The Debauched Divorcee
by William Davis


FOREWORD 

The plight of the hapless divorcee in contemporary American life is vividly 
illustrated in this poignant novel by William Davis. Reno, the supposed 
Mecca for the quickie divorce, is presented in all its splendor-the splendor 
of the damned. All the elements of the bright lights, the exciting, but 
dangerous gamblers, the world of political intrigue are all present and well 
denned. 

Mr. Davis takes the story of only one of the faceless women who each year 
flock to his "Biggest little city in the world," and presents her as a live, 
feeling human being to the reader. It is not a nice story, as nice stories 
go, but it is a true story. I true story in the sense that it depicts the 
danger and pitfalls that so many of these desperate women encounter as they 
search for the Holy Grail of freedom from whatever their matrimonial 
problems may be. The young Joan Carpenter's story may or may not be typical, 
but it does typify, in a very real sense, the things that do go on, the 
things that are happening. 

Most women who do arrive there are penniless, just as Joan was and are 
forced to take any kind of employment that is available to them in order to 
pay for the matrimonial mistake they have made or have had forced upon them. 
This employment is not often one that they would accept under normal 
circumstances, but divorce is never a normal circumstance, and they seldom 
have choice. As a result, they quite often end up as part of the local Reno 
scene for years to come, either as outright prostitutes, or as gambling 
addicts not openly practicing the sale of their bodies but often times 
drifting in and out of it in order to earn another stake to return to the 
tables. 

Perhaps the essential value of Mrs. Davis's book is that it does illustrate 
the necessity for a change in the majority of our state divorce laws. If it 
were easier and more practical for a hopeless marriage to be dissolved in 
the home surroundings of a woman, she would be less-likely, in her lonely 
desperation, to drift into unpleasant situations such as Joan Carpenter 
does. 

We, the Publishers, deeply and sincerely hope that the message, so soundly 
presented within these pages shall not go unheeded by the Legislators 
guiding and shaping this great land of ours and that they, the people who 
are in a position to do the most, shall do something constructive about the 
present situation regarding divorce and the grim ramifications surrounding 
its present complexities. 

-THE PUBLISHERS 

 CHAPTER 1 

The mid-summer storm fell in dark diagonals across the towering office 
building. On the tenth floor, a man stood by the window of his private 
office, obliquely staring at the cars and buses as they inched their way 
with difficulty down the already inadequate main street of the San Francisco 
financial district. 

The muffled buzz of the intercom sounded and he turned away from the window 
and picked up the receiver. 

"Mr. Carpenter," the metallic voice of his secretary broke his pensive mood. 

"Yes, Estelle," he answered, holding tightly to the black instrument, "did 
you get the reservation?" 

"There's a six o'clock flight on Western Airlines from International. It's 
the only one open from Reno in the morning." 

"Okay...book me on it. And see if you can make arrangements for a car." 

He placed the receiver slowly back in its cradle, grateful that he was alone 
again with no one to intrude on his thoughts. 

Damn, he thought miserably, how in the hell did this happen? He picked up 
the telegram for the tenth time and scanned over the abbreviated sentences, 
hardly believing its contents. 

The brief message informed him that his wife, Joan, was in Reno going 
through the legal processes of ending their two-year marriage. Why did 
telegrams always sound so cold, he thought, and why didn't she at least 
write or call him...or give him some kind of a chance to explain what 
happened at the party the other night. 

Not that women could understand the ways of men when it came to sex, or vice 
versa. But the cold fact did remain that Joan had caught him making love to 
their next door neighbor, Gail Martin. The panorama of events were still 
sharp in his mind, too real and too close for him to remember it without a 
deep flush of guilt. 

He knew that if he could just have a chance to talk to Joan and convince her 
that the whole thing was little more than an absurd indiscretion on his 
part...and that he loved her...there might be a chance to save their 
marriage. He didn't want to lose her. Even with the problems they had been 
having, she was still the most wonderful woman he had ever known-the thought 
of what she meant to him, the unbearable pain if he lost her, brought hot 
stinging tears to his eyes. He brushed them away fiercely and tried to will 
his mind into blankness. 

He reached behind him to the portable bar and poured himself a vodka tonic, 
downing it with a few short gulps. The second drink was nursed more slowly 
as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts about how the whole thing 
really started and exactly what he would tell Joan when he found her in 
Reno...if he could find her. She'd left no forwarding address. 

When he thought back over the past few months, he could almost pinpoint when 
the trouble first began. Joan was getting restless with the role of suburban 
housewife and was anxious to start a family, but he wasn't ready, not yet. 
He wanted to secure his position in management, pay off a few bills and then 
continue life in a logical pattern. 

But Joan stubbornly refused to listen to his arguments, and became more 
difficult to live with as the weeks passed. At the time their quarrels had 
been short but constant, but they soon increased in intensity. And, he 
reasoned, if he didn't love her so much, he would have been tempted to move 
out. Most of all, Joan resented the fact that his job kept him at work 
sometimes until late at night; other nights he would have to lock himself up 
in the study to finish the work for the following day. 

Up until that one last night, he'd been faithful to Joan, although he knew a 
lot of his friends at work were not so concerned with their sanctimonious 
wedding vows. To be honest with himself, he had to admit that he never met 
Joan's equal before or after their marriage. Never really desired another 
woman, not after their first date together. 

It had been the night of Gail Martin's party. His marriage to Joan was at 
its lowest ebb, pushing in at him from all sides, and building into a 
pressure that had to find an outlet before the inevitable explosion. 

He had come home from work, completely exhausted by an unusually tiring day, 
and Joan had told him that she'd accepted an invitation to the party for 
both of them. He'd argued at first that he was too tired but it had only 
evolved into another fight and finally he'd given in and agreed to go, 
though her unfeeling insistence had put him into an even worse mood. 

He remembered at the party being bored and annoyed by the noisy crowd that 
congregated at Gail's that evening, while Joan cheerfully circulated through 
them, leaving him alone with his drink. 

Joan worked in an ad agency before they were married, and was used to the 
cocktail circuit. She enjoyed talking to the group of pseudo-literary types 
that Gail always gathered around when she entertained. 

The clamor in the living room was deafening; ribbons of cigarette smoke were 
heavy in the air, in spite of the open doors and windows, and those who 
weren't dancing crowded three-deep around the portable bar. Above the loud 
buzz of conversation, the stereo blared loudly away at the latest twanging 
rhythm of the psychedelic beat. 

