
I'll cover this end for you." 

I told him that Fd think about it and hung up. There really wasn't anything 
I wanted to do but it would help to move around and keep busy. After a very 
light breakfast I went out for a walk. 

Toward the middle of the day I ended up in the Vienna museum looking at the 
paintings. Most of what I saw failed to make any impression on my mind. It 
wasn't until I started to look at some of the things by Rembrandt that 
feeling moved back into me. 

Rembrandt had the kind of eye that was able to capture the shadow side of 
all that he saw. His paintings pulled me in and I was in a world of 
darkness. I must have looked at those things for a couple of hours, my mind 
in just as much a fog as the obscurity of the things he painted. I left with 
the dark taste of something sick in my mouth. 

There is a park across from the museum. I sat there and had a glass of 
German beer. Everything seemed flat and stale and I knew I was going through 
the same depression that hit when Susan died. I also knew that if I didn't 
snap out of it I was headed nowhere. I drank beer and forced myself back to 
my hotel. 

I took a shower and put on my "work clothes", only it wasn't work I wanted. 
I'd give it away tonight,' just to get my mind off of what was happening. 

I went to the outrageously expensive Palais Auersperg for dinner. I gorged 
myself including champagne and caviar. Afterwards I felt full and a hell of 
a lot better. 

The night life in Austria doesn't start until around eleven and there was 
still an hour to kill before then. I took a walk around the Brun gardens and 
then caught a taxi to Die Heisse. 

When I walked in, the place was packed. A jazz group was letting loose and 
the entire club had a mellow feel to it. I picked up a daiquiri at the bar 
and let the cool sound from the stage hit my ears. I was deep into the music 
when somebody touched my arm. I turned and saw the man who had told me I 
could find Helga at Chunga. He gave a short bow and smiled at me. Through 
almost perfect teeth he asked if I had found my "lover". I said she had left 
town. He pointed out that it is a shame to be alone and I agreed with him. 
We moved over to a side table and sat down. 

We started to talk and soon I was sorry that I hadn't been a little nicer to 
him the last time. We talked about the three national pastimes in Austria: 
food, sex and the war. We also talked about ourselves. I gave him my usual 
actress cover story and he told me he worked for the American Embassy as a 
translator. He was a nice kind of guy who wasn't too exciting but also 
wasn't pushy. He was hopeful that there might be some action between us but 
he wasn't going to push his luck. We sat and talked until the bar shut down 
and he asked if I would care to continue drinking at his place. 

He had a small apartment near my hotel and we sat there and drank for 
another hour before he suggested that we go to bed. He was waiting, I knew, 
for me to make the first move-Austrians are sometimes weird that way. This 
time, however, I just wanted to let someone else do all the work. I don't 
think he had an idea when we got to bed that I would be so passive. It shook 
him when I whispered in his ear, "Fuck me." 

He had a little trouble getting an erection and I had to give him head to 
get it started. It was a handsome shaft and I guided it into my body. I 
closed my eyes and let the warm throb of him fill me. The slow rhythm of his 
lovemaking sent a needed thrill through my cunt and my nerves began to 
settle. I felt him explode his semen into my womb and I pulled him close to 
me. He almost looked shocked when it happened. 

I pulled his cock out of me and pushed him on his back. I took his limp wet 
joint in my hand and rubbed it stiff. When I dropped my lips over the head 
he called out the name of some old Norse god. I could taste my own cunt 
mixed with the sweat and cum still on his cock. I swallowed him to the root. 
My lips touched the top of his balls and I kissed them. He moaned and jerked 
on the bed. He let loose again and my mouth was filled. It was as if I 
myself had come. I went to sleep with my lips touching his soft organ. 

He was still asleep when I woke up. Leaving him a note that said I had gone 
to Paris and would call when I got back. I didn't want to hurt him and I 
knew that if I saw him again he would expect me to be the same because I had 
used him and he knew it. My need to be loved, to be held was great and he 
just happened to be there at the right time. If I saw him again he would 
start talking about living together. It was better for him to dream about 
what might have happened if I had called him back. This way we both got what 
we needed and nobody got hurt. Kissing his cheek I left. 

I spent the next two days just being a tourist. I slept alone both nights 
and by the time Ducasse called I was feeling pretty good. He was in a hurry 
and didn't have time to be nasty. Paris had agreed with my findings and had 
a tail on Gorkoff. Due to his fame it had been planned not to pick him up 
until the end of next week. He had three major public appearances ahead of 
him and people would be extremely suspicious if he didn't show. As soon as 
the speaking season ended he would be picked up by the State Police and 
questioned about Helga Fernsprecht. From there ICO would take over and see 
what they could get from him. It was all very dry and official and some of 
the sickness moved in my stomach. I told Ducasse that I hope he rotted from 
the clap before I saw him again and hung up the phone. 

I had a long slow cigarette and packed my bag. I called the airport and got 
a seat on the next flight to Amsterdam. My three weeks were up and there was 
a whole week of doing nothing but feeling good. I crushed out my cigarette 
and left for the airport. 

 Chapter III 

The air around Amsterdam smells like a hot box on cold sheets. The soft salt 
odor of the city hit me as I got off the plane. It was early afternoon and I 
had seven days and nights ahead of me with nothing to do but forget Vienna. 
I made a few plans in my head that would shake everything that had happened 
out as the taxi drove toward my apartment. 

Amsterdam is a riot on the streets. Bicycles outnumber cars about five to 
one and the streets are filled with people on two wheels. Around five at 
night it is impossible to drive when all the bikes are out. That's the time 
when I like to just stand around on the streets and watch the circus. 
Amsterdam is unlike any other city in the world and I love it. 

I bounced up the stairs to my apartment and walked in. The place was just 
like I left it, which means that ICO was going to have to get me a new maid. 
The place hadn't been dusted and there were dirty dishes in the sink and the 
bed was a mess. I grabbed for the phone and called the maid's number. After 
a minute of hearing the phone buzz I hung up and looked at the apartment. I 
wasn't going to do much today but get this place cleaned up. While I dusted 
and mopped I thought about how nice it might be to have a lover that was the 
home type. That way I wouldn't have to worry about maid's taking off or 
coming back to a mess. 

It would be nice but it is something that isn't going to happen for a long 
time. As much as I would like to have a lover that I could live with, it 
would be nearly impossible to find a man who would play housewife for a 
secret agent girl. And should I find such a man it would just be too unfair 
anyway. I'm gone at least three weeks out of the month. When I'm out on the 
job there is always the chance that I'll be killed. There is just too much 
danger of hurting somebody else so I live alone with very few ties to keep 
me down. 

After about three hours of hot, hard work I have the place clean to the 
point that I could have someone over without looking like I live in a 
pig-pen. I pulled the last bottle of gin out of the icebox and sat down and 
let the cold liquid slide down my throat. I took out a cigarette and got to 
thinking about how to spend my week. 

This time, I told myself I was going to get to some of the art museums that 
pepper the city of Amsterdam. In one place downtown there were more than two 
hundred paintings by Van Gogh and I had never been there. There are people 
who have lived in Amsterdam all their lives and never have seen them, but I 
made sure that I would have the time to get my box down there. One of the 
reasons I came to Europe was to be close to some of the great art of the 
world. There was no excuse for me not to get out and see some of the things 
that brought me to this place. 

The problem with living in Europe is that it soon just becomes a place to 
live. After the newness wears off, you find that the city you're in is just 
a city and your mind is wrapped up in making money, getting laid and fucking 
off. You stop thinking of the city as a place where you live. It's a bad 
habit to have but it is the only way to function. 

I took another puff and also told myself that I was going to get some 
letters off this week. Hell, half the people that I know must think I'm dead 
since I never write. Letters are dead things to me and I really don't like 
to write them. If it wasn't for the fact that my mother calls the Red Cross 
when I don't let her know I'm still alive, I'd never even send her a letter. 
The phone is just so much better than paper. 

I went in, and filled the tub with hot water and plopped my cunt down. I 
picked up the cloth and scrubbed myself getting all the dirt and crud of the 
last three weeks off my body. I don't care how great the bathroom is in a 
hotel, the only place that I can really get clean is my own tub. I rubbed 
myself pink and stretched out in the tub and closed my eyes. When I woke up 
the water in the bath was almost opaque. My cunt itched from the water and 
the skin on my tits was as wrinkled as a morning bedsheet. I showered the 
residue off and jumped out cursing my habit of sleeping in the tub. 

My stomach let me know that it was not only cold, but empty. Time to eat. I 
dressed, headed for a little cafe on Leidseplein. They do fantastic things 
to beef. The cafe was almost empty. I ate like a dog. With my stomach now 
filled with a half a pound of good steak and a bottle of wine I went out for 
a walk. 

I saw whores of both sexes as I walked along the canal. Amsterdam is a wide 
open city and you can find whatever you need to turn you on. Sex and dope 
are big money in the town and the police really don't give a shit what goes 
on so long as you do it to yourself and not to other people. As long as you 
are cool about your trip, the cops will leave you alone. 

My mind was feeling pretty loose and I found that I was walking toward the 
Wanda Club. I wasn't really sure if the Wanda offered the type of relaxation 
that I was looking for, but there was always something wild going on there. 
The Wanda is the toughest dyke bar in Holland. Anything goes there and I 
think there may be a house rule against saying "no" to any offer that comes 
your way. It isn't the kind of place you enter if you are stuck with one set 
of ideas. I stood out front for a moment then walked into the bar. 

The inside was a mass of black leather. The seats, walls and even the 
ceiling were covered in black cowhide. Half of the patrons wear black 
"Vampirella" outfits and often look like ghost heads floating against the 
walls. Over the bar was a picture of Joan of Arc, covered in blood leading 
her crusade into a massacre. The walls were covered with maces, whips, 
swords and axes. The floor of the bar had a deep red rug covering it. During 
the war the Wanda Club had been the officer's mess for the SS troops. The 
only real change in the decor since that time had been the removal of the 
Nazi symbols. Otherwise the place was the same. 

I walked over to the bar and ordered a gin. I looked around and saw a few of 
the patrons checking me out, looking hard at my chest to see if they could 
make out the outline of my nipples under the tight silk. I really wasn't 
dressed for the Wanda Club, but I pulled back my shoulders so my tits would 
thrust forward. From the looks I got, I could tell that a few girls were 
interested in me. 

I usually don't go for the leather mistress/slave scene but every once in a 
while it can be a good experience. I've got no desire to have a broomstick 
*shoved up my twat, but there is a certain thrill in fighting for sex. I 
like to find a partner that doesn't mind some mutual rough action, as long 
as we both get what we want. Taking another woman by force, even when you 
know that's what she wants, gives me a charge. I like to work for what I 
get, work up a sweat and a hot pussy as I push her down on the floor and 
take her. I also like a woman who is able to take me with her physical 
power. The Wanda Gub is a good place to find women who like the same thing. 

It wasn't long before a well shaped mass of black leather moved over to 
where I was standing. She was about two inches taller than me with a jagged 
scar on the right side of her face. Her blonde hair was short and there was 
no effort to cover the scar. From the fishy smell around her it was evident 
she also made no effort to bathe. Grime was caked around her fingernails. 
She looked at me and said in English, "Hey, you know what type of place this 
is?" 

I answered by spitting in her face. I watched the saliva dribble down the 
side of her nose before I slapped her across the face. Before she could 
react I reached for her hair, but because it was so short I found my hands 
gripping her ears. I twisted till I brought her to her knees. Then I put my 
foot between her tits and kicked as hard as I could. She fell back to the 
floor. I picked up my gin and sipped it as two bouncers picked her up and 
carried her out of the bar. Looking around I saw that not many people had 
paid attention to the fight. Fights weren't anything new to the Wanda Club. 

I really didn't need to be as rough as I had been, but now there was no 
doubt to the others as to where I was at. It had been fast and mean enough 
to show that I didn't fuck around. The next girl that was going to talk to 
me would have more than just a smelly twat. Unwashed slobs don't turn me on 
and the animal I had just cooled would have been a bore in bed. I was 
looking for a fighter, not a sack of shit I could kick all night. 

My gin was half gone before anybody else walked over to me. This time I 
found myself looking at a woman and not some dropout from a grade B movie. 
She was about my height but her slimness made her look taller in the dim 
light. She moved with the steel-like gracefullness of a large killer cat. I 
could tell that she was solid and fast and that we might make an even match. 
She looked like the kind that can dictate and control every move her body 
makes with precision. I was getting interested. 

"Hello," she said with a voice that was just as precise as her walk, "that 
was quite interesting. I know very few women that can move as fast as you. 
Your style denotes a great deal of experience. Hilda has lost some of her 
speed since she tore open her face and the side of her head on a motorcycle, 
but she can still take most." 

My gut did a flip-flop. So the chick I had got had been a mental case. I had 
figured the scar to be a forget-me-not from an ex-lover and not the result 
of an accident. I felt pretty much like a low class shit and I guess my face 
showed it. 

"Don't worry," she told me, "you've given Hilda enough thrills to keep her 
stroking herself for a week. 

"She liked to get knocked around before she got her brains scrambled. I've 
often thought that her accident gave her the climax of her life." She waved 
for the bartender and said to me, "Can I buy you another gin?" 

We sat in a corner booth and drank our drinks. She had ordered a beer for 
herself and she drank it straight from the bottle. She was even graceful 
when she stuck the neck of the bottle between her lips and drank. 

"I used to be English," she said in a soft tight voice, "but I soon got 
tired of the stale life one leads in, a senile Empire. England has become an 
wrinkled old dyke who must diddle the twats of the stronger nations. I need 
to surround myself with vital raw conditions." 