He accepted a second drink when the hired butler approached him with a 
loaded tray, but remained on the outskirts of the crowd, too weary to join 
in social combat. 

He touched his lips to the rim of the glass, drinking its content in slow 
motion, unconsciously turning the rim with each new sip. The icy vodka 
burned at the back of his throat, overwhelming the fruity taste of the 
orange. The tranquilizing effect of the liquid was quick and effective, and 
already he could begin to feel the muscles at the base of his neck relaxing, 
the tension slackening. 

Across the room, Gail Martin was talking to a group of men...all deeply 
engrossed in what she was saying. Small wonder, Bill thought, studying the 
lines of her body so neatly outlined by the silk jersey dress which clung to 
the fleshy curves of her buttocks and breasts, accentuating her sensuous and 
desirable body. 

Gail had moved next door to Bill and Joan several months before, leasing the 
old Carter place for a year. She was from the East Coast, somewhere around 
New York, and came to California after divorcing her husband and receiving a 
huge property settlement. His thoughts were interrupted as he turned and 
found her staring at him. 

She flashed a smile to him from across the room. He flushed, not realizing 
at first that it had been he that had been staring at her. He smiled back 
and emptied his second drink, then someone shoved another full glass in his 
hand. His eyes wandered back to Gail, her back was to him now, and he was 
glad, Gail wouldn't need that much encouragement, he knew. The booze was 
getting to him, though, his eyes were wandering now over the tempting 
outline of her firm, full buttocks. 

And her long auburn air was sensual too, he half chuckled to himself. It was 
brushed casually up high and away from her temples..., natural the way he 
liked it. It flowed loosely down to shoulder length, and he noticed now that 
she had a habit of tossing her hair from side to side as she addressed each 
of her male admirers. She was the type of woman that exuded wild, 
uninhibited sex, he thought, always speaking breathlessly as if she had just 
run a mile, and always looking right into your pupils while she talked. 

In a the few months that she had moved to San Francisco, Gail had wasted 
little time in meeting what she considered the most interesting people. Gail 
seemed to have a flair for drawing these arty people close to her, she also 
had the money to keep them around indefinitely...contributing to benefits 
and throwing parties like this one for her own amusement. Bill wondered now 
why Gail had invited him and Joan; no one else in their neighborhood was 
present. 

He made a half-effort attempt to move around the crowd, talking to a few of 
the men on the fringe. The conversation was limited; they knew little about 
the mutual funds business, and he of the arts. Usually they lapsed into 
silence, contemplating their drinks, or drafting into a new conversation 
with the nearest group of people. 

Others gazed at him with a frozen grin; a remote look, nodding and smiling 
at appropriate intervals. In spite of the alcohol now pulsing through him, 
he was beginning to feel uncomfortable and tense with such a sophisticated 
set; he now regretted coming at all, and wanted to leave with Joan as soon 
as possible. But she was no where in sight. 

Then he noticed that Gail Martin had turned away from the men she was 
talking to and was trying to quiet the boisterous crowd so that she could 
make an announcement. Slowly the room hushed as the people realized their 
hostess was trying to get their attention. 

"Alright, everyone out to the patio," Gail announced. "And no fair sitting 
next to your own wife or husband," she added with a giggle. 

The tall, statuesque redhead led the crowd outside to their places at the 
huge redwood garden table. The air was filled with the spicy aroma of 
charcoal-cooked beef and two men were working behind the large barbeque pit 
near a long and loaded buffet table. 

Gail continued to give seating instructions, with her typical air of self 
assurance that was marred only slightly by the soft slur to her words. Bill 
could tell she was feeling no pain. 

Joan had finally broken away from the crowd to join him, but he was still 
annoyed at being dragged to the party and he purposely ignored her. 

"Joan, you sit here next to Sam," Gail said, suddenly appearing at their 
side, "and Bill, I'm putting you next to me at the head of the table." 

Joan Carpenter tried to hide the anger welling up inside her as she sat down 
next to Sam Bronson. First, Bill had acted as if she wasn't even there and 
then he'd followed Gail Martin with his eyes like an eager puppy. 

She felt a wave of revulsion pass through her as she sat down-of all the 
people present, Sam Bronson was the most obnoxious...a loud, vulgar man and 
insensitive to anyone but himself. When he wasn't expounding on his used car 
business, he had the habit of embarrassing his trapped audience with crude, 
off-color jokes. 

Joan glanced over at Bill, but he wasn't even looking in her direction. 
Instead, he was sitting on the other side of Gail and laughing loudly at 
something she'd said. She could let us all in on what's so funny, Joan 
thought sourly. 

As if reading her thoughts, Sam Bronson reached over and nudged her with his 
elbow. "Nothing stops Gail after she's had a few drinks," he chuckled in her 
ear. His insinuation was obvious. 

Joan leaned away from him, trying to escape from the rancid smell of his 
sour whiskey breath. "You seem to have your same one-track mind tonight, 
Sam," she said. 

"Honey, I've got a one-track mind all the time, just like our friend, Gail, 
over there," Sam replied slurringly. He grinned obscenely at Joan and 
continued eating, undaunted by her look of disgust. 

He took another gulp of his drink and slammed it back on the table, and 
belched. His watery blue eyes openly surveyed Joan's lush torso that pushed 
against the sheer material of her summer dress. His pupils were now dilated 
from the alcohol and his body exuded the animal smell of stale sweat. 

Joan squirmed away from him a few inches, and began nibbling at the food on 
her plate. She hadn't noticed before now that Sam was so drunk, and she 
wanted to finish her meal quickly to escape from him and his lewd, 
suggestive remarks. His implication about Gail might be true, she thought, 
but she wasn't worried about Bill...even though they had argued just before 
the party, she trusted him completely. 

"Finish up that steak, Honey," Sam slurred. "I'm going to mix you up one of 
my special .drinks." 

Joan could feel his fat thigh push up against hers as if by accident, and 
she cringed inwardly at the thought of his nearness. 

"No...I'm fine, Sam. No more drinks, please." 

"Hey, Bill," he called out across the table. "You little wife over here 
refuses to be sociable with me. Do you think she needs another drink?" 

Bill looked up from Gail, mildly surprised at Sam's intrusion. 

"Well..." He hesitated and looked over at Joan. 

"Of course she wants another drink, Sam," Gail laughed. "Why, the party's 
just started." 