I ordered another round and she continued to talk. I said very little 
letting my silence draw more of her out. She was strange, very tense and 
cool. Her arm movements made me think of cobras. Yet, her eyes had a deep 
glow that told of some personal madness that filled her life. Her entire 
body reeked of cold danger and I felt my cunt grow tight at the thought of 
sex with this woman. We would be an even match and a good, physical bout 
with her would clear the rest of Vienna out of my system. Unless she 
happened to mention that she dug fucking inside the body of a freshly killed 
sheep or something else as freaky, I knew I would go home with her. . 

She puffed on a slim black cigarette holder and kept talking. "I spent some 
time in Brazil, around Rio. The Brazilian dykes are a savage bunch of women 
and the life is rugged anyway. But most of them can't admit their love of 
women: it's too much of a macho culture. The only ones that come out are the 
truck driver types. I've no use for them. When I grew tired of South America 
I went to South Africa. Very wild and deadly in parts. I seem to feel a need 
for danger, to fight the edge of death. Tell me, Carol, do you find that 
odd?" 

We had reached the first name point about three gins before and I told her, 
"No, Margo, it doesn't seem strange. I think that getting a thrill from 
danger is a very normal experience. I know that danger is a very sexual 
feeling if the danger comes from the proper source." 

"And what," Margo asked with a new tenseness in her voice, "might be the 
proper kind of source?" 

I looked straight at her and said, "Right now I think that source is you." I 
pushed my hand into the low neckline of her vest and squeezed her tit. I 
could feel the nipple harden under my fingers. She smiled at me and we 
quickly left the club. 

We were silent during the cab ride to her place. I pushed up next to her 
body as best I could and felt the heat she was giving off. A corner of my 
mind started telling me that I was doing a stupid thing going home with her 
but I ignored it. There was a strong chance I might get hurt, that she was 
going to give me more than just a sex bout and I might end up dead but I 
really didn't think so. More than likely she knew the game I wanted and was 
willing to play by the rules. 

Margo had a house, not an apartment. Seeing it confirmed my thoughts about 
her having money. It was large and rather new and there was an expensive 
sportscar in the drive. This looked like it was my week for rich partners. 
The house was set off the road and was the type of place that would be great 
for a party. There were trees around the place and plenty of room to run 
wild. 

The inside of the house was not what I expected. Margo must have rented the 
place furnished or she had absolutely no taste. The rooms were like those in 
a Holiday Inn. They were cold and more than a little plastic. We walked 
through the main part of the house and then down a long hall to the back. 
Margo opened the door and I walked into a room that was more like what I 
expected her to have. 

The walls were a rich brown wood and along them hung stuffed animal heads. 
The room was very large and the floor was covered with a thick, white shag 
rug. From where I stood, the bed looked to be covered with animal fur. There 
was a couch, a bed and a bar with nothing else to get in the way. Margo 
brought me a drink and we sat down on the couch. She sipped her beer and 
looked at me. She was waiting for me to make a move but I wanted her to make 
the first play. Holding her glass in both hands she started to talk. 

"Have you ever seen a wild animal take a mate?" she said, "it is fantastic 
to watch the power and desire surge- through the body of an animal that 
knows what it wants. I've often thought about what the mate must feel, the 
sensations of being forced, of being raped and yet being strong enough to 
make the raper work and fight to get into your body. I think that such an 
experience might be most worthwile if the two animals were an even match." 

As far as I was concerned it was time to stop the talk and start the action. 
I was getting more excited every second and my body would soon be yelling 
for satisfaction. There was a slow burn growing deep within my cunt and my 
body was getting ready to burst into flames. I reached out for her and said, 
"We're an even match." 

She dodged my hand and sprang up. "Ahh, but we aren't animals, we are 
women," she said and moved out of my grabbing range. 

"A woman," I told her as I got up and moved toward her body, "is an animal, 
a very wild animal that takes what she wants." I jumped for her but she 
moved out of range with great skill. 

She moved out into the middle of the room and said two words: "Prove it." 

I slipped off my vinyl jacket and moved toward her, my box aching beneath 
the black lace. My breathing was deep and my entire body was on a keen edge. 
She was fast but I was going to be a little faster. 

I swung out and my nails left little marks on the inside Of her left tit. 
She countered with a punch to my middle that made me gasp. I was lucky that 
that jab didn't knock me on my ass. I was fighting an expert, somebody that 
could kill me and she knew she could do it. I hadn't expected a punch, but I 
returned it. 

I slammed a fist into her chest and nearly crushed a nipple. I wanted to 
show her I could be just as tough as she. She started making defensive moves 
and I took the aggressive role. 

I noticed what I had thought were candles on the bar had in fact been huge 
dildoes, one ivory white, the other jet black. Now it was a contest to see 
who would fuck whom. The straps of the dildoes hung over the side of the 
bar, but they were not within reaching distance of either of us. 

But now I was in control of the situation. Each time she darted out of 
range. I took the time to get rid of another piece of my clothing. I was 
stripped down to nothing and my cunt was steaming. I had purposely made 
myself more vulnerable to tempt her closer. I knew that a well-placed kick 
could be almost fatal, but I enjoyed taking the chance. 

She did a quick half turn and sent her foot straight for my box. I moved to 
the side and grabbed her leg and pulled up. She fell down and I was on top 
of her. I locked her arms behind her back and forced her face into the 
carpet. She tried to shake loose but the only way she could break the hold 
was to break one of her own arms. 

We were near the bar now. I reached up my free hand and pulled down the 
massive black dildo. It was a tough manoeuvre strapping it on, but once in 
place, the ten inches was stiff and hard in front of me. I pulled down her 
slacks and could feel the heat from her cunt. I tickled her clit then 
pinched it hard. She let out a scream. 

But it wasn't her cunt I was after. That would be too easy. I worked my 
finger into her asshole and found that hole to be tight and alive. I pulled 
my finger out and pushed the dildo toward her ass. It was smooth and dry. It 
was going to hurt her when I went in but that was part of the game. 

The first two inches tore into her1 and she jerked and screamed at the top 
of her lungs. I worked my way into her with savage thrusts that pressed the 
dildo hard against my cunt. I had her almost rolled into a ball when I 
finally got all the way in. I ground the dildo into her, it became a weapon. 
I hit the inside of her body with my erotic billy club and the muscles of 
her ass snapped at the dildo. 

I stood up and held her impaled on the thing like a fish on a spear. She 
shook and kicked but she couldn't break through. Slowly she began to relax 
and let the sensation flow over her. Somehow we made it to the bed. I was 
flat on top of her as she lay face down in the fur. She made soft sound in 
the deep of her throat and I bit the back of her neck. My passion broke free 
and I ripped her black halter off with my teeth. I sank my teeth into the 
tanned flesh of her back and tasted her blood as it flowed into my mouth. 

I growled and roared and made savage sounds as my nails tore into her skin. 
My heart seemed to fill my entire chest and there was a red haze in front of 
my eyes. Ten million years of being a beast shot out of my genes and took 
control of my body. I sucked burning air into my lungs and my mouth was wet 
with the taste of blood. My entire body was starting to burn and sweat ran 
off my skin like rain. The friction of the dildo against my clit was too 
much. A volcano shuddered inside. I was coming like I never came before. My 
mind was reeling with joy as my cunt grew wet with animal juices. 

I came and a bellow like that of an animal sounded in my throat. I was the 
Beast, the most primitive lioness yelling "FUCK YOU!" at the universe. The 
scent and spore of a million years of hunting hit my nose. The taste of hot 
flesh ripped from an animal killed in unarmed combat filled my mouth. The 
death light glow from a still living moon filled the Neanderthal Valley. I 
waited in my cave for a thousand generations of feeling my guts torn loose 
by a sabre toothed tiger and my body crushed to pulp to stain the feet of a 
hundred herds of mammoth beasts. I was the Amazon, the huntress, the serpent 
lover of Eve. I collapsed on Margo and sucked cold air down my dry throat. 

I was still. Margo's body pressed mine and it quivered as her own climax 
faded from her. Half shadows rippled over my eyes and images slid down a 
fire-pole in the bottom of my brain. The volcano between my legs changed to 
a campfire and my entire body was warm. A lungful of air hissed through my 
lips and every muscle I owned went slack. It was a floating, sinking 
sensation and every nerve was on overtime. The half -woman/half -beast that 
had taken over my body was a very old friend. There had been many times that 
I had let the beast out and felt her run wild. Sometimes the sensation 
wasn't very strong and other times I had been knocked senseless. Still, as I 
thought back on them, as powerful as the sensations could be, they were 
nothing alongside the wonders that had racked my body with Gorkoff. That 
night in Vienna had brought forth another part of me. My feelings shot into 
the future instead of the past. Each direction was fantastic but there was 
no way that one could replace the other. I would continue to let the beast 
out from time to time and I hoped that I could recapture the something that 
happened in Austria. Perhaps both might someday happen at the same time with 
the same person. 

I was drained, empty. I slipped my hand around Margo and closed my eyes. In 
the space of a few seconds I was asleep. I drifted off into a world where I 
was sometimes a woman and sometimes something with four legs and very sharp 
fangs. The dreams were very far away and I watched the entire scene through 
the wrong end of a telescope. I woke up when the handcuffs snapped around my 
wrists: My hands were behind my back and my legs were bound at the ankle. I 
tried to move but I had about as much luck as a snake on vaseline. Margo was 
off to the side of the room, her back to me. 

"Hey," I called out, "what the fuck is going on?" I pulled on the cuffs but 
there was no-way I could get my hands free. I'd let myself relax to the 
point where I had made what might be a fatal mistake. I didn't know what was 
coming off, but it didn't feel very nice. I yelled at Margo and told her to 
take the fucking cuffs off and let me up. 

She turned and stared at me with strange eyes. In her hand was a silver 
dildo I hadn't seen before. It seemed to be covered with flat steel plates, 
the straps hung from the end. Something very cold was growing in my body. 
There was sweat breaking out all over Margo and what looked like flecks of 
foam on her lips. She stood at the end of the bed and an insane grin flashed 
over her face. 

"Well," she said, "You're awake. Sorry to get you so upset but now I get to 
have my fun." 

She slammed the back of her hand across my face. The pain was sharp where 
her nails racked the skin. My hands pulled hard at the cuffs. She slapped 
again and I tasted my own blood. 

"You weak pussy," she snapped at me. "I'll teach you to fuck me. I've seen 
you around before. You're a whore. A goddamn whore! You let men stick their 
disgusting hunks of meat into your body, don't you!" I was silent. 

"You don't deserve to be a woman. You let yourself be fucked by something as 
lowly as a man and you think you're good enough to fuck me! I'm going to 
kill you and fuck your body to shreds. Your death won't destroy men, but 
you'll die in the name of womanhood!" 

She burst into a fit of giggles and more fluid dripped down her lips. There 
was a very tight feeling in my bladder and I wanted to piss all over myself. 
Deep inside I was praying that this was just a very sick and ugly joke and 
that she would stop the bullshit and let me loose. If it wasn't a joke, I 
was dead. 

She stopped her laughing and dropped her face down to mine. I looked hard at 
her and knew this wasn't a sick, sadistic joke. The eyes that I saw were 
insane, deeply insane. I was looking into the face of a mad freak that 
wanted to ram a two foot steel shaft up my cunt until I died. The back of my 
brain was calmly going insane and there were flashes of steel blades, steel 
cocks and steel coffins covered with my blood. I was going to walk into hell 
with a bloody cunt and not one fucking I.O.U. to show for it. 

"You feel sick," her breath was foul in my face, "your gut has turned cold 
and your bladder is full. Your damn man-fucking cunt is ready to fall out 
and you could shit from fear. Feel it, feel what it's like to know you're 
going to die. Feel it and you'll know how I feel every second of the day. 
You'll die with puke in your mouth and a great deal of pain." 

Her breathing was deep and jerky. While she talked she rubbed her cunt in 
ever increasing ecstacy. She stopped talking and looked down at her twat 
with a loving expression. She stroked it with one hand. She stroked harder 
and deeper, I could see her eyes look upwards as she approached her first 
climax. I tried to move away and she grabbed the back of my neck and held 
me. The stink of her body filled my lungs. She kneeled down over my face and 
ground her already wet pussy over my nose. I couldn't breathe and the smell 
was overpowering as her juices ran into my eyes. Bile rushed into my mouth 
and vomit spewed out onto the bed. She screamed and shoved my face into the 
puke. I heaved again, this time getting puke on her cunt. Margo jumped off 
the bed and threw a kick to the side of my head. I blacked out from the 
blow. 

When I came to she was wiping her crotch with a towel. She saw me open my 
eyes and slapped me. The pain tore up the side of my face like a toothache. 
I could feel blood on my wrists where the cuffs had torn the skin. I 
couldn't feel anything in my feet except a dull throb. She picked up the 
metal dildo and held it six inches from my eyes. 

Under better conditions I might have been able to admire the workmanship of 
the steel rod but all I could do was feel my cunt draw tight. Overlapping 
plates ran down the twenty four inches of the shaft. At the base was a large 
red plastic bar that looked like it could be pushed in. 

Margo moved her finger to the bar and pushed it in. The metal plates sprang 
out at 90 degree angles. The edges were razor sharp and I saw how I was 
going to die. 

"It is a very nice bit of work, don't you think?" She looked at it with 
pride and continued. "It was used by the Germans during the war. They found 
it very effective. I've never used it before but there is no season why it 
won't work as well for me as it did for the SS." 

She pulled on the little bar and the blades went back to form the smooth 
shaft. She began to strap the thing to her body. "You see," she told me in a 
voice that sounded almost sane, "when the entire shaft has been inserted in 
your cunt, the bar will hit against the insides of your legs causing the 
steel plates to open inside your body. Everything will be sliced like an 
onion. When I enter again more tissue will be cut. The fewer strokes I make 
the longer it will take you to die. It's really a most effective method." 