Joan flushed a jealous twinge as Gail's hand reached over and patted Bill on 
the knee, but dismissed the feeling quickly. No point in getting jealous, 
she thought, besides Gail was a demonstrative female, always accentuating 
each point of her conversation with theatrical flair. Often, Bill had joked 
to her about Gail in private, but now she noticed that he seemed to be 
enjoying their conversation, laughing and talking with Gail in his old 
relaxed manner...a feeling she had missed sharing with him for months. 

Gail held up the two empty glasses in front of her and Bill. 

"Here, Sam, while you're up, bring Bill and me some fresh ones." 

Bill laughed and nodded at Sam, ignoring Joan's pointed stare. 

Sam winked at Joan over the rim of his glass, and let out a low, deep 
chuckle. On impulse, he leaned forward and breathed heavily in Joan's ear, 
"See there, Honey," he rasped, "everybody's gonna have a good time tonight. 
You just stick by ole 

Sam...uh...it doesn't seem like your hubby minds too much." 

Joan blushed and looked down at her hands, wringing them in frustration and 
anguish as Sam got up to refill the empty glasses. She could feel the holt 
salty tears begin to form at the rims of her eyes but turned her head, not 
wanting to give her husband and Gail the satisfaction of seeing her 
distress. 

It was obvious to her now that Bill was punishing her for forcing him to 
come to the party, but that was no reason for him to humiliate her like this 
in front of Gail and the others. 

When Sam returned with the drinks, she accepted it and affected a grateful 
smile, determined to show Bill that she was having a good time in spite of 
the way he and Gail were acting. 

She gulped the drink down quickly as Sam placed himself even closer to her 
this time...she could feel his side pressing heavily against hers and the 
heat of his massive thigh as he crushed it against her leg. He kept rocking 
against her as if he thought his touch would arouse her. 

Joan glanced at him out of the comer of her eye and saw the way his eyes 
continued to rove hungrily over her body, and she could see that he was 
mentally undressing her. She tried to ignore his lewd stares, but shuddered 
at the thought of his thick hairy hands touching her body. She was glad the 
second drink had dulled her senses slightly or she never would have been 
able to stand being so close to him. 

By this time, almost everyone had finished eating and had begun to drift 
inside and Joan watched angrily as Bill rose and obediently followed Gail in 
with the others. 

She looked back at Sam, smiling boldly at him though her thick fringe of 
lashes. Two could play the same game, she thought angrily, even if it would 
have to be with a boor like Sam. 

"Sam, would you mind taking me back to the living room, I feel like 
dancing." 

"Why, sure Honey...anything your li'l heart desires," he said, outwardly 
amused by her quick response to his advances. He'd have to fix her another 
drink fast, he thought, there was nothing he wanted more than the 
opportunity of plunging himself between those luscious thighs of hers, and 
the more she drank the better his chances were. 

Christ, he thought, if I could only be so lucky. 

Joan let Sam steer her back to the living room not bothering to look for 
Bill. Once inside, she'd be able to get away from Sam and circulate with the 
other guests until Bill was ready to leave. 

"Alright, baby, it's time to do your stuff." Sam took her drink away from 
her and set it on the bar, gyrating his flabby hips to the rhythm of the 
music. Joan stiffened her body, sickened by his closeness, and tried to keep 
him at a safe distance while they danced. She knew it was too late to back 
out now, but she desperately wished that Bill would come and rescue her. She 
always felt out of place without Bill beside her, and especially now that 
the party was getting louder and wilder by the minute. 

Finally she broke away from Sam's clutching grasp and made her way to the 
bar and finished her drink. He stumbled clumsily along behind her and caught 
her just as she set down the empty glass. 

"Sam, be a dear," she said, turning to him, "and make me another drink." 

She watched him as he pushed his way behind the bar. I've got to get away 
from him, she thought, and hurried over to the other side of the room by an 
open window and fresh air. But a crowd of people had the same idea and 
joined her and soon, even against the window, she felt like she was 
suffocating. 

She turned away and made her way back to the hub of the party, but by now 
the smoke and noise were overwhelming, and she could see Sam standing on the 
other side of the room with two drinks in is hands, searching for her. Joan 
knew then that she had to get away from the party and him, if only for a few 
moments, she couldn't stand the thought of another confrontation with Sam. 

She maneuvered her way through the long hallway to Gail's huge bedroom. It 
was dark inside, but Joan didn't bother to turn on the lights, the welcoming 
dark coolness was soothing and peaceful. Her head ached, and she thought 
about looking around for some aspirin, but decided instead to lie down for a 
brief rest. 

She guided her hands across the smooth satin bedspread and stretched out on 
the bed. The shrieks of laughter now semed far away, and the music, muted 
and distant, was punctuated now and then momentarily by the crash of a 
glass. All she needed was a few moments of rest before returning to the 
clamor of the party and Bill. 

Minutes after following Gail inside Bill found himself alone again as she 
circulated through the party, and he began to look around for Joan but 
couldn't see her anywhere. 

He stared absently at the ice cubes in his glass, took a final swallow, and 
pushed through the crowd for another drink, though he felt the effort was 
hardly worth it. 

The next moment, the strong aroma of sweet perfume filled his nostrils, and 
Gail Martin was at his side. 

She looked up at him, smiling boldly through her thick fringe of lashes. 

"Bill Carpenter, you look bored...how about a dance." Her eyes were 
laughing, her air of confidence was only daunted by the slight slur at the 
end of each breathless word she spoke. Bill could tell she was mildly drunk. 

"okay," Bill smiled. He was glad she had come to his rescue. 

He pulled her close to him, moving with her to the slow beat of the music 
and marveling at her round softness against the hardness of his own body. 
Other dancers around them pushed up against them forcing them firmly 
together. Gail began to undulate her hips softly against him as she locked 
herself to him. 

Her breath came in short, warm rasps close to his ear and she looked a 
little woozy, but the pressure of her body against him remained secure and 
unyielding. He flushed suddenly, feeling the growing hot pain between his 
loins; she was wonderful and exciting to hold and the sudden realization of 
her appeal disturbed him. 

The music suddenly shifted to a faster tempo, and Gail pulled away from him. 

"It's hot in here," she said, "let's go outside, I'll bring along some fresh 
drinks." 

Outside, Bill watched Gail as she approached him with the drinks in her 
hands. She leaned very close to him as she set them down on the table, 
revealing the lush cleavage of her full, fleshy bosom. She seemed to sense 
his eyes roaming over her in the dim light, and turned slightly to the side 
so that he got a quick glimpse of the profile of her firm, thrusting 
breasts. 

Bill wanted to reach out and touch them at that moment, but held back. Other 
than Joan's, Gail had the most beautiful pair' of breasts he had ever seen. 

"We'd better go back inside now," he said, "Joan will be looking for me." 

"Nonsense," Gail replied, "Joan's having a good time inside, besides I like 
a man who isn't afraid to live a little." She whispered the words softly, 
seductively, pushing her outline against his hot body. 

"Take it easy, Gail," he whispered, his voice labored. He knew he sounded 
flustered and embarrassed, like a school boy on his first outing with a 
girl-that was the way Gail made him feel. "I don't really want to go back 
in..." he hesitated, "it's so damn hot in there." 

Gail nodded. Even at this time of the night, the summer heat hugged the 
suburban hills in a warm, smothering heat that promised no quick relief. 

"Why don't we do for a quick swim, then, "she suggested, nodding towards the 
pool. "I've got some extra suits in the pool house, you won't even have to 
go home to change." 

"Well, I don't know..." Bill didn't want to admit to Gail that he was 
getting worried about Joan. 

"Oh pooh, Bill Carpenter," Gail puckered her ripe full lips in a tiny pout, 
and stood up as if to leave him. "If you won't go in with me, I'll go by 
myself." She walked slowly towards to the pool-house, swaying her soft, 
curved hips seductively. 

Hell, why not? he thought. Joan was inside having a good time without him. 
Why shouldn't he go for a swim. The entire evening had been long and dreary 
for him, even this short encounter with Gail had been on the boring side, 
though he had to admit he felt a strong animal attraction for her. 

Maybe it was the vodka that now numbed his senses, or maybe it was because 
he was losing patience with Joan's constant nagging. Whatever, the reason, 
he decided to forget the others and join Gail in the cool wetness of the 
darkened pool. At that moment, he couldn't think of any other place he'd 
rather be. 

Moments later he had changed into a swimsuit and was outside by the edge of 
the pool, watching Gail's supple outline as she effortlessly glided through 
the dark, shimmering water. 

"Come on in, slowpoke," she teased. Then giggled out loud when she saw his 
bathing suit slip down on his hips. 

Bill blushed, pulling he over-sized suit back up to his waist. "It's a 
little large," he admitted, "but it was the closest fit I could find in 
there." 

She laughed again and splashed her hands across the water's surface, 
spraying his heated limbs with a cool spray. 

He dove in after her, the water was tepid, but soothing to his body after 
the summer heat. She kicked off in front of him, taking long leisurely 
strokes, just keeping a few feet in front of him as they circled around the 
pool. 

Her wet limbs moved speedily and gracefully; they glistened like silverfish 
in the night light above her. Her creamy bosom was just barely concealed by 
the brief bikini bra which plastered next to her soft, pliant skin now in a 
wet, almost transparent mold. 

Bill moaned under his breath. The desire to touch her was almost pure 
torture. 

Gail slowed her pace to a crawl, giving Bill a pure sexual thrill as he 
moved up to swim beside her, matching her movements, stroke for stroke. She 
smiled slowly over at him as the tiny ripples of water seeped between the 
crack in her breasts, making them jiggle and wobble from the pressure. 

She looks like a beautiful, naked sea goddess, Bill thought. He could see 
the hard outline of her peaked and pointed nipples through the almost 
transparent cloth of her bikini. 

Gail reached the corner of the pool first and grabbed on to the porcelain 
edge, heaving and panting and laughing at him at the same time. She braced 
her elbows on the pool's edge and kicked out at him as he approached her. He 
submerged himself deep beneath the surface and glided quickly up under her 
flailing limbs, grabbing tight onto her ankles, and pulling her under into 
his arms. 

He could feel the hardness of his body over her soft and pliable one, 
crushing his torso all over the lush contours of her unresisting breasts, 
straining against with all his power. God, I must be drunk, he thought, but 
he didn't care. Gail had teased him long enough and it was time to collect 
payment. Nothing mattered to him now except conquering this female animal 
and filling her luscious, teasing body with his hot sperm of desire. 

They both bobbed up from the deep coolness of the water, gasping for air and 
gratefully sucking it into their tortured lungs. Bill treaded water as he 
reached one and behind Gail's back and ran it down the smooth contours of 
her velvet skin. He stroked downwards to her buttocks, wet and rounded 
beneath the taut flimsy bikini. 

He moved his free hand up around her body and roughly caressed the curved 
fullness of her voluptuous breasts, feeling the hard erectness of her 
nipples. He moved his hand slowly over them, kneading them like a baker 
preparing soft bread for the oven. 

A husky whisper of pleasure blew from her parted lips, and with the agility 
of an aquatic dancer, she wrapped her long, tanned legs around his hips, 
reaching for his shoulders for balance. 

Suddenly and harshly he kissed her, biting at her wet, soft lips as her body 
molded to his. She tightened her thighs around him, dropping slightly lower 
until the swelling hardness in his crotch made contact with the answering 
heat of the V-shaped mound between her legs. 

"Oh, God, Bill," she gasped, let's go back to the pool house." 

* * * 

The pool was quiet and still again when Sam Bronson walked outside to the 
coolness of the patio, drunk and a little confused. He had searched 
everywhere in the house, and after realizing that Joan Carpenter was 
purposely avoiding him, had angrily come outside to cool off. He didn't like 
the idea of being dumped by a broad, not even one as gorgeous as Joan. He 
took his drink and blundered through the thick growth of hedge to the path 
that led out to the pool. He was a little dizzy from all the alcohol and 
decided to curl up for a while on one of the lounge chairs by the pool and 
finish his drink before going back home. 

As he passed by the pool house, he thought he heard a faint moan, coming 
from behind the slightly open door. 

Christ, he thought, I really must be stoned tonight. I'm beginning to hear 
things. I'd better clear my head before trying to drive back. 

He sprawled out on a deck lounge, letting his bulky form sag against it, a 
blissful smile covering his face as he felt the canvas give way under the 
pressure of his weight. He set his empty glass down on the cold cement, 
breathing in the fresh night air and contemplating his bad luck that 
evening. 

That little bitch, Joan, sure had a good fuck coming to her, he thought, the 
way she ditched him tonight. If he could find her now, he'd tell her what he 
thought of her teasing ways, but he had searched all over the house for her 
earlier, and finally gave up...convinced that she had gone home. 

He closed his puffy eyes and lay there listening to the night sounds around 
him. A few night birds chirped and fluttered around the trees at the back of 
the yard while to the right of him, the muffled buzz of the party continued, 
its momentum at a steady pitch. 