My mind was running at a fantastic speed. In the back of my skull was the 
start of a plan but I needed to stall for just a few seconds. She was ready 
to mount me when I turned my head and with as much control as possible asked 
her, "Wait, before you do this, there is something that I want to know. 
Don't I even get one last request?" 

She stopped and then nodded her head up and down. Her eyes were glazed over 
and I doubt if she could even see me. 

"Have you ever," I said as I moved my hands up my back, "killed anyone and 
sliced their tits off in the process." I had my arms moved up as far as I 
could. If I could do everything just right, I had a chance. If it didn't 
work then Carol Waters was a very dead woman. 

"Sliced their tits off?" Margo answered, "God what a horrible thought. Tits 
are part of what makes women superior to men. Even a dead woman has a right 
to her breasts. Besides, you're the first woman I've ever killed. By the 
way, I hope that you understand that I've really got nothing against you as 
a person. You just happen to be the first man-fucker that I've been able to 
capture. Your death is to prove a point, that's all!" She pushed the first 
three inches of the rod in. It was cold and I wanted to scream. 

She pushed in another two inches and I jerked my body and rolled over with 
my elbows as a brace. The rod slid first up and then quickly slipped out of 
my cunt. Margo fell to the side, a confused look over her already insane 
face. I propped my back with my elbows and drove both feet between her tits. 
The impact knocked her off the bed. I moved faster than I thought possible. 
I dropped my hands down past my ankles and pulled them out from under my 
feet. Now my hands were in front of me. While I was try- ing to undo my feet 
Margo rushed me. I bounced up using the bed as a trampoline. I brought my 
handcuffed wrists^down over Margo's face and she screamed and hit the wall. 
I fell to the floor and untied my feet. There was no feeling in them but I 
could walk. I ran/fell toward the bar and started looking for the key to the 
handcuffs. I had just found it when the door slammed. 

I got one cuff off and went running toward the door. I threw it open and saw 
Margo running at the other end. I took after her, feeling and pain coming 
back to my legs. Blood flowed from the wounds on my wrists and my entire 
body was screaming with pain. Every step that I took shoved fire up and down 
my spine. Through the pain and shock I knew that I was alive, that I was 
able to move, to breathe, to just fucking be! There was no amount of pain 
that could hide that from me. 

A sane person would have been able to get away from me. I was in a house 
that I didn't know and had no idea of the escape routes. Margo had lost 
touch and was operating with a logic only she understood. For some reason 
she ran to the main room of the house rather than trying to get away. I 
found her standing in front of the fireplace. She seemed to be sobbing. 

"MARGO!" I yelled. She turned and her face was wet. She had taken the dildo 
off and was holding it next to her like a child. I wanted to run over and 
grind her face into the bricks. I wanted to kill, to hear her bones crunch 
under my hands. The beast in me was coming to the top. I wanted so much to 
just rip Margo apart for the hell she had put me through. There was so much 
pleasure that I could find in killing her but another part of my mind held 
me back. She was sick, her mind was torn and warped and killing her would do 
no good. I stood very still and called in a softer voice, "Margo." 

Her mouth moved a couple of times before she was able to speak. When she did 
it was in a cracked horrible squeek. "Sorry ... horrible ... it really 
doesn't matter any longer ... nobody seemed to care ... long nights with 
nothing but dreams ... better like this." 

She moved away and looked up at the ceiling. Her mouth opened and the most 
awful sound I had ever heard shot from her throat. "Oh sweet Mother of God," 
she cried, "HOW COULD MEN DO THIS?" 

She swung the dildo up and pushed it down .her own throat. I reached her as 
the base slammed into her face. The blades sprang up and her blood sprayed 
over me. She fell to the floor. For the third time that night I threw up. 

I think I was in shock for the next hour. Part of that time I cried for 
Margo, the rest of the time I cried for me. Things flashed around me during 
that hour and a lot of the shit of the last three years floated to the 
surface. A lot of what went on in that hour I've pushed out of my head. The 
one thing I can't get rid of is the sound of Margo yelling her last words. 
That sound will go with me to the grave. 

After my head got back together to the point where I could function, my 
professional training took over. I made a search of the house and uncovered 
some interesting things. What I found was enough to make me want to run to 
the phone and call ICO. I checked myself and sat down to think the entire 
thing out. 

From the papers in the house I knew that Margo had been Margo Randolph 
Smith, related to English royalty, and the supporter of two dozen movements 
that ranged from being kind to animals, to every Lesbian Feminist movement 
in Europe. Up until two years ago she had been just another eccentric 
Englishwoman. Then came a mental breakdown and a year in a Swiss clinic. 
Really not so strange a history for a lot of people but there was one thing 
that caught my attention: her passport. 

Passports have stamps that show entry and exit dates and locations. I made 
the usual check of the passport just to see where she had been in the last 
year. I noticed a pattern that I knew well. Each time the ripper had struck, 
Margo was within a hundred miles of the scene. The last exit stamp she had 
was from Austria, the Vienna airport. She had left there for Amsterdam on 
the day after the murder. The same pattern as Gorkoff, the same areas, the 
same dates. 

There were little holes that were nagging me as I looked at both suspects. 
Gorkoff had motive for one murder but not for all of them as far as I knew. 
He was in love with the idea of death and looked upon it as a personal god. 
Still, the messy kind of killing done by the ripper was not his style. 
Gorkoff was the type that would make a murder a work of fine art. 

Margo also fit and then didn't. She was insane enough to commit a savage 
murder, and certainly seemed to hate prostitutes, but there was something 
wrong. She was horrified at the idea when I asked her about it. She had 
nothing to hide because she thought I was about to die. 

These were small points perhaps. In other areas both were almost perfect 
suspects. They were both rich and they were insane. They had been in the 
right place at the right time and both were involved in bizarre ways with 
women. There were too many things that said yes to both, yet not enough to 
say no about either. There was one other factor that played into the 
picture: one of them was dead and could never be questioned. 

If Gorkoff denied the charge, and he might, there was enough evidence to 
throw the plea in doubt. The damned thing about it was if he confessed to 
the crime there was also enough evidence to question that. Gorkoff was mad 
and might confess to a crime he didn't do for some strange reason that only 
he knew. 

I had two people that were perfect suspects and one was dead and the other 
was crazy. I had a deep feeling I might never find out who the killer really 
was. My head was getting fucked up over this case and I didn't like it. I 
was also headed toward a point where I was going to make a choice of one 
over the other and I couldn't do it. 

If the information I had on Margo was turned in, . that might get Gorkoff 
off the hook. That might also mean the killer would be free. I could 
withhold what I knew and Gorkoff had a strong chance of being found guilty. 
If that happened, then an innocent man might go to his death. I was going to 
get screwed in the mind with whatever choice and the screwing would be the 
same no matter which I took. 

The sun was starting to come up and I had no idea whether or not Margo had 
day servants. I did a quick clean-up of the possible points where my 
fingerprints might show up. I wasn't really worried since it looked like 
suicide, but it never hurts to be careful. If my prints were found, that 
would force me into a choice and I wanted to make the choice under my own 
power. If I left no prints there would be no questions. I put back the stack 
of papers that represented Margo's life and after taking one more look at 
her cold nude body, walked out of the house and down the road toward the 
city. 

The walk gave me more time to think and also some time to stop thinking. I 
looked at the houses, watched people on the streets and had a lot of coffee 
that I didn't finish. I walked through the market and went to a museum where 
I stared at a nameless dark painting by an unknown artist for an hour. 

I went to a cafe and ate a meal that I forgot to taste and then sat around 
Vondel park for half the afternoon. After eight hours of thinking I was 
still unable to choose. I pulled a coin out and thought about flipping it. 
Heads meant I would talk and tails stood for silence. Not even that seemed 
like an answer and I started the long walk back to my apartment. 

It had been less than twenty hours since I had gone out for a relaxing 
night. In those twenty hours I had become so messed up that it would be a 
year before I could straighten it all out. Some things take years to screw 
up and sometimes it can happen in a few hours. I was getting some deep 
thinking out of all of this and damn little else. Sometimes I wished 
everything would stop and there would be no future but if things were 
stopped that would probably mean death. Fuck it, just fuck the whole thing 
and let it rot. 

I forced myself to run up the stairs to the apartment. Half way up I heard 
the phone ringing. It was still going when I opened the door. I picked it up 
and heard Ducasse's sour voice over the Vienna line. 

"Hey cunt!" the phone barked, "start answering your fucking phone. Have you 
seen this afternoon's paper?" 

Something that felt none too good started to creep through my stomach. "No, 
what's happened?" 

Everything in my mind took a dive when he told me. "There was a car 
accident. A guard rail was knocked clean off a bridge in the alps. Gorkoff 
died in his car, crunched to nothing. Fold up your file on it; this is one 
case we'll never be sure about. 

Ducasse didn't know how goddamned right he was at the moment. 

 Chapter Four 

I decided to get and stay drunk for awhile. I also decided to help get my 
mind off it all by going back to the old profession. By hitting the streets 
again. I would descend to the depths to try to cleanse myself of the whole 
affair. 

In the third afternoon of my moral purge I was working the streets near a 
dirty bar on the docks. I went in. The place reeked of sour bodies and stale 
beer but I was in no real condition to care. I poured very cheap Dutch gin 
down my throat. Nobody in the bar paid any attention to me, drunken whores 
were common in that part of the city. I was trying to build up enough 
strength to stagger on when I felt a hand on my breast. 

The hand groped inside my blouse for a tit and it found the nipple. It 
continued to rub and I could feel the nipple harden. I looked for the owner 
of the hand and found myself looking at a toothless old man. 

A badly placed wig could not hide the fact that he was old enough to have 
fucked my mother way before World War Two. If he had put his pecker in my 
mother then he must be at least seventy. He looked older. His eyes had sunk 
into his face and every inch of his skin seemed to be trying to drip off the 
bone. I could see a hundred lines of old age everywhere there was flesh. 

The man continued to stroke my tit and he smiled at me. "You've got such 
nice tits," he said in Dutch. "You want to fuck me?" 

I pushed his hand away from my nipple. He moved closer and the other hand 
went for my crotch and began to work its way under my panties. 

"Come on" he said, the stench of his body hitting my half-numb nose, "I'll 
make you feel like a woman. You want me to eat you? I'll eat you till you 
scream. I'll eat you and fuck you and even pay you a little something." He 
ran his dry tongue over his lips and then opened and closed his mouth. "You 
see, I can eat very good. Come, I have a room in the back." 

I was drunk to the point that I didn't know what to do. I had no desire to 
let this ugly old man do anything to my body. I tried to move away but he 
pressed his body to mine and his beard scraped my cheek. He had a finger 
deep in my cunt and my body had responded to the pressure. I mumbled at him 
in English to stop. He kept rubbing and trying to pull me by the cunt to his 
room. My cunt was getting wet and seemed to want to fuck with this old man. 
My head was also throbbing and the gin was starting to hit me with a wave of 
numbness. I was on the verge of passing out drunk. The only part of me that 
seemed alive was the soft hole between my legs. No one else in the place 
even bothered to look at us. Old men and drunken whores are nothing new or 
interesting. 

I kept trying to push him away but he knew how to handle a drunk woman and 
get her to move. The room seemed to rock under my feet and the last load of 
gin was seeping into my brain. I started to fall forward and he pulled me 
into the room. I fell on the bed and swore at him in drunken English. "Get 
away you old prick. I don't want your cock in my pussy. You stink. Go fuck 
my mother. Go stick your wrinkled cock into her cunt. I don't want you. Get 
the fuck away." 

He reacted like I was singing him a love song. I tried to get up but my body 
had turned to lead. The only strength I had left was in my cunt. He got 
undressed and there were thick blue lines down his hairless legs. His 
wrinkled cock flopped against his balls as he walked over to the bed. I 
tried one more time to get up and could only jerk the muscles of one arm. My 
stomach was rolling sick from the gin, the smell, and the wrinked man that 
was kneeling on the floor in front of the bed. I wanted to be sick and throw 
up on the bed. If I started to puke he might leave me alone. I was too drunk 
to move and too drunk to get sick. I shut my eyes and tried to pass out. 

His voice sounded soft and cry far away. He was speaking Dutch and I 
understood most of what he said as he began to slowly unbutton my blouse. 
With trembling fingers he'removed it. Then he started on my pants. 

He opened the top snap and slowly unzipped the front. He left my panties on 
at first. 

"You are so beautiful," he said, as he stoked me through the lace, "I want 
you to get hot in your panties before I let you suck me. You look so much 
like the woman I loved. She was killed in the war and now I have you." 

He pulled down my panties and thrust a finger into my cunt. I could see 
through bleary eyes that his old prick was beginning to rise, perhaps for 
the first time in twenty years. The guy had his tongue in my cunt now and 
the rough tissue of his tongue poked at it. I wanted to run but there was no 
feeling in my legs. 

Slowly he revolved his body until his semi-hard cock was over my face. 
Somehow it found its way into my mouth. He licked deeper and pumped my face 
at the same time. I could feel his cock throb in my throat while his tongue 
played with my clit. I felt the few drops of his cum spurt down my throat. 
Just then I felt it in me. I couldn't help it. My twat tightened and grew 
wet. I came. The man saw what happened and started to laugh. He moved off me 
and kept laughing. I forced myself up and got dressed. The old man put on 
his clothes and stepped out to the bar. He told the others he had made me 
come and they all laughed. I pushed my way out, forgetting about any money. 
I went home to think. 

I laid out a few basic things in my head and took a look. First thing on the 
list was to stop thinking about Gorkoff and Margo. It made no difference 
which was the killer. Both of them were dead and that was the end of it. The 
file wouldn't be closed on the killings for five years, but it would be 
noted that the prime suspect had died before being questioned. The case 
would become just another one in the files and not a ritual passage for some 
involved agent. 