He cocked his head to the side as another strange noise filtered through to 
him. It was very close, and he opened his eyes, straining them through the 
darkness as if to hear it more distinctly. 

Sam listened intently, trying to pinpoint the destination of the soft, 
animal grunts. He held his breath as the gasping became more pronounced, 
lying motionless at first, then softly crept from the chair towards the 
direction of the pool house. 

As he drew nearer, the sounds became more intense in volume, unmistakable 
now was the soft moan and cursing of a male in torture, wet flesh slapping 
against wet flesh. His heart pounded in sheer excitement as he scurried up 
to the slightly open door and peered inside the pool house. 

On the rubber mat at the far corner of the room he could see two nude bodies 
fucking and pulling at each other as though they were engaged in a furious 
tug-of-war. A small night light burned dimly by them, and Sam could clearly 
see the couple as they continued their lovemaking unaware of his presence. 

Well, well, he mused to himself, Bill with Gail Martin. He knew that Gail 
was attracted to Bill from the way she hung on his every word during dinnei, 
but he was mildly surprised to see that she had seduced him so quickly. Gail 
was a sensuous female, he knew from his own experiences with her, ready to 
take a tumble whenever the mood struck her. 

As he watched them, Sam grinned lewdly to himself in the darkness. He was 
enjoying the ribald scene, like viewing a pornographic film, and he derived 
added enjoyment with the knowledge that Bill was with Gail instead of Joan. 
He wished that frigid wife of Carpenter's was here. It's too bad, he 
thought, perhaps being a spectator here would loosen her up a little and 
she'd get down off that goddam high horse of hers and let me teach her a 
thing or two! 

He stood there quietly in the night for a few more minutes watching the 
wild, erotic scene in the corner and then moved softly away from the door. 
He was beginning to feel a little like a peeping torn, and besides, he 
thought bitterly, it wasn't very much fun watching someone else. 

Sam Bronson walked softly back to the pool. 

He stood by the shimmering water trying to decide whether to go inside and 
get another drink when he saw someone coming toward him down the path. He 
couldn't tell who it was at first, and then he recognized her. He had to 
stifle a choked laugh...it was Bill Carpenter's frigid little wife, he 
thought triumphantly. He waited in the semi-darkness for her to recognize 
him... 

Joan Carpenter walked hesitantly down the cobbled path, trying not to trip 
in the darkness. She'd lain for almost half an hour in Gail's bedroom until 
her headache had subsided slightly and she'd felt reasonably sure that Sam 
Bronson had either left or found another target for his crude advances. 

When she'd gotten downstairs, Bronson had been nowhere in sight, but then, 
neither had Bill. She'd asked several people and finally one had said that 
he'd seen him heading for the pool. 

Now, Joan had begun to wonder if he hadn't been mistaken. It was so dark and 
quiet out here...then, she paused...there he was. She could see him sitting 
by the pool. 

"Bill?" she called softly as she came closer. "Is that you over there? 
Darling, I've been looking..." 

Her voice stopped abruptly as the man rose and she recognized the heavy form 
of Sam Bronson ambling towards her. 

"Hi, honey," he slurred. "Where you been hiding?" 

"Hello, Sam," she answered coldly. "Have you seen Bill? I-I'm ready to go 
home, and I can't find him anywhere." 

"Now, you don't want to go home yet, doll," he chuckled lewdly. He laced his 
hand on her bare shoulder, her skin was smooth and softly tanned. 

Joan cringed and stepped back away from, there was anger in her eyes, and a 
trace of fear. She turned from him without a word, shrugging his hand from 
her shoulder, and started back for the house. She knew she was afraid of Sam 
but didn't want him to know. He was like an animal, sensing her fear he 
would be capable of attacking like a nocturnal predator. 

Without warning, Sam grabbed at Joan's arm, but missed and caught his blunt 
fingers on the strap of her summer dress. The strap snapped at she pulled 
away from him and the dress fell forward over her left breast, revealing the 
lacy cup of her strapless brassiere. 

She gasped and lashed out at him, taking another step backwards-but he was 
closer to her now and he latched painfully onto both of her wrists, 
pinioning them tightly to the sides of her body. The inward pressure of his 
hands pushed her breasts forward to him, and as the cups of her bra buckled 
he could see the delightful sight of her rose-colored nipples. Their erotic 
nakedness drove him further, and his mouth hung open slackly and the saliva 
flowed freely around his tongue. 

She tried to break away from him, tried to catch her breath and cry out, but 
he kept tearing at her dress until it pulled completely away from her chest 
and her bra slid lower, completely exposing her heaving breasts. 

"Sam!...let me go..." she finally screamed. "LET ME GO!" 

He only laughed huskily, his hot, raw breath searing her face, and then he 
grabbed with one hand for the straining fullness of her flexing buttocks. 

When he pulled his hand downward she was able to break one arm free and lash 
out at him with all her might. Her tightly clenched fist caught him just 
below the ear, stunning him momentarily and making him lose his grip on her. 

"You fucking bitch!" he screamed holding his head. He grabbed frantically 
for her but she'd ducked away and, almost stumbling as she tried to pull up 
her dress, began to run towards the path away from the pool. 

"Hey! Wait a minute, Baby! I've got a little surprise for you!" 

Something in his voice made her hesitate, and she stopped far enough away 
from him to be safe if he tried to catch her, but close enough to hear his 
added words. 

"Joan, baby, if you think I'm bad, why don't you take a look in the pool 
house and see how wonderful your precious husband is!" Sam Bronson turned 
angrily away and walked around the pool to the driveway where his car was 
parked. 

Joan stood motionless in the darkness, the meaning of his parting remark 
echoing in her ears. Then, slowly she turned and walked hesitantly toward 
the pool house. It seemed to beckon to her maliciously, a great dark 
menacing shadow looming ahead of her.. . 

* * * 

"...back to the pool house," Gail's suggestion thundered in Bill's ears as 
he climbed out of the pool and turned to give her a hand. He had to stifle 
an urge to run as he hurried her to the open and waiting door. 

Moments later, she was in his arms again, in the darkness of the pool house. 
A deep groan erupted from somewhere within him as he pulled her roughly down 
onto the rubber mat, trying to kiss her and silently curse her for what she 
was making him do. 

Gail was writhing beneath him, her body glistening like polished bronze, her 
mouth opened in an oval shape. Her thighs spread wide apart, and to each 
side of Bill's naked torso, as he removed the top of her bikini and threw it 
off to the side. 

He leaned forward over her prostrate body, fastening his teeth and gently 
nibbling on the nipples of her heaving breasts. She cried out in the ecstasy 
of pain-filled pleasure, then lay back her body wide open for his pleasures. 
He let his coarse hands play over the softness of her thighs and hip, while 
he roughly jerked off the bottom of her wet swim suit...his lips continued 
to wetly caress the white throbbing mounds, each nipple peaked and pointed. 

Bill sucked impatiently at each rising bud, bringing them to a rigid 
hardness, the soft flesh beneath them paled in contrast and involuntarily 
twitched in raw-nerved lust. He wanted to be in complete control of the 
writhing temptress beneath him-she had lead him this far, but from now on he 
would be the master...she would serve only as an object to satiate the 
torment that he lead him to his first act of adultery. 

He was vaguely aware in the back of his thoughts, that both he and Gail were 
in a precarious situation, at any moment they could be discovered by one of 
the guests. What if Joan should wander by and see them like this, naked and 
going at each other like two wild animals in heat. 

Strangely, the thought of his wife watching him making love to Gail, only 
served to incite his lust to newer heights. He convulsively reached forward, 
clasping his hands tightly around Gail's narrow waist, kneading at her 
belly, the flaccid surface sucking in the moment he pressed down on it. 

The electrical contact of his touch on her brought a deep, low sigh from her 
parted lips. She raised her soft, glossy thighs, entwining her long legs 
firmly around his waist, still moaning and clinging to him passionately, 
exploring his body with her fingers as he explored hers. 

Her hands fumbled in the darkness until they found the rigid hardness of his 
hardening penis spearing out from between his loins. She played and milked 
at it until the pressure in his balls became almost unbearable. But he 
didn't want it to happen so fast, he wanted to remain in control. 

Bill moved his hands down over her thighs then pushed her hands back away 
from him, letting them fall back limply on the mattress. He could feel her, 
wet and open, beneath the soft sparse pubic hair that covered the slim folds 
of moist, giving flesh, but he wasn't ready to enter her yet. 

"Nooooo...Bill...Please put it in," she moaned, her face now contorted as if 
in the throes of an unbearable pain. 

"Take it easy baby," he choked, "I'm going to suck you between the legs." 

"Oh darling, darling," she kept murmuring as he knelt forward and cupped 
each of her quivering buttocks in the palms of his hands. They were firm but 
like cascading velvet, through his wide-spread anger. 

He buried his head deep between her open thighs, searching and probing with 
his tongue until he had found the moist opening beneath the plush mat of 
tantalizing pubic hair. 

He could hear Gail's agonizing moans beneath him as he flicked his tongue 
against the softness of her sensitive clitoris, already her cuntal fluids 
ran freely, lubricating the pink, hot edge of her vaginal lips. She began to 
squirm and buck her hips against his face, now completely out of control, 
but he continued the lewd sucking, inwardly satisfied with his own power 
over her. 

Jesus, he thought, she's really going out of her mind. 

He wondered now how long he could hold his own self control, seeing her 
squirming like that, feeling her sex moistness, and smelling the rich female 
aroma of her secreting juices. He could feel the tautness of his flesh 
stretched over his stiffened cock and his inflated balls swung wildly 
between his legs. 

Gail dug her sharp claws into his thick head of hair. "Turn upside down, 
darling," she whispered breathlessly, "I want to suck you too." 

Obediently, Bill rolled over on his side and twisted around, as Gail 
snuggled close to his body, grabbing his long, thick shaft between her 
sinewy, tapered fingers. At her touch, he could feel a warm gush of erotic 
sensations engulf his whole being, making his penis swell to an even greater 
size. 

She moved her lips forward and took the swollen head in her mouth, enclosing 
it in the warmth of her saliva, and licking at the hotness of it with her 
wet, slippery tongue. But she could not quench the fire now building up in 
the tip of his cock...the crudeness of the whole act enthralled him, he 
enjoyed watching his penis plunge in and out of her beautiful, aristocratic 
face, even though he realized that he was quickly losing control...if she 
didn't stop that wild sucking, his balls would explode their sperm deep into 
that tender, milking mouth of hers. 

He stroked his fingers across the deep valley of her trim waist and back up 
to the meaty white flesh of her thighs, muttering obscenities and nuzzling 
her cunt with his lips. She lifted her leg, never stopping the maddening 
sucking, and clamped his face between the soft inner hollows of her thighs. 

"Suck me harder," she coughed down at him, her body a mass of quivering 
nerves. 

No one could pull them apart now, Bill thought, burying his whole face into 
the hot passage of her vaginal opening, nothing could stop them from 
completing this act of pure animal lust...he knew then that they had both 
lost all control of whatever inhibitions they might have possessed. 

Gail slowly leaned away from Bill, her tongue and lips gradually releasing 
the throbbing organ that now resembled a fleshy poled extension of her 
face...nibbling and kissing the knob of it with sensuous pleasure. 

"Ohhhhhh, that's wonderful darling," she murmured, now ready for his 
entrance into the burning depths of her thirsting body. 

She rolled over on her back, still in a trance, her long auburn hair tangled 
and wet. She spread her legs wide apart giving him full access to her 
heaving, aching cunt, and gasped as the brim of his nose pushed down hard on 
the bud of her clitoris. 

"My God," she gasped in a low, passion driven voice, "put it in me. I can't 
stand it any longer!" 

Still kissing her vagina, Bill slowly moved his lips over the matted tangle 
of pubic hair to the soft base of her belly. When he kissed and bit her 
there, he could feel the inner flesh of her thighs begin to jerk against him 
in rapid spasms. Her torment brought a new pungent sharpness to her own 
arousal, and for a moment he wanted to pull away from her again and make her 
beg for it. 

But his own hips began to writhe involuntarily against the soft hairy center 
of her crotch, and the wave of masochism passed quickly. The painful, 
startling pressure between his loins was now unbearable-he could feel his 
guts, knotted and tense, his balls were swollen and tingling. 

She pulled his hands over each of her full, quivering breasts, and grabbed 
firmly to his waist, smacking his crotch hard against hers. She pressed the 
full of her body to him, as he leaned down and kissed her white throat, then 
her moist, full mouth. He squeezed gently at her tits, then harder and 
harder as the kiss mounted its intensity. She cried out, but he would not 
release his pressure even when she dug her sharp nails into the small of his 
back, breaking the skin there. The pain was sweet; he was ready to take her. 