Number two on the list, and as important as the first, was the simple fact 
that most of the problems I had were cuased by my own fucking head. I needed 
something to set my mind free, to send a thrill up and down my body. I 
suddenly knew what I needed. I hopped out of bed and went to the phone. 

Dawn Jackson does not keep regular hours and there was just as much a chance 
of finding her at home at seven in the morning as not. The phone rang three 
times and her musical voice chimed out of the ear piece. 

Dawn is a connection to a long chain of supply lines. Anything that you need 
she can get. We talked for a few moments, telling stories and little jokes. 
I've often found her to be very useful and she has given me a list of phone 
numbers by which she can always be contacted. I was still lucky to find her 
in Amsterdam. I told her what I wanted and she gave me a small laugh and 
asked me what time I would like to have my request fulfilled. I told her and 
then we talked price for a while and everything was fine. I hung up and sat 
down to wait for my order. 

About an hour later there was a knock at the door. I opened it and looked at 
a male and female set of twins about sixteen. They were almost identical. 
Except for the fact tht the girl had budding young breasts and the boy a 
strong muscular chest, they looked almost exactly alike. They smiled at me 
at the same time and the boy said with a Danish accent, "You called Dawn 
Jackson for us?" They walked into the room and I shut the door. Both of them 
moved with a soft style that forewarned me of how they would be in bed. They 
were just what I wanted. 

I offered them some coffee and the three of us sat down. They did not, and 
this is a little strange for Danes, speak much English. While we talked I 
took some money out of my purse and laid it on the table. The boy picked it 
up and put it in his pocket without counting it; no one ever tries to 
shortchange Dawn Jackson. 

While we sat, the boy, who was on my right, reached over and put his hand on 
my breast. The nipple responded and was hard under the folds of my robe. He 
continued to stroke me and shivers of pleasure traveled through my body. I 
felt another hand go to my crotch. The girl on my right had poked a finger 
into my snatch. 

The three of us walked into the bedroom and my entire body was throbbing 
with the thought of what was to come. Both of them were lovely and both were 
professional. Since it has been my job to sell sex, I see nothing wrong with 
buying it on occasion. I can't see paying just to get laid, that shows a 
lack of style. To buy a service that can't usually be found is something 
else. The chances of picking up a matched set of twin's on the street is 
very small. The chances that they are also lovely and talented are even less 
and since the chance of getting it for free is so small, I can see nothing 
wrong with paying for it. Something rare and unusual like the twins is 
something that I don't mind paying for, any more than I mind paying for any 
other rare service. 

I laid back on the bed and the two right hands slipped from my body. With a 
quick look to make sure I approved, both twins stripped in front of me. 
Their bodies were as perfect as their faces. Both had not a scar or mark on 
the pale skin. Their pubic hair was the same soft shade of gold as the hair 
on their heads. The boy still had his foreskin and the end of his cock poked 
through slightly. The girls breasts were small and firm, just sprouting free 
of the bonds of childhood. They looked at me with deep blue eyes and I 
nodded to let them know that I liked what I saw. They moved over to the bed 
and began to earn their fee. 

Dawn has a rule that you never ask names of anyone that she sends you. 
Likewise, the people that work for her know better than to ask a client for 
a name. It may seem a little cold, but that is how she likes to play the 
game. In her business, the only name that anyone knows is Dawn. I have a 
strong feeling that isn't her real name but it doesn't matter. I could care 
less about the names of these two since even if I knew, the only way that I 
could ever contact them would be through Dawn. It is just one of the rules 
that must be lived with. I felt the first movement of a concert for Two 
Mouths and Four Hands warm the air around my cunt. One hand tickled my clit 
while the other cupped a breast. A third hand began to explore my asshole 
and the fourth crept up my body to my other tit. Then one pair of lips began 
to nibble at my lower lips. The other set of lips moved up to my right 
nipple and danced around the tip. I let myself enjoy the sensations and did 
not move. When I looked down I could see the top of two blond heads. A hot 
wave of passion began to move in my stomach. 

The girl nibbled and slurped into my cunt while the boy sucked hard on a 
breast. Someone's firm finger pushed deep into my ass and I could feel the 
muscles clamp in pleasure. The boy was tonguing my tit. He now snaked his 
tongue down my body until his lips joined those of the girl in my cunt. A 
shock of lust poured through me as two tongues both touched the clit at the 
same time. The tongues changed to lips and teeth and I shook with pleasure. 
My body began to jump and turn as the two mouths sucked and licked me. I 
could feel a shuddering orgasm build inside me, but the pressure lessened. 
They wanted to prolong the pleasure as much as possible. 

I looked down and could see the stiff young cock of the boy against the 
bedsheet. I wanted that cock. 

J wanted that boy inside to erase the taste and horror of the old man. I 
would wait, though; what was happening now was enough pleasure. 

One pair of lips left my twat and started down the inside of my leg. A 
tongue shot out and rubbed the inside of my knee and tingles spread out from 
the touch. The lips continued to march downward and I felt my slippers 
removed and a hot mouth cover my toes. A wet tongue snaked out and rubbed 
each toe. 

This time it was the female lips which began to work upwards. They first 
stopped at my navel. They were wet and excited. They crawled over my stomach 
and up my chest. The girl's lips reached out and kissed my nipples and then 
moved up to the side of my neck. There were two hands playing games with my 
cunt and a finger still moving up my ass. It was wonderful and a mad sensual 
feeling swept over me. 

I gulped in as the girl's damp mouth found and covered my ear. Hands raced 
over me and there were lips at my head and lips at my feet. The strong smell 
of excited bodies touched my nose and I could feel the sweat of three bodies 
running together. I reached for the boy's hard cock and pulled back the 
skin. He let go of my toe and let out a small moan. I moved my hand and the 
prick I held began to grow and throb. The mouth sucked harder. I reached 
down and inserted a finger into the girl who was licking my ear. She too 
groaned. Her mouth sucked harder on my ear and I felt her body shake. The 
lips on my feet began to move upward. The blond girl stopped him and reached 
over to where I was pumping the cock of her brother. She pushed my hand 
gently away and took his cock into her mouth. She moved her mouth down and 
the wet lips touched the tip of my hand as I grasped the bottom of his hard 
shaft. 

The brother buried his face deep into my cunt. Our passion rose together. 
Suddenly the brother withdrew from his sister's mouth. But it was too late. 
Spurts of cum washed her face and dribbled down the side of her nose onto my 
chest. I knew that wasn't the end. I wanted him to come inside me. He was a 
professional and once was not enough. 

The three of us laid still for a moment and then there were hands back on my 
cunt, rubbing softly. Hot air hit my box again as they moved closer to it 
and there were two tongues again at play with my clit. My body jerked with 
the sensation and my in-sides grew tight. The two licked and bit and sucked. 
I pushed up on my elbows to watch. 

Suddenly I went dizzy, I yelled in ecstacy as my cunt dripped from joy. I 
fell back on the bed, drained of power ... but only for a moment. The twins 
moved down from my cunt and the tip of a tongue darted into the crack of my 
ass. It was the girl. I spread my legs further and part of the tongue 
slipped into me. I called for the boy and he turned so that I could stick 
him back to hardness. 

The tongue in my ass and the cock in my mouth were so incredibly sensual 
that I could feel myself getting hot again. The tongue moved faster and I 
began to suck harder as the waves of sensation flowed into my body. I opened 
my mouth before it was too late and motioned for the boy to enter me. His 
hand dropped down to my cunt and he touched it gently. He slid a finger into 
my body and smiled. I pulled him close and kissed him on the lips. The girl 
was now at my side gently sucking on a tit. The boy climbed on top of me and 
pressed close. I raised my legs and wrapped my arms around him. His sister 
went to suck his cock and. cover it with spit. 

She guided it toward the target and it pushed against my hot throbbing cunt. 
He threw his weight forward and the head of his organ slid in. I rose up 
thrusting my hips upwards. The entire organ slid into me. He bent over and 
sucked my lips. He shoved forward and pulled out until only the head was in, 
then he pushed back hard. His sister had crawled behind him and had her face 
buried between the cheeks of his ass as he pumped. 

He continued to push and pull his cock in and out of my body. I could sense 
that his sister had moved lower now and was licking at my asshole as her 
brother pumped in me. The three of us moved like this was the only way that 
we ever made love. We rocked on the bed, cock in cunt, ass in mouth, mouth 
in mouth with a skill that blew my mind. These two might only be sixteen but 
they knew what to do. We continued to move until he was unable to hold back 
the flood in his groin. I was on the verge and coming. COMING! He too let 
loose and filled my boiling box with hot cum. I let out a small yell and the 
girl drove her tongue deeper into my asshole. Then the three of us fell in 
exhausted ecstacy. 

We lay on the bed and didn't move. My body was still feeling the joy of a 
good climax and wanted to stay still. The sex hadn't done that much for my 
head but that wasn't the reason I was doing this. The last few weeks had 
been filled with sex that was overloaded with mental reactions. What I 
wanted this time was just some good, clean fucking that wouldn't mess up my 
mind. Being in bed with two people that were getting paid to screw and knew 
better than to lay a bad fuck on me was just what I needed. I moved away 
from the wet body and propped myself at the head of the bed and looked down 
at the two young and sensual bodies I had rented for the day. 

After a moment one of them started to suck on my dripping cunt. I pushed her 
back. I'd had all I could take, at least for the moment. That is all there 
was to it. 

They looked at me and acted like they didn't know what to do next. Dawn had 
told them that they would be here for at least twenty-four hours and I guess 
they thought they should give me every second of that time. In very slow 
Dutch I told them to do whatever they wanted to while I watched and got up 
enough power to rejoin them. After going over it a few times they got the 
idea and nodded that they understood. I leaned back as they started to give 
me a show of what they could do. 

Some people don't like to watch others have sex but I really dig it. Hell, 
sometimes it's all you feel like doing. Anyway, the sight of other people 
doing it really turns me on. I don't care for orgies and public sex myself. 
Sex, even when it has been paid for is a wonderful thing. Looking at sex is 
almost as good, although it will never replace getting in there and doing it 
yourself. I don't go out of my way to watch other people and I don't get 
very much excitement out of looking at films, but still, it does turn me on 
at times. 

The twins got off the bed and stood facing each other. Their young bodies 
were glowing with sweat and the boy's hard cock throbbing in anticipation. 
Looking at him from a distance I noticed it was larger than I had first 
thought. Brother and sister reached for each other's crotch and started to 
stroke. The sight of two such beautiful kids sent a tight thrill up my 
pussy. They continued to caress each other and then they did something that 
made me sit up and look with deep and excited interest. 

The girl stepped back and went into a handstand, her legs shooting straight 
up into the air. After she was balanced, the boy walked around and wrapped 
his arms around her waist. The girl lifted her hands off the floor and began 
to pull herself up her brother's legs. The brother helped pull her up until 
she had his cock in her mouth and his mouth was munching away at her muff. 
It was really fantastic, an upright sixty-nine, a vertical mutual munch that 
took a great deal of skill. This was like something that you find in a book 
and it was being done in front of me. I guess it really didn't take a great 
deal of talent but it looked so impressive. My cunt itched at the sight. 

They stood in the middle of the room and ate away at each other. Their faces 
turned red and they began to sway. I got out of bed and moved over to them. 
They had their eyes closed and from the way their faces looked I knew this 
was a thrilling thing for them. I walked behind the standing brother and 
reached between his legs to play with his balls. He sighed. Then I pried my 
way between them such that I was facing the girl. 

The brother slid into me from behind. His long cock hitting my sensitive 
points. I licked the cunt directly "under my nose, forcing my tongue deep 
into her slot. 

We kept our topsy-turvy conga line going for about three minutes and then 
the standing brother suddenly let loose a torrent of cum into my cunt. His 
knees went weak and we fell onto the floor. To my amazement, it took only a 
little sucking till he was hard again. I got out of the way. 

The brother lay flat on his back. Sister sucked on him for awhile then she 
brought her leg over his body and guided his cock into her. The brother 
pushed up and sister rode him like a bronco. I was panting with her as she 
gasped at each thrust. I ran my own fingers over my empty snatch as I 
watched. He was heaving harder now and the sister was looking toward the 
ceiling about to faint from ecstasy. The brother grunted heavily and his 
blond head pushed against the carpet. I could see drops of cum dribble from 
beneath the girl's young cunt. 

We spent the afternoon doing wild, sexual things that opened up every 
pleasure center in my body. One person is often able to do fantastic things 
in bed; two people with a lot of drive can really get things moving. 
However, upder the right conditions, three people can do things that are 
insane and fantastic. That was what happened in my apartment. By the time 
the sun had set I was ready to drop. My entire body felt clean and free of 
all the shit that had come down on me. My mind was loose and for the first 
time in one hell of a long while I felt like a real human being. I told the 
two there was no need for them to spend the night and sent them back to 
wherever Dawn keeps them. I went in and took a long, hot bath. 

After dinner I called the local office and told them to find me a maid. I 
also told them to make sure that she was better than my last one. I then 
hopped into bed and while thinking about how wonderful the evening had been 
I fell asleep and didn't have one dream the entire night. 

 Chapter Five 

The shrill report of the telephone cut through the dark room. I turned on 
the light and reached for the phone hoping it was a wrong number. I picked 
it up realizing that it was the ICO line. "Amsterdam Agent six dash oh" I 
said. 

"Agent Waters, please stand by for contact with Paris." The voice was 
distant and a bit bored. I heard a series of clicks and touch tones then 
came Ducasse's rough voice. 

"Waters," he said, "get packed. I want you in this office as soon as 
possible. Confirm." 

"I understand," I said, "Report to Paris this morning ICO main office. What 
the hell happened?" 

"It seems that your case hasn't ended," I heard the awful voice tell me. 
"Gorkoff was not the man we wanted. Berlin has just reported a murder that 
has all the trademarks of the lunatic you've spent the last three years 
trying to track down. Lab reports show that it is the same killer and not 
just someone using the same method. Get off this phone and get the fuck on a 
plane." The phone clicked and my brain went into high gear. 

Gorkoff hadn't been the killer and that also meant that Margo had been 
innocent. The killer was still loose and in my own way I had added two more 
victims to his list. 

Ducasse was tense when I walked into his office the next morning. He handed 
me a report sheet and rang out for coffee. There was no mistake that this 
was the work of the same person. Everything checked out down to the 
composition of the steel filings left in the victims wounds. I read the 
report three times to make sure that it sank in. 

I put down the report and looked at Ducasse. "Is this all," I asked, "or is 
there more to come?" 

"More," he said. "There were some symbols drawn in blood on the body and the 
walls. There were also some bits of melted black wax and chicken blood found 
on the floor. We have a good idea what it all means but research is running 
stuff through the computer." 

Just then a technician arrived with a printout sheet. Ducasse looked at it. 
It appeared that his suspicions were confirmed. 

"The computer seems to think we've got a case of witchcraft on our hands." I 
looked at him with mild surprise and he continued. "The markings on the wall 
and body are occult symbols and both black wax and chicken blood are used in 
Voodoo to cast spells. That is just about all they can tell us. There is a 
name listed on the read-out sheet that I want you to check. He is listed as 
an expert in occult matters. Pull his file and talk to him as soon as you 
can. I want to know just what those damn symbols mean." 

The file on Zacherly Rondini hadn't given me very much to go on. He was 
listed in the odd-ball section and there was a note that he might be a con 
man. He ran a place on the edge of the city called the Church of the Inner 
Mounting Flame. Most of his students were rich, female and old enough to the 
point where being stupid took up much of their time. The file showed that 
Rondini had once served a tour of duty in the American Army and that his 
real name was Guiseppi Eric Goldberg. It was little wonder that he had 
changed his name to something that wasn't a mixture of three different 
ethnic groups. I took a cab out to his place. 

The door was open and I walked into a room that was solid black from top to 
bottom. A lone taper burned on the top of a polished human skull. There were 
two chairs in the room facing each other. I sat down and waited for 
something to happen. I heard a gong and a black-robed man stepped into the 
room. He had no hair on his face or head. His eyebrows were shaved and he 
looked a little like a penis with ears. He sat down in the other chair and 
bugged out his eyes at me. 

"AAGAAHGAH," he intoned with a sigh that hinted of New York City, "you have 
come to see the Great Rondini and beg him to open the dark and awful secrets 
of the greater soul. You desire to know the truth of the Inner Mounting 
Flame and become unlike the base animal from whence you sprang and rise 
instead to speak with the Great Lost Giants of Time Passed." 

I was getting a little turned off by his sales pitch; lost races and all his 
other bullshit were a bit much to take at this time of the morning. I 
focused in on his round face and broke into his come-on. 

"Look, if you don't mind I'd just like to get some information. I'm making a 
horror movie. I will play the vanquished herione and I want to get a feel 
for the part. I wanted to check out some details with you. Everybody says 
that you know more about it then anyone else. If you can help me I'll make 
sure you get screen credit." 

His close-set eyes flashed and he leaned toward me. "Yes, it is written that 
he who seeks the wise one will become a wise one. For screen credit in large 
type I am willing to help. May I see what you have?" 

"Rondini dahling," I said in my best Hollywood style, "I'll make sure you 
get an entire frame card all to yourself. Big letters and in red and black, 
your name and address and maybe even a drawing of you. Can you groove to 
that?" 

He took the bait and soon the information would flow from him like a river. 
I had touched his ego and he was willing to.[Jo anything to get a little 
more fame. He studied the drawing and the description of the murder scene 
that I had re-typed to look like part of a film script. After a few moments 
of what he was trying to make me think was deep thought, he spoke like he 
had just spent the last three weeks in bed with Satan's wife under him. 

" Weeeel, you have made some dire mistakes here. The symbols are right and 
so is the use of chicken blood and black wax. However, they do not mix and 
any spell cast like this would fail. The spells that are indicated here are 
used to cast a soul into Hell, a most evil desire. Someone who knew about 
the craft would never mix things like this. I think that your writer has no 
knowledge of the Occult. Even the rankest student knows better than to mix 
the spells of two different origins together. Is this a movie for children?" 
"Yes, blood and death still do wild box office biz with the under thirteen 
set." I had what I wanted from him. The witch-craft addition to the crime 
had been put there to lead us off the track. The killer obviously didn't 
know his ass from a black mass when it came to witchcraft. He was insane, 
but he wasn't stupid. I started to leave but my evil doctor called me back. 

"Many women in Hollywood have to... er... do certain things to become stars. 
Is that not true?" he said. He leered as he spoke. "I mean do a lot of women 
still fuck producers and directors for parts?" 

"Sure, it's a fact of business. Everybody gets fucked in Hollywood. They 
even have to fuck their way into church films." I was inwardly chuckling as 
I spoke and really playing the part. "Sure," I continued, "there's even lots 
of guys that had to screw leading ladies to get parts as busboys." To say 
that, however, had been a mistake. 

He leered at me and went on. "Have you ever let somebody fuck you for a 
part. If you found a guy that could make your pussy do tricks, would you get 
him into one of your films?" 

"I might," I said, "he'd also need to be able to act. Hollywood is filled 
with fuckers but damn few of them can act." I wondered what kind of kick 
this guy got talking about fucking. 

"I am, as you well know," he said with sweat on his brow, "a very good 
actor. According to a great number of my students I also am great when it 
comes to fucking. If I lipped my cock up your cunt would you put me in a 
film?" 

I started to laugh and then stopped. He was shaking all over and reached 
down to open his fly. He pulled out his fat cock and I saw it throb into 
full standing position. He really wanted to fuck me and I didn't think he 
was after a part in a movie. He was hot for my cunt and I was getting very 
cold toward his cock. I stood up to leave and his plump hand went for the 
top of my slacks. He threw his body around my hips and pushed me to the 
wall. 

He started dry humping me, pushing his cock up against the front of my 
slacks. He undid the top snap and pulled down my zipper. I tried to push him 
away, but he was stronger than I had thought. His hand shot down and he 
rubbed my cunt through my panties. 

"Please," he begged, "I want that cunt. I want to fuck you hard. I need to 
feel a woman's pussy to fill up with my cum. I don't want a part in the 
films, I just want some cunt. Some young cunt. All my students are old 
ladies with dry cunts and bad breath. It is nothing to fuck them. I need 
some real cunt from a real woman. Please." The last word came out as a whine 
and I could see him weakening. I tossed him to the side of the room, zipped 
up my pants and made for the door. He ran after me but couldn't get to me in 
time. I drove off in the taxi I had waiting for me and left him behind. 

I took a night flight to Berlin and was unpleasantly surprised to find 
myself met by Ducasse. He was in his usual ill mood and managed to insult 
me, my family and any dog I ever owned at least three times before we got to 
the hotel. I blew him a kiss as he drove off into the Berlin traffic. 

I checked into my room and went over the reports the Ducasse had given me. 
The background on the victim followed all the rest. She was a hustler, 
young, high-priced and rather new to the city. She had last been seen with 
somebody no one really looked at since they were all looking at her, and had 
been found the next morning by three children that went out to play in the 
old house where the killing had taken place. It was the usual collection of 
dead ends and I knew that I was never going to get any closer to the killer 
unless I changed my methods. I dropped in bed with the seed of a plan in the 
back of my mind. 

By the time I was awake the plan was finished and after thinking it out 
again I couldn't see how it could be any less effective than what I was now 
doing. I got on the phone and called Ducasse and gave him an outline. He 
ranted about my canine parents and told me that all whores were stupid from 
fucking too many strangers. He stopped to take a breath and I asked if 
fucking strangers was what gave his wife her blank look. The phone clicked 
and the line was dead. 

Despite what Ducasse thought about my plan it had just as much a chance as 
anything else. What I wanted to do was go undercover using my hustler's 
talents to find the killer. I had a very rough idea of what to look for and 
if I made the hustler's route of cities I could find out more. There must 
have been some people that had turned the killer down and would know what 
his style was like. There was a chance that I might even be approached by 
the killer. I didn't know what I would do in that case but at least I was 
trained to handle difficult situations. Perhaps that was best, to try and 
bait the killer into coming after me. 

I went to the Kudam, Berlin's giant shopping street and bought the most 
obvious hustler's clothes. I came back three hours later with four boxes of 
clothing. I stood in front of the mirror and tried on each piece and looked 
at myself with a very critical eye. I had picked up three pairs of skin 
tight white bellbottoms, with flesh-showing laces at the sides. At an 
overpriced shop I found some vinyl shirts also with laces, that left a very 
large open space in the middle. The edges of the shirts just covered each 
nipple letting everything else show. I put on the most garish red lipstick 
and bleached my hair from its natural blonde to a trashy platinum/white. 
Within two hours I was looking into the reflected face of Ms. International 
Whore. In a way I really looked good and I snuggled up to the mirror and 
gave my reflection a kiss. I went out of the hotel by the back door. 

I had the address of the bar where the last victim had worked her trade. It 
was a very plush place in Wedding, Berlin's ritzy area. Drinks start at 
about 10 marks or about four American dollars. I walked in like I owned the 
place and the waiters acted like I really did. In a flash I had a center 
table and a drink. I was the new body in town and they were going to show me 
off to everyone that walked in. That was what I had hoped would happen and I 
acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It was still early and only a few people were in the bar, most of them 
hustlers. After I had sipped through half my drink, a beautiful young woman 
moved away from the wall she had been leaning against and stopped in front 
of my table. She was tall and looked a bit Scandinavian, with blonde hair 
(natural) and steel blue eyes. From the way she was dressed it looked like 
we had the same tailor. The laces of her slacks and blouse revealed a lot 
that was to my liking. I glanced around the room and counted at least five 
more widely revealed cleavages. I had the right uniform and there would be 
no doubt what I was doing there. The young woman in front of me must have 
been the local welcome wagon. I looked up at her and gave a medium friendly 
smile that didn't communicate very much but looked nice. She sat down and 
leaned over toward me. I could just about see the spot where her breast 
darkened into a full rich nipple. 

"Hello, you're new here aren't you?" Her voice was very soft and her lips 
were almost perfect in shape. "My name is Cindy and I've been around here 
for some time. I'm from the States originally." 

I gave her a nice grin and waved the waiter over and ordered us drinks. I 
finished the last bit in my first glass and looked right at Cindy with a 
deep intense glow, "My name is Carol and I am new here and I'm also from the 
States. Now that we have that out of the way, why don't you tell me when the 
action starts around this place. So far all I can see in here are working 
girls like myself." 

"What type of action are you looking for?" She was a little put off by my 
bluntness but she wasn't ready to leave the table over it. My hand moved 
over the top of the table and touched hers and I told her what I wanted. 

"Action that pays off in fun and money." I leaned closer to her and dropped 
down to a lower tone. "Look, I'm out on my ass and there is no chance that 
my sugar daddy will take me back. I've got enough money for about one week 
before it is time to start fucking winos for enough money to buy food. I'd 
much rather fuck some nice old man in a soft bed than to scrap my ass in an 
alley. Now do you know what I'm after?" 

"Yeah," she said, "I can see it. You're where I was at last year. Look, 
there are more than enough old men with fat cocks to keep us all going 
strong for years. If you stick around here and people like you there won't 
be any alleyway in your future. If you want, I'll show you around." 

I found myself starting to dig this kid. She knew what was going on and also 
knew there was no need to be greedy. We sat at the table and talked for 
about an hour. She told me what the going price was in Berlin and how much 
could be tacked on for special service duty. An all night trick that was 
only sucking and fucking was worth between twenty and thirty dollars. If the 
John wanted to do something unusual the price started to go up. If you 
handled the trick right it was very easy to turn him for a hundred or so 
bucks by doing things to him that you usually did for fun with a lover. The 
orgy rate was a flat one hundred and fifty dollars per night and most 
everything went. I asked Cindy where the big money was, about the Johns that 
had tastes so way-out that only money could get people to join them in bed. 
She was silent for a moment and then told me. 

"The scene that really brings the money," she said, "is the bondage thing. 
If you can dig it you can turn three hundred a night. Most of us don't go 
for that bit though and don't really care for the people who dig it." 

"Shit," I told her, "for three hundred bucks I'd whip my own mother. What's 
wrong with beating some old man if he digs it?" 

"No, I'm afraid you've got it wrong." She looked right at me. "For the three 
hundred you let yourself get beaten, ya see? The guys that pay that money 
want somebody who doesn't mind getting hurt. The best thing to do is just 
stay clear of that kind of trip. There was one guy that picked up a girl 
here two nights ago and I think she really got hurt. The bulte, the cops, 
were in asking questions about her last night. I wanted to say something but 
I didn't, I don't want to screw up my friends with the cops. Still I wish I 
knew what happened to Gina, she left with a very strange looking guy that 
seemed, well, evil." I had done it again. Gina was the first name of the 
victim and this was the last place she had been seen. Cindy had gotten a 
good look at the man she was with. If I could get her to tell me some more, 
I would be all right. I had to pull some more information out of her. 

"What did this trick look like?" I asked. "I want to know so I can stay 
clear of him. Hate to ruin my bod for a few bills." 

"Like I said he looks sort of evil. Physically I guess that he's-" Her reply 
was cut short by the blast of a Mercedes horn from outside. She looked at 
the car and stood up. 

"Got to split," she told me. "A big trick is here and I don't want to keep 
this one waiting." She was out of the bar and gone before I had a chance to 
get an answer. I was right at the point of getting somewhere when my hopes 
shot off in a big black Mercedes. Cindy seemed to be a regular of the place 
and I hoped to talk with her later. I ordered another round and waited for 
something to happen. Nothing did. 