He feasted his eyes on her rounded hips as he leaned back to make his 
entrance, she was ready and eager. Her eyes gleamed up at him through the 
dim light, hot like a cat's, penetrating his thick lust. She was breathing 
heavily. In the haze of his passion, he pictured her then as a fleshy 
sacrifice on the flat stone slab of a shrine, quaking at the thought of her 
inevitable destiny. 

Then, with a quick gasp, he drove his hardened penis deep into the warm, 
tight confines of her cunt, ramming forward into her full force without 
pause or hesitation. Her tunnel was warm and moist, and it clung snugly 
around his plunging rod like it was a part of himself, a graceful sucking 
sheath of warm quivering flesh. 

Her legs danced gracefully against his sides, their soft, quivering flesh 
caressing his own, then locked firmly around his waist, giving him even 
deeper access to her hoc, wet cunt. The whole act that he was doing now was 
so different than when he was with Joan. With his wife, he had always held 
himself back, always fearing that he might offend her in some way. But with 
Gail, he felt free...she seemed to invite him in her silent way to use her 
in any way that would please him. 

"Please...please..." she gurgled, urging him on, begging him and pumping her 
hips up stiff at him in wild abandonment. 

His hips drove on, steady and sure, smacking into her hard, not caring about 
the pain he brought her. The moment was bitter sweet, with each of them 
driving their muscles onto the final relief. 

She uttered a low animal moan, flexing her hips wildly to get a better grip 
on him. Her vagina was hot, and wide open like a giant hole in the crater of 
her open loins...she pushed in on her inner muscles, as if afraid she might 
lose the firm grip she had on his swollen shaft...she was almost there and 
her body bucked and twisted under him as though possessed by wild, driving 
demons. 

He knew that she was about to come, the way the deep persistent moans 
erupted from her throat, the way she desperately clung to him as if he were 
about to die. One last time, he withdrew his cock from her opening, staring 
at the soft folds of pink flesh as they clung to his driving cock like a 
Venus fly trap. 

Then he pushed into her again, slowly this time, feeling the inner folds of 
her channel enclose the tip of his penis once more, then give way to the 
hard pressure of his burrowing rod. She arched her smooth torso, pushing her 
huge tits against the firmness of his chest, and he began to pump into her 
at a faster pace. 

The flooding heat started at the bottom of his loins, pushing up to his 
testicles as the great wave of passion drowned out the rest of the world. 
Now it was just him and Gail, and he was riding her out to the end. He could 
feel his sperm bloated balls smacking against her puckered anus, ready to 
burst at any moment when a sudden cool breeze hit his naked body. 

The door to the pool house was wide open, and Joan was standing there, 
horror and disbelief on her face, and her body was trembling. She was 
staring at the two of them as if she were about to say something, but she 
didn't utter a word, just stood there as if riveted to the floor. 

Bill stared up at his wife in shock, just as his balls exploded, shooting 
his hot sperm deep into Gail's writhing cunt. He was without power now to 
smother the deep groans of relief or stop the spastic movement of his hips 
and he continued to pump into Gail until the last drop of burning liquid 
burst free of his tortured balls. 

His whole body quivered in trembling spasms, and he fell weakly onto Gail's 
arching body, as she too buckled beneath him in great, arcing heaves as she 
felt the flowing lava of his sperm merge with the urgency of her climax... 

Bill buried his head against Gail's velvet shoulder as her body shook 
convulsively beneath his. Her movements jerked into stillness, but he still 
lay with his head hidden in her softness-there were no words, nothing that 
he could say... 

Seconds later, the pool house door slammed with a frightening finality and 
everything was-quiet, except for the pounding that thundered in his 
ears...and the husky purring of Gail's breath. 

 CHAPTER 2 

Joan Carpenter reached sleepily over to the travel alarm by her bed on the 
night stand, shutting off the persistent buzzing, with a quick flick of her 
forefinger. The ancient four-poster creaked loudly as she slumped back on 
the crumpled pillows again, still weary from a sleepless night of fighting 
her own anxieties, tormented thoughts of Bill and her ill-fated marriage 
dominating all else in her mind. 

The strain of her present dilemma played cruelly on her mind, increased, 
even more by the dawn-lit dimness of the shabby motel room. With a sigh, she 
wriggled her long limbs over to the side of the bed and threw back the 
blanket, making no attempt to cover her graceful nudity. She stood up 
straight, arching her long smooth torso, and stretched long and hard against 
her cramped and aching muscles. 

She walked over to the full length dressing mirror and grimly surveyed her 
reflection. Her delicate cameo complexion now void of makeup was as smooth 
as a baby's, except for the few finely etched lines of fatigue around her 
eyes and mouth. Small half-moon shadows appeared below her wide set blue 
eyes as she stepped closer to the mirror to take a more critical 
self-appraisal. 

The deep shadows beneath her eyes did not surprise her. All night long she 
had drifted off to sleep, only to waken and find herself reaching over for 
Bill...and then in her half-conscious state, she would remember where she 
was and the still stark memory of what she had witnessed in the pool house 
that night at the party. Here in the solitude of the motel room, she had 
cried until her whole body ached and trembled with exhaustion...until she 
had no more strength or the will to remember. And then sleep would come 
again, only to be broken with another fitful interval of bitter memories. 
She kept seeing the horrible complacency of the lawyer's face as he drew up 
the divorce papers and told her they would be ready in a couple of days-and 
the cold finality of the telegram she had sent to Bill.... 

Dawn had brought some relief, but now she was faced with the problem of 
supporting herself during her stay in Reno, and she was not sure that her 
experience as a copywriter would be of any use in the gambling town; she 
would probably have to rely on what secretarial skills she picked up in 
college. She emptied her purse on the dresser recounting the bills and few 
bits of change that she had saved from her housekeeping expenses, 
calculating that she had just enough to see her through for a few days. 

The morning coldness cleared her head and she hurried into the bathroom to 
get ready for her day of job hunting. She stepped inside the yellowed 
porcelain tub, closing the shower door behind her, and let the full burst of 
spray bounce against her nude body. The stimulation of the tepid water 
gradually warmed up her limbs, and she slowly turned around beneath it's 
hard pressure as if trying to wash away the memory of the nightmare she had 
experienced the night before. 

Joan had heard stories of other unfaithful husbands, but that was always a 
distant thing, and except for their strained relationship these last few 
months she believed their marriage was near perfect...there was no doubt in 
her mind of Bill's love. But now she realized that her blind trust had made 
her the fool in the triangle, and wondered how long Bill and Gail had been 
playing behind her back. 