I went back to my hotel, taking the U-Bahn, the Berlin subway. I should have 
walked since it looks like the people who planned the subways were the same 
ones who designed the Italian catacombs. After a lost hour and a half I 
finally got to the hotel. I slept soundly. The next night I returned to the 
club. 

There was no sign of Cindy when I got there, and I asked one of the girls I 
had met last night if she was around. She told me that Cindy and her trick 
had gone to Paris and would not be back for days. She also said that no one 
knew the name of Cindy's lover and that there was no way to contact them. 
Even with the staff of ICO, looking for them was a long shot. If I had more 
information on the car and Cindy, I could put in-a call but there wasn't 
enough to work on. I marked her information for hold and got to talking with 
some of the other hustlers in the place. 

I wasn't able to get very much from any one person, but after talking with 
several people I had a very rough idea of what the killer might look like, 
if Gina had left with the killer. 

I was looking for someone that was normal height, dressed well but not 
outstanding, had no particular color of hair or skin and spoke in a voice 
that no one heard. Everyone I talked with had seen Gina leave with this guy 
and no one had seen her since. I had told them that Gina was a former girl 
friend of mine and they talked freely about her. I had a total zero for a 
description with two exceptions: Cindy had told me that he walked like a 
cat. It wasn't much but it was all I had. I was closer than before but not 
yet close enough. 

The buying patrons started to drift into the place and I got ready to do my 
best. It was time I let my old self out into the world and I might as well 
start right now. The only way the killer and I would meet was for a big hunk 
of bait to be put on the hook. I was the hook and my hooker talents were 
going to be the best bait since worms. 

 Chapter Six 

I hustled my ass like a pro and told people that hustling in the west should 
hold the same status that the Geisha held in Japan. A hustler was a creative 
artist and should be treated as such. I had my choice of bed mates and the 
ones I took offered me money and clothing in the morning. My fame grew 
throughout the "right" Berlin circles. 

I was told there would be a dinner in my honor at night and a party 
afterwards. I was to be ready at seven and would be picked up at my hotel at 
seven-thirty. The dinner was classic and I enjoyed every second of it. While 
at the table I noticed a man who seemed to have an air of distaste about him 
like he was looking at something dirty. When we left the table and started 
for the main hall of the house I saw that he moved with a gracefulness that 
was catlike. His body type was close enough to match what I knew of the 
killer and what I remembered of that horrible day three years ago ... but 
then so were the bodies of twenty other men in the room. Still, I made a 
note to keep an eye on him and find out his name. 

The party turned into a wild thing soon after dinner and everyone seemed out 
to impress me with as much noise as possible. There was drinking and singing 
and all the usual things that mark a party of Germans. As the night began to 
age and the people grew younger with drink, sex started to enter the party. 
A pat on the back took a drop of sixteen inches and handshakes started to 
take place in places other than hands. A confidential whisper became a 
tongue in the ear and clothing began to fall from bodies. The host yelled 
out that the air conditioners were kaput and that everyone should feel free 
to strip down to the buff. In the space of a minute the room was filled with 
fifty nude, nordic bodies from the age of sixteen up to forty. I stripped 
out of my own clothing and the inside of my cunt grew hot. Lovers and others 
began to caress each other and thirty pricks seemed to harden at once. I was 
getting hot and I made up my mind to enjoy this night. Fingers touched my 
hard nipples and lips nibbled between my legs. 

I looked down to see a girl of about eighteen push her head between my legs. 
I put my hands on her head and guided her nose deep into my curly cunt hair. 
The tip of her tongue touched my clit and saliva dripped down the inside of 
my leg. She worked her mouth around in such a way that I knew I wasn't the 
first twat she'd eaten. I closed my eyes and stood with my hips jutting 
forward. At the back of my knee I could feel another tongue touch and then 
march upwards to my asshole. The wet form pushed back the rounded skin and 
danced down the narrow crack and touched the muscled rim at the bottom, A 
third tongue touched me and then a fourth and a fifth. A prick tickled each 
of my palms and I closed my fists around them and began pumping. I could 
smell the odor of hot men and women around me and soon more and more tongues 
and lips touched and licked at me. 

Every space, every part of me seemed to be crawling with tongues. They 
inched over my standing form like a hundred erotic worms that thought me an 
apple. Three of these creatures were in my cunt, and two more in my asshole. 
I was rising to such a pitch I pumped harder and more furiously at each of 
the pricks in my hands. I soon felt them throb and I turned and aimed them 
at the face of the beautiful girl who was the first to offer me her tongue. 
She left my twat in time to catch the first spurts on her tongue, the other 
missing and falling down over her face and breasts. It was as if I too had 
come and I went slack. I was lowered and placed on the floor. I drew the 
musk air into my lungs and there was an almost painful throbbing in my cunt. 
I forced my eyes open and saw forms dropping down around me. Everyplace I 
looked were hot boxes and stiff pricks each ready for the other. My mind 
reeled and I leaned back to feel new sensations. This time it was cocks and 
not tongues. I took two of them in my hands and pressed them to my face. Two 
stiff points passed through my lips and I loved two men with a single 
tongue. My aching empty box was soon filled with another throbbing prick. My 
asshole too was not long left empty. Someone had climbed under me and as I 
lay on top of him he inserted his cock into my now filled asshole. Blunt, 
wet lances attacked my ears and eyes. I freed one hand and reached out. A 
young woman immediately placed its moving fingers against her cunt and I had 
another new toy to play with. I felt the twin cocks in my mouth pump almost 
simultaneously and both then spurted their hot sour cum down my throat 
together. They withdrew to be replaced by the girl who was at my hand. She 
seated herself on my face so that it was a little difficult to breathe, but 
I didn't care. I could taste fresh cum on her snatch and knew she had been 
as active as I. 

Great gobs of explosive white, shot into my cunt as the cock there relieved 
itself. I shook like a dying animal at the thrill and squirmed to the feel 
of liquid inside me. I groaned. 

Now the body under me went tight as it fired a mass of slick gism into my 
asshole. The sweat of our bodies mixed as I fell back on his chest and he 
shook for one last time before his wet member slid free. A bubble of air 
trapped inside broke free and my rear farted at his pulling away. Soon a 
newer longer member replaced each of the first. Driving deeper, past the wet 
cum, driving me to new heights of pleasure as I munched harder on the clit 
of the girl who sat on my face. I looked up and could see through the pubic 
hair that her mouth too, was active as another man stood above with his cock 
deep into her mouth. I could see his balls swing hitting her chin with each 
thrust. 

The girl I was eating was grunting in pleasure. As she came her love juices 
ran down the sides of my mouth forming little puddles in my ears before 
dripping to the floor. The cocks in my cunt and asshole also exploded and I 
opened my eyes to see two lines of men jerking themselves off on either side 
of me. Suddenly I was awash in cum. Covered from head to foot. Swimming in 
it. I rubbed it over my body, another girl joined me, she began to lick it 
off. The pleasure was so intense I thought I would faint. 

I came and came again. I pressed my head deep into the plush carpet. 

My cunt was red and tender by the time the party had slowed to the point of 
inaction. There was a full feeling inside that wasn't from the dinner table 
and the fluids of half a dozen men leaked out of my cunt and asshole. The 
floor was covered with nude, sleeping bodies that were spotted with flecks 
of drying cum, saliva and twat juice. Some had gone to sleep with their limp 
pricks still in the mouths of the women. I stretched my sore limbs and went 
to look for an empty bathroom. 

I showered in first hot, then cold water and repeated the cycle until my 
body felt fresh and strong. The orgy had taken a lot out of me and had given 
new insights on life. This was the first time I had been part of such a 
large orgy. There had been a few times with five or six members and parties 
where everyone was nude and active but never such a mass effort as thirty 
people. There was something very tribe-like and basic about such a sexual 
free-for-all and while it had been fun, there was no real desire on my part 
to try it again for some time. I still like to choose my partner, and an 
orgy doesn't give me that choice. Half the people I had made it with 
tonight, I didn't know, and there was no way to know about the other half 
whose faes I couldn't see. My body had been very excited by the scene but my 
mind was a shade uptight with the memory of frantic, yet casual sex with 
anybody in reach. 

I cleaned myself inside and out and went hunting for my clothes. They were 
draped over the back of a chair and I was able to dress without stepping on 
any sleepers. Pulling a cigarette from the pocket of my little jacket I 
walked out to the cool silence of the garden. A mixture of smoke and chilly 
Berlin air flowed down my throat and then back up. A large clock in the city 
rang three times and there was a dog barking on the other side of the house. 
Everything seemed so crisp and sharp and for an instant my mind was still 
and peaceful. 

The spell was broken by a tight, curt voice filled with bitter distaste. I 
turned and looked at the face of the tense catlike man from dinner. His eyes 
were flashing with some deep hate and his lips looked dry. He glared at me 
and there was little doubt in my mind that he was going to shake my hand. 

"Well, if it isn't the Hooker-Queen of Berlin." His English held traces of 
being learned from an American. He moved a step closer and kept talking. 
"You super whores make me sick. Did you enjoy that scene tonight? Does it 
give you a sense of power to see fifty strong, brave Germans act like pigs? 
You are nothing but a piece of shit. Ach, the world would be better 
completely free of your kind." 

Things were clicking and falling into place. He had gone for the bait and 
there was a chance he was the fish I wanted. My gut and brain grew tense as 
I brought the bait closer. 

"Yes," I snapped with a bitchy tone, "I enjoyed the feeling, the glow that 
comes from people loving each other. Group sex is the sign of honest people 
with no fear of love. It's closed-ass cowards like you that make life 
difficult for the honest hustler. You rape some little girl and feel guilty 
for it later. Things like you are the ball-less bottlenecks that try to make 
a joyful act between men and women a sordid, ugly thing. Go home and beat 
yourself off." 

His face turned deep red and his hands became fists. There was a violent 
vibration in the undertones of his voice which said, "If you were a woman 
with any sense of her sex I would teach you not to speak to me like that. 
You are a weak excuse for a human being and not even that. I would dirty 
myself if I taught you the proper forms of respect. You are scum, nothing, 
only an animal that has learned to bathe in cum. You can never be made to 
understand what the true feelings between a man and a woman can be." He spat 
at my feet and started to walk away. 

"Your brain is soft from too much guilt and you can't think past your own 
fuck-ups." He stopped and kept his back to me as I went on. "You're sick. 
You worry so much about getting caught with your prick in a whore's cunt 
that you can't think, that you can't function. Stay like you are and when 
the rest of us have broken free maybe you'll find some- one who gets a 
thrill out of fucking a crazy men!" That pushed the button he couldn't 
control. Telling a German he isn't right in the head is the same as telling 
an American he fucks his mother, his brother and the family dog. 

His face turned livid as he turned and stalked toward me. He was sputtering 
in German. He stopped and shifted back into English and continued to rant at 
me. While he carried on, part of my mind let me know there was a good chance 
I had blown it. I had hit deep and he was too mad to stop and take the path 
I had wanted him to. The only way I would know he was my target was if I 
went home with him. I had to do something to get in his bed. On a long shot 
I slapped his face with the back of my hand. 

He stopped in mid-word and shock replaced anger. There was a hint of a welt 
on his cheek and he touched his fingers to the white tensed skin. I played 
the last card and prayed that it wouldn't blow the entire plan. 

"Nobody, and I mean nobody talks to me like that." I kept my voice low. 
"Look, mister, I'm more of a lady than you'll ever have. More than you'd 
ever know what to do with. Try me with your brand of love and we'll see if 
you've got the balls to keep up with me." It was a very long five seconds 
before he spoke. "All right." His voice was crisp again. "You will see and 
feel what it means to be loved by a man and not an animal. Come with me." He 
walked toward the gate and I was right behind. 

He did not talk during the drive to his house. I sat in silence and wished 
that my gun was with me. This ride might lead me into a thing that couldn't 
be handled with just my ICO training. I had really blown this one from the 
start and a cold ball of fear inched up my spine. When the car stopped, I 
was ready to run but something held me back and we walked into his house. He 
told me to stay put until he turned on the lights. I pressed my back to the 
door and waited for the lights to come on. 

The lights flicked on and a quick glance at his hands told me he wasn't 
armed. I wanted to run, to get away from the house and let someone else 
check him out, but Susan's memory made me walk down that hall. If I couldn't 
do this for her, then I really was nothing more than a fuck-box. I still 
wasn't sure this was my man but for my own mind, I needed to know if he was 
the killer. He was still walking in front of me when something very hard 
slammed into the back of my skull and everything went black. 

Icewater hit my face and I woke up with a pain at the base of my skull. My 
eyes opened and two men were standing in front of me. The haze cleared as I 
shook water from my face and that cold feeling became very strong. My hands 
were bound to a chain that went through a pulley on the ceiling. I moved 
them once and felt metal bite my skin. I heard a strange laugh and turned my 
head toward the two men. 

The lean cat-person I had come with was giving me a cold smile. I ran 
through my mind that I didn't even know his name. Standing next to him was 
something that didn't look real. It might have once been a man but now was a 
collection of plastic and steel devices. One arm was a slender steel machine 
with three claws for fingers. The other arm was all flesh but twisted and 
covered with huge muscles. 

That must have been the arm that knocked me out. 

The left leg was plastic and I couldn't tell about the other. In my street 
trade I had seen lots of guys with artificial limbs so that didn't really 
bother me. 

What was giving me cold shocks was his face. 

It looked like a fire burn had been the cause. One eye socket was dark and 
empty and the other held a pale light. The nose was gone and there were no 
lips, only bare gums and teeth. A stream of saliva-dripped out of the 
misshapen hole that passed for a mouth. The skin of the thing ranged from 
flesh pink plastic to yellow flesh that seemed dead. The one eye it had kept 
looking at me. 

The lean fish I had baited walked over to me. He stared down at my nude form 
and gave a laugh I didn't like. "Ah yes," he said, "we find out the truth. 
We will see what kind of woman you really are. Do you see what is behind me, 
that twisted and replaced man? He is my son and I love him more than you can 
understand. His plane crashed and that is all they were able to save. It 
doesn't matter, I love him and will do anything for him. Tonight you are 
going to love him and do what he desires. Do you understand?" 

My head gave a dull nod while the back of my brain yelled out in fear. The 
very thought of physical contact with such a horror did strange things to my 
mind. Kissing a lipless mouth, being stroked by a mishapened hand or a steel 
claw made me want to scream. When I was young there had been a book about 
lepers in my father's den. It was a cheap and sensational thing about sex 
habits among people with the disease. One passage had described how lepers 
will lose huge hunks of rotted flesh or entire limbs during sex and not 
notice. That part of the book had given me dreams of my breasts turning 
rotted grey and falling off as a pile of mushy tissue. I had also dreamed of 
having sex and watching my partner turn to pudding and fall apart in bed. 
All the lepers of my childhood sprang to life as I looked at my future 
partner. 

"Good, very good," continued my jailer, "now you can understand what I meant 
tonight. You were so willing to let any man enter your body and you were 
willing to even play with other women. Now i just one man and that is all. I 
think perhaps this will prove a few points about womanhood." He grabbed the 
other end of the chain and pulled me toward the ceiling. My feet were only 
an inch off the floor but I was helpless. 

I slowly turned on my chain and couldn't see the men behind me. A strange 
sound hit my ears and it took time to fully recognize the source. It was the 
dull hollow tapping of a plastic leg as he walked toward my back. The sound 
stopped and a cold rounded claw touched the small of my back with robot 
tenderness. A wet, hissing voice moved past my left ear, a voice that came 
from a lipless mouth. "Yesssss, nisssssce." The voice was not human. '1 
wanthhh to luffff, to hhfuc yoooo deeeef insthide. Luffers tonight, all 
night. Yessss." 

I pulled at my chains and the tip of a short whip bit my back. "Hold still!" 
My host was going to make sure I was good, with a whip if needed. Another 
sting kissed my back with just enough force to make me jerk. Another snap of 
leather on flesh sounded and the blows became harder. Each time he hit, it 
was with a little more force and gave a little more pain. I bit my lip 
during the last six blows to keep from yelling. The taste of my own blood 
was sharp. He sent the last blow into the lower part of my back and then 
told me to behave. "You will," his voice sounded like the ship, "let Mark do 
what he wants. The more he likes you, the longer I will let you live." 

The hissing voice and steel finger were behind me again. Mark was hissing 
more words of passion while his claw poked between my legs into my body. The 
steel was cold and the mad part of my mind saw my cunt ripped out and the 
insides thrown on the floor. I was shocked to find that I was being very 
rational about the entire affair. Three years before, I would have been 
frantic with plans and trying to escape. Instead I was very calm and clear 
in most of my mind. I could understand that this was a very high form of 
love between a father and his son. I could also understand why Mark's father 
had taken such a dislike to me. His son could never be sexually "free". Even 
the horror of being taken by a monster had faded and I could feel sorry for 
his condition. Even though there was great calm in most parts of me, I still 
had no desire to die. The cold fingers were an inch up my sore cunt when I 
was hit for the second time on the back of the head and blacked out. 

I was on a cold floor and my hands were behind my back. I looked up and saw 
a Nazi officer standing over me. To the side stood another officer with half 
a face and a steel hand. My two playmates had added something new to the 
game. A boot hit my chest as I tried to stand up. The force knocked my body 
into the floor. There was a ringing sound in my head as the man began to 
talk. 

"So, you think you can resist?" His voice had an insane undertone. "Well, we 
have ways to make you see reason, ways to make you give in." It was like the 
script from a very bad war movie. I wanted to laugh, to look at the humor. 
Instead I made another lunge for his body and a boot exploded into my cunt. 
I was forced to crawl around the room and lick their boots. Mark pushed his 
boot up my ass and his father told me to lick it clean. After a few kicks 
were placed in my ribs, I licked. They grew tired of kicking and hitting me 
and my cat-like host withdrew his gun and walked behind me. Everything 
seemed to be in slow motion. It seemed like hours before the tip of his gun 
touched the base of my skull. This was it and there were a lot of questions 
that ran around my brain looking for answers. Mark's face looked from across 
the room and in the instant before the blow knocked me forward, his face 
changed to Susan's. There was a slamming on my skull and everything stopped 
cold and black. 

I was floating on something soft and warm and there were lips nibbling away 
at my cunt. There was a soft glow before my eyes and it grew stronger. My 
eyelids popped open and above me was a soft white ceiling with gold fingers 
over me. I sat up on my elbows and saw a blond head over my crotch. My hands 
touched the head and made sure it was real. His tongue probed deeper until a 
few soft juices trickled into his throat. It was not an exceptional climax, 
but it made me let out a small gasp. The head pulled back and the handsome 
face looked at me with deep, Nordic eyes. I was confused and it took a 
moment to form a question. 

Before the question could come out, there was the answer standing by the 
bed, a smile on his cat-like face. 

"You are not," he said as I tried to understand, "dead, in the afterworld, 
or insane. You are in my house in Berlin and there is nothing to worry 
about." 

"JUST WHAT SORT OF FUCKING GAME IS THIS!!!!" I jumped out of bed too angry 
to care about any danger. The blond boy who had eaten me to wakefulness fell 
to the side and got out of my way. 

"Ach, please," said the man that had once placed a gun at the back of my 
head. "Let me explain. What happened tonight was all part of a game that 
Mark and I play. We find that excitement is very strong when there is a mood 
of death and horror. To watch a woman at the point of death is sensual. That 
is why we played the games with the ships and the uniforms, to make you 
think that death was ready. You were much more of a woman than I thought, 
much more." His eyes dropped to my cunt. 

I was pissed, confused, hurt, and about a million other things at the same 
time. "Do you mean to tell me that this was all a put-on, a sick fantasy for 
you to get off on? What about that freak thing that was going to fuck me? 
Where does fucking Mark come in?" 

He put his hand on the blond boy's head and looked at it with a smile. "This 
is Mark. What you saw at first is a collection of props from horror films. I 
thought they were very effective. But enough of this talk, let both Mark and 
me welcome your womanly body back to life. You still have the taste of death 
in your cunt, I want to experience it." 

Mark and his father unzipped their pants and came after me, begging me to 
stay, to let them fuck me. I was offered money, a car, whatever I wanted if 
only they could put their pricks into me. The only thing I wanted was to get 
away from them and nothing more. As I walked out, they both asked me to whip 
them. A tempting offer like that was hard to turn down but I knew the only 
thing that would hurt them was rejection. After all the games and bullshit 
that had been structured to get me in bed I was walking out. I hoped his 
mental nuts would ache for a week. I stepped out into the early morning 
street and started walking. 

 Chapter Seven 

During the next three days, Berlin grew to know me well. I hit all the right 
clubs and street corners. I talked about the right people and said the right 
things. A lot of people saw through me but they didn't matter. The people 
that found me witty, relevant, informed and beautiful were the ones I needed 
to impress. It was through them my fame would spread. 

Berlin was getting a bit stale and it was time to move on. The grapevine 
reported the south coast of France would be wild during the next two weeks 
and so the south it would be. I started dropping the word around that I must 
leave for a warmer climate. There was no need to mention where, since every 
hustler in Europe was going to spend the next two weeks at Cannes and fuck 
with the movie stars. I planned to be in the front row every night. 

Cannes is an over-rated stretch of beach with high prices and poor service. 
For some unknown reason, it is the site of film festivals and other 
international put-ons. While the films that are shown often are the worst 
crap to slip from the asshole of a camera, the show that goes on around 
Cannes is fantastic. 

The streets are filled with people who look famous, would like to be famous, 
and a few that really are famous. Mixed in with this collection are 
tourists, hustlers, whores, pushers, pick-pockets, blackmailers and cops. 
The bars are stocked with young girls and boys that are waiting to be rented 
for the night. There is a lot of competition between the male and female 
hustlers since a lot of movie people don't care what gender warms the bed. 
The rest of the year Cannes is a drag, but for two weeks it is the wildest 
city in Europe. 

I was talking with some director from England when someone who is classed as 
Famous walked over to me. He looks just as good as his films make him out to 
be. More than once I had spent a night with my hand in my cunt and his image 
in my head. He walked with great bearing and the director took off to 
somewhere else. The actor took my hand and walked me to the bar. "May I buy 
you a drink?" he asked. We sipped our drinks and talked about politics and 
the social system in America and I was susprised to find that he knew what 
he was talking about. His outlook was that of the early 60's and he felt 
there was a chance for mankind if all the bullshit would stop. I soon 
stopped thinking of him as an actor and got into his head as a person. 

It was getting late and he suggested that we go to his hotel for something 
more to drink in his room. I felt excited inside but kept my cool front and 
we walked the two blocks to where he was staying. The clerk didn't bat an 
eye as we walked in and went to the elevator. We went to his room and he 
pulled out a fresh bottle of gin and we got down to some serious talking and 
drinking. 

There seemed to be something bothering him but I couldn't figure out what it 
was. I kept looking at his solid shape and thinking of how he would be in 
bed. We continued to drink and I waited for him to make a move, to suggest 
that we go to bed but he avoided the subject of sex and stayed on politics. 
The first bottle died and he pulled out another. 

I was getting very drunk and very hot. There was almost steam coming from my 
cunt. I tried sitting in a manner that would show off more of my body and 
let him know how I felt. Finally he mentioned sex. 

"I guess that you thought I brought you up here to fuck." His speech was 
thick with rye. "I sure would like to but you've got to make me a promise 
before anything happens. Okay?" 

I thought that he would want me to keep quiet about fucking him or something 
like that. I looked at him and nodded. 

"Very good, very good," he said. "What you've got to promise is that you 
won't tell anybody about my prick, I mean how it looks. You want to tell the 
world that you screw Charles Beesley, go ahead. Just don't tell them about 
my tool." He stood up and turned his back and undressed. 

When he turned around, I was nude and my box was hot. His body didn't look 
as good as I hoped but he was still a good looking man. My eyes dropped down 
to his crotch and I saw why he asked me not to talk. 

His prick was covered with heavy lumps under the skin. Thoughts of rare 
forms of VD hit my mind followed by the thought of cancer. He saw my 
confusion and explained. 

"What you see is the result of a fucking quack doctor. Told me that silicone 
would make it bigger just like it does with tits. It was great for about six 
months and then the fucking plastic shit he put in broke down. I've got a 
lumpy rod and the fucking doctor had left the country. Can't let the world 
know I've got a lumpy cock, bad for the image. Can't talk about it or it 
won't get hard. Plastic's fucked up the tubes. You'll have to work it a bit 
before it will be able to perform." 

I pulled him down to the bed. His prick felt funny in my mouth, like a 
rotted cucumber. I sucked it for all that I was worth. Gradually I felt the 
lumps shift as the prick grew harder. I tried to concentrate on his face 
rather than think about the deformed organ I was sucking. I kept an image of 
him as I had seen him on the screen. It worked. I was getting hot. 

I played with the tip of his cock nibbling it gently then swishing it back 
and forth in my mouth. It was still stretched from the silicone, so that as 
it hardened it was difficult to keep the entire organ inside. I gagged. 

He twisted, using his cock in my mouth as a pivot. He had his head nestled 
between my legs and ate away like a pro. He played with my clit as I played 
with his cock. Both of us were near the point of no return. 

But this was Charles Beesley. I didn't want to have blown him, I wanted to 
have fucked him. I didn't care if his cock was as lumpy as my mother's 
potatoes, I wanted it in me. 

I let go of his cock and he got the message. He licked my cunt once more, 
then turned around. I spread my legs and pulled him close. He pushed inside. 

Something clicked. His deformity must have somehow exactly matched up with 
my most sensitive points. I was in heaven. And so was he, it seems. 

"Oh fucking yes," he screamed. "Let me shove that thing into you." 

I couldn't hold back. "Fuck me, fuck me so deep I can taste it. Cock, that's 
what I want, all the hard mutated swollen cock you have. Ram it in my cunt, 
in my cunt, douse my cunt. Got to have it... got to have all your cock. 
Long, hard, let me suck you, fuck you." 

"I'll fuck you!" he said pushing harder. "Now, Now, NOW!!!! GOD I'M COMING 
I'M COMING!!'-' He came. He shot his heavy load deep into my insides. I came 
with him dripping in ecstasy. Our bodies shook in unison and we finally 
drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning he had left by the time I awoke. There was a note that 
said, See you around, and three hundred dollar bills. I felt funny about 
taking that much but it was all part of the game. If he felt that was what I 
was worth, then that was what I would take. Anyway, the money would come in 
handy. And I promised myself never to tell anyone the real secret of Charles 
Beesley. 

The next night the phone woke me with a shrill ring. Ducasse's voice shot 
out of the earphone and was almost as shrill as the ring. "Goddamn, Waters, 
did you get him? He hit in Cannes last night. Get going and get something 
done." The phone clicked dead before I could reply. I jumped up and got. 
dressed and went to the police station. 

The body had been removed from the scene. Tests were being run on the victim 
and the police showed me photographs of the scene. It was the man I was 
after, one look was enough to show that. His motives were the same too. 
Beneath her severed tits, carved into the flesh of her stomach was the word 
"WHORE". My man was getting more savage as time went on. 

There was no reason to stay in Cannes any longer. The killer was now on his 
way to some new spot and it was up to me to guess. Cannes had been a stroke 
of luck, the next choice would be based on logic. It would take some time 
for me to make a choice and right now was the time to start. 

After three hours of deep thought on all the sex spots in Europe, the place 
slammed true as a home run. The only scene where there was always action no 
matter what else was going on was Amsterdam. That was the one place he had 
failed to hit and now was the time. The move that most people would guess 
was Paris so Amsterdam would be the real place to look. I needed to do some 
more work in Cannes but I would grab the night flight out if there was one. 
I packed my bags and got set to leave. 

 Chapter Eight 

Home was clean and neat. The new maid seemed to know what she was doing. I 
took a bath and then slept to awake feeling fresh. There was food in the 
refrigerator, and over coffee and a cigarette a new plan began to form. If 
things went right, and that was everything in the plan, the hunt would be 
over. I toasted the plot with the coffee dregs and another cigarette. 

Amsterdam at night is shocking, wonderful, dirty and the brightest town on 
Earth. I slipped into my whore clothes and went hunting for the Ripper. I 
decided to try the Bad Manners. Amsterdam's most incredible sex place. 

Inside, the Bad was covered with strobe lights and color organs. Over the 
bar was a seven foot model of an erect penis studded with lights. The lights 
were hooked to a color organ and they throbbed to the sound of the music. 
The effect of such a massive, glowing thing was very erotic at times. Sex 
was the password at the place, and for once, it was a place where it was 
done as much as said. 

It was not unusual to find people fucking in the back booths and sometimes 
on the table. The club had a steam room that was known around the world. I 
had never gone in there because it was so wild, but I guessed now would be 
as good a time as any to try. I paid my two guilders and walked in for a 
"steam bath". 

Even the hallway was packed with action. One couple hadn't cared to wait 
until they were in the steam room and were balling on the floor. The other 
patrons stepped by or over them. The two did not seem to care that everyone 
could watch them, in fact, they didn't notice that there was anyone else 
around. There was a heat growing in my pants as I walked past the groaning 
pair. 

In most countries steam rooms and "baths" if they exist at all are confined 
to old health fanatics or young queers, but in Amsterdam, anyone can join in 
the fun and does. 

The locker room was a mass of hands and lips that seemed to touch and then 
run. At the very least, while I was undressing, four sets of lips placed 
thirty second kisses on my nipples. Hands touched and cupped my twat but 
never seemed to follow through. By the time I walked into the steam room I 
think I was hotter than the steam. The hot vapor hugged me as I walked into 
a shadow filled orgy. 

Through the hot steam danced figures in sexual postures. Fingers tripped up 
and down and played games with my cunt, ass and tits. A wet mouth that held 
more heat than the wet steam tasted and then took in a nipple. A finger went 
down to my cunt and played with my pulsating clit. I let it play until I was 
only a few seconds from cuming and then I pulled away. Another hand grabbed 
me and pulled gently toward the right. With my tit in the lead, I followed 
the pulling force. 

The hand placed the tip of a cock in between my thighs. He took a half step 
forward and drove into the hole with power. Fm sure he could hear my soft 
groan above the hiss of the steam. He made long slow strokes that pushed my 
murmuring moan to a shriek. The shriek rose and I was jerking and shaking 
around the length of his prick. My warm hole went tight and then loose as 
his first load of the day shot into me. 

I pulled the cum-drenched part of me free and went looking for other action 
within the fog. 

Everywhere I turned there were hands and mouths and cocks and cunts that 
were ready for some hot pussy. I grew tired of walking around and sat down 
on the bench to wait for some strong man to come to me. 

In the silver gloom came the shape of a Viking boat, long and hard-prowed. 
My hand slid down the keel and the long-boat docked in my cunt. With my 
lower lips for rags, I rubbed down the craft until it was ready to land its 
cargo. The rare oils that are only found in the bodies of strong men gushed 
up my tubes. The boat held for a moment and then put back out to the foggy 
sea. 

I stood and walked about some more, putting whatever was offered to me into 
whatever I had to offer. I sat, not on a bench, but on the erect penis of 
some quiet man. He never said a word the entire time that he was in me. He 
came without a sound and pushed a large amount of thick, hot gism up my 
cunt. His pole began to shrink and was soon a limp finger that rubbed the 
insides of my thighs. I stood up and walked on. 

After an hour in the bath, the heat began to sap my strength. I groped for 
the door and, after rubbing a few cocks and cunts, found it. Cold air flowed 
around me and I stood in a small room that sprayed cold water. My skin grew 
tight from the impact of the cold. I kept walking. 

The last room was the lounge. Flashing lights shot patterns on the walls and 
the room looked much like the bar except here everyone was nude. Masses of 
hot flesh rolled about the floor and the scene was much like that in Berlin: 
The memory of that night was still strong and I didn't spend any time in the 
lounge. 

I dressed and stepped into the bar for a drink. I made myself obvious and 
passed the word that I was the world's greatest hustler and although I gave 
it out tonight, in the future it would cost-and cost plenty. 

I returned to the Bad often. I wanted to make sure my trap was well set. It 
was two weeks when the fish walked into the net. He was the right build and 
there was something about him that seemed to hang like a shroud. He came 
into the Bad Manners and asked to speak with me. He was brought to the table 
and signals started ringing in my head. Everything about him seemed to 
foretell danger and a cool fire burned in my chest. 

There must be a great thrill that comes from putting your head in the mouth 
of a lion and that was the type of thrill that he brought out in me. A part 
of me wanted to. dance as near the edge of death as possible and that part 
began to grow. After more than three years of tracking and hurting, he was 
coming to me and my pain and quest would soon end. The taste of his capture 
was on my lips but I held back to make sure.. There had been two other times 
that taste filled my mouth only to turn sour. I nodded to him and we talked. 

"I have been told," he spoke without a trace of any accent, "that you are 
Amsterdam's finest prostitute. If that is the case, I wish to speak with 
you." He leaned toward me and my hand rested on the butt of my gun, muscles 
ready. 

"Since that is the case," he fished his eyes, "may I be so forward as to 
offer my help to you. My name is, for all that it matters, Carr. That is the 
only name I use. I have talents that may be of great use to you." 

Blood was shooting through my veins, but it didn't show. I dropped my voice 
and asked him, "What sort of talents can you offer?" 

"My talents are in the areas of the human body. Many of us can learn to give 
pleasure, but only a few can truly give pain. Every method of sensory 
excitement the body can understand is my forte. It is in the area of rare 
sensations and pain that I am truly expert." 

It was like a savage hunger that ripped into my belly as I looked at him. He 
was the one, the mad Ripper that had taken Susan's life and three years of 
my time. I wanted to pry open his coat and look for steel blade beneath. He 
wanted to let me use his talents as a pain master to help me as a Perhaps he 
had heard that I would do anything for a price. I knew what he really wanted 
to do. 

He wanted to take my tits and slice them from my body. He wanted to feel my 
guts puke out from the hole between my legs. I wanted his entire body much 
more than he wanted my tits or my cunt. His body, mind, and twisted essence 
were going to, if just for a second, belong to me as payment for the hell he 
had put me through and what he had done to Susan. My cool cover remained 
intact and I spoke. "I think your talent could be very exciting. Tell me, 
are you willing to give a demonstration?" 

An excited, greedy expression touched him for one second then faded. "Why 
yes," his voice bland and tense in the same breath. "Would this Friday night 
be acceptable?" 

My tongue grazed my lips. "This Friday will be fine." My fingers touched End 
of my pistol and six bullets begged to puncture his sick body. Maybe he 
would fight and then I would have to kill him. I wanted to kill him as he 
had killed. Three shots, one for each tit and one where it hurt the 
most...He withdrew from the table and dropped out of my sight. 

The next night I went out to a local bar to ease the tension of the wait. My 
mood was good. There were few patrons in the place and I just sat with my 
drink. 

I was about ready to leave when a man walked in and the bottom seemed to 
fall out of my stomach. 

He wasn't that handsome but some kind of magnetic force danced around his 
body. He was slim and dark haired and walked with the grace of a dance. I 
could feel my blood heat and my box slowly moisten. 

He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. I was thinking of some nice 
way to invite him over when he came over to the table. I looked up and gave 
a pleasant smile. In a soft tone he told me, "If you are waiting for 
someone, I'll leave." 

He was the only one worth waiting for in the place. I offered him a chair 
and we began to talk and drink like old friends. We talked for three hours 
and never had a dull moment or awkward lull between us. Allen, as he was 
named, had been in Europe longer than me but didn't seem to know nearly as 
much about it. We talked cities and bars and all the usual sex talk that 
goes on between a whore and her John when they meet. Only for this guy I was 
no whore. Hell, if it came down to it, I'd pay. We talked about sex a lot 
and he asked me if I were the famous Carol Waters. He was very pleased to 
find that I was and mentioned that he had been looking forward to meeting 
me. 

Everything seemed to be running like clockwork. Soon I would be rid of the 
Ripper and there was a chance of a new lover in Allen. He seemed like the 
type that would be good to be around. I called for more gin and he slid his 
hand up my leg. His fingers rubbed my box through the cloth of my panties. 
My hand touched his lap and my own fingers traced the outline of a stiff 
round tube of flesh. We smiled and he invited me over for a long last drink. 

He opened the door to the hotel room and stood back while I walked in. He 
followed me in and the sound of the door locking shut reached my ears and I 
started to turn to kiss him. Something very hard connected with my head 
before I finished turning. I came to as Allen tied the last knot that held 
down my right leg. The left one and my arms were bound tight. There was a 
gag in my mouth and I was nude. I had been tied to an old wooden bed with 
nylon cord. There was a sense of deja vu about the scene and there was this 
fleeting feeling in my gut that somewhere a mistake had been made. I jerked 
at my bonds and managed to do nothing but rub skin from my wrist. 

"Please, Carol," Allen's voice was soft and altender, "don't hurt yourself 
by trying something stupid. I know you don't understand what is going on but 
you will find out in just a moment. You see, I am going to kill you and the 
reason you're dying is just the fact that you happen to be the kind of whore 
I hate. Before you die, you'll know why I hate whores and perhaps even 
understand something about me. Now Carol, I've got a big surprise for you." 
He started to remove his clothing and throw it in- to a plastic bag to 
protect it from the blood he expected. I was shocked when he took off his 
shirt. He had breasts that were like women's and the nipples stood out red: 
I pulled at the bonds and only tore more skin. 

His pants fell down and he reached inside of his shorts and pulled out a 
sausage and held it up. "That is what your filthy whore hands were playing 
with." He pulled off the shorts and I looked into the crotch of a woman. 

Allen was female, totally female. The bar scene was just part of an act, 
part of the bait I went for. 

"You should perhaps call me Ellen, and not Allen," he said. I couldn't 
figure out why a woman would have so much hatred for a whore. 

"I'm not a woman," the person continued, "not really. I used to be a man. 
That was before the operations that made me carry this ugly thing as a fake 
cock. You don't think this is true but it doesn't matter. I'm going to take 
away your sex organs like they took away mine. I know it won't grow my own 
back but it makes me feel better. I should have stayed a man but everybody 
wanted me to be a girl. I thought I was, I thought I was a woman in a man's 
body. That's why the operations. I lost my prick for motherfuckers like you. 
See why you are going to die? Can you really blame me?" 

When I saw the straight razors taken out of a bag, what little bits that 
were left of my mind fell apart. 

I looked at the steel and mused upon how it was going to feel. Shock had set 
in and it was only a matter of time until I was dead. It was ironic that it 
should happen like this, but the universe is an ironic place to be. 

I could feel the shit break loose in my colon and push out on the sheet. The 
muscles around my bladder gave up and urine flooded the bed. It felt warm as 
blood was going to feel on my body. 

In the back of my head, the animals and beasts that lived deep in the 
shadows of my brain rushed upwards for one last breath of air. The animal 
that Gorkoff had showed me took control. I would die a mad beast that could 
only destroy and hate. I was glad that the rest of my mental structure had 
ceased to function. 

The bed shook as the animal took control. The steel had yet to touch but it 
didn't matter. The bed shook harder as my body fought and pulled and tried 
to break free. It was only a matter of seconds that death would stall. 
Somewhere in the distance came the sound of breaking wood. My body tilted a 
funny way and more wood snapped. Unable to break the bonds, my body had 
broken the bed apart by pulling and jumping. I felt a jerk of movement and I 
was standing upright, my feet and hands free. 

The rest of the scene is almost as if I had watched it from the outside. I 
heard Allen scream once as my body grabbed him by the neck. I could hear the 
snapping of bones his head was bent back. My body then carried him over to 
the window and his body dropped six floors, head first. My body hit the 
overload point and everything went black. 

When I woke up there were police all over and rather than try to tell them 
about it, a call was placed to the local ICO office and they took care of 
the entire thing. Two days later I transferred to the Swiss station which is 
sort of a rest home. I stayed there six months. 

This all happened over a year ago and there are some loose ends to this that 
finally made sense. The important ones are that Carr was a fake, a small 
time freak with dreams of power. He played a good part but his skill at 
creative pain was limited to kicking people in the shin. Nothing ever 
happened to him. 

Allen was really a transsexual and had spent the first twenty years of his 
life as a male. He had been unable to adjust to being female and flipped 
out. I talked to a shrink about his style of killing and the good doctor 
said it was a common desire carried out to deadly points. 

He wanted me to escape. That was the reasoning behind his less than 
ingenious method of keeping me bound. He wanted me to kill him. That would 
be his way of final peace, his only hope. I was elected to bring hope to him 
as he'd brought despair to others. 

Well, I can't say that all is back to normal, but I'm trying. So, if you'll 
excuse me, I've got to call a connection about a matched set of sixteen year 
old Nordic twins that have learned some new tricks. It should be fun; there 
are some things I want to show them. 


END