She knew that last night her emotions had overcome her logic, but she was 
glad she came to Reno. After sending Bill the telegram, she knew it was too 
late to turn back, besides her pride wouldn't let her. What use would it be 
to try and live in the same house with Bill after seeing him naked and 
wrapped in that obscene embrace with Gail Martin, she thought bitterly. 

The mental image of the two of them together brought fresh tears to her 
eyes, but she brushed them away with determination, and hurriedly dried off, 
knowing she would feel better when she was out of the gloomy room. The rough 
terry towel felt good against the dampness of her soft flesh, and she could 
slowly feel her composure returning now that the initial shock had worn off. 

Before leaving, she surveyed herself once more in front of the full-length 
mirror, feeling detached as if she were viewing a stranger. Her conservative 
cut blue woolen suit draped softly around her lush contour, letting off the 
graceful long lines of her torso. She smoothed down a few loose strands of 
blonde hair, and now satisfied with her image, gratefully stepped out into 
the fresh morning air. 

Later that same day, Joan climbed up the dusty, wooden stairs of an office 
building on the outskirts of Reno. She paused briefly to check the address 
hastily scrawled from the Want Ad section of the local paper, then continued 
to the top of the stairs. A glass-paneled door just to her right labeled in 
black blocked letters read. 

EMMETT CASTLE INVESTIGATIONS When she entered, a loud buzzer sounded until 
the door closed behind her. The air-conditioned room was furnished with a 
practical brown leather couch, straddled on each side with two tall pole 
lamps. 

One side of the wall was decorated with several framed seascape prints, and 
the other loaded with racks of magazines. 

A middle-aged woman with sharp features poked her head around the corner of 
an inner office. 

"Mrs. Carpenter?" She briefly inspected Joan with a half-curious gaze. 

"Yes," Joan paused, a little unsure of herself, her optimism gone. "I-I 
called from downtown about the Girl Friday position..." 

"Oh yes," the aged secretary brusquely cut her off. "Mr. Castle will see you 
in a few minutes, he's on the phone now." With this proclamation stated, she 
popped back into the inner office, leaving Joan alone. 

She sat back against the smooth upholstery and tried to calm herself for the 
interview with Emmett Castle. She picked out a magazine from the rack, 
unconsciously crossing and re-crossing her long legs as he forced her eyes 
over the slick print. Her woolen suit clung to her full thighs, slightly 
dampened from small trickles of perspiration and creeping higher as she 
squirmed on the seat. 

But her thoughts were too distracting for any serious concentration, and 
after scanning over several more pages, she gave up and put the magazine 
back in the rack. Downtown Reno had been hot and dirty, nothing like the 
green-shrubbed suburban living that she was used to. Most of the action 
seemed to be centered around the gambling casinos. 

When she passed by their large plate glass windows, she could see it all. 
Tourists, pensioners, cowboys, bartenders and brassy show girls...all busy 
at their tasks around the machines and tables. 

A waitress in a coffee shop told her she could easily get a job as a 
cocktail waitress or even a dealer, but Joan inwardly shuddered at the 
thought of working in the smoke-filled gambling dens. 

"Mr. Castle will see you now," the secretary announced, breaking Joan's 
reverie. 

She walked swiftly to the door of Emmett Castle's inner office, forcing a 
smile to her lips as she entered. 

"Come on in," Emmett smiled back, his Nevadan-tanned skin dark brown, like 
tough leather. He leaned his muscular body towards her just long enough to 
push a chair up by his desk, and motioned her to sit down. Emmett was a 
ruggedly handsome man, she guessed to be in his late thirties. He had that 
well-nourished look, though slender. She liked the way his jaw squared off 
and ran up to a pleasant amount of small furrows on his forehead. 

"Let's see," he muttered, rummaging through the paper scattered over his 
desk, finally pulling out a note pad. "Mrs. Joan Carpenter," he read, 
"office and advertising experience, that right?" 

Joan nodded. 

"I see you have a San Francisco address," he continued. "New in Reno...huh?" 
He looked boldly over at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. His eyes made a 
quick, professional appraisal of her face and figure, then he leaned back in 
his swivel chair waiting for her answer. It was plain to see that he liked 
what he saw. 

Joan was annoyed and angered by his bold study of her. She felt naked. 

"I'm in Reno for a divorce, Mr. Castle," she answered. "And I understood 
that this was to be a temporary job." 

"It's really more of an assignment than a job," he answered slowly "and the 
pay is high, more than enough to see you through a divorce." 

Joan relaxed a bit. The man was easy going and not taken back by her flash 
of anger. Her voice softened, "What type of assignment?" 

Emmett lit a cigarette and took a long slow drag before he spoke. 

"I handle investigations, have for years. Most of them are routine in 
nature...personnel checks, divorce cases...but some are a lot more involved 
and complicated. And usually, when I'm faced with such a case, I enlist help 
from the outside. I have a client who's anxious to retrieve some negatives 
and photos taken of him in a compromising situation, a plain case of 
blackmail." 

"Why doesn't he go to the police?" she asked. 

"For the obvious reasons," he answered. "Respectable businessman...family, 
and now he's contemplating politics." 

"Your client's afraid the photos would lose an election for him?" Joan 
asked, apprehensive but a little excited at the prospect of the job. 

"No, not the election. The man with the photos would probably back my client 
in any political contest...it's after he's in office that he'd get the 
pressure put on him for small favors.-My client knows that unless he can get 
back those photos, he might as well forget the whole campaign." Emmett 
chuckled. "You can see that he's got a big problem. The fee is high, and I'm 
willing to share a good deal of it with you, if you're still interested." 

Joan swallowed hard, the thought of acting female sleuth was an attractive 
idea. She wanted something to involve her thoughts completely to keep her 
mind off of Bill...but this whole scheme sounded wild, like something out of 
a dime store detective novel. 

Emmett went to a walnut cabinet on the other side of the room and took out a 
bottle of gin, some tonic and a couple of glasses. 

"Let's have a drink while you're thinking about it." He held up the bottle 
of gin "This okay?" 

Joan nodded and he quickly poured two glasses. The clear liquor burned her 
tongue and throat, but the drink was surprisingly refreshing. 

"What would I have to do," she asked when her glass was near empty. 

"Very little, really," he answered. "There's a dude ranch out of town, run 
by a woman called Celia Johnson. She's been a long time friend of this 
man...er Nick Casetti. Nick has interests in several gambling casinos around 
here, but mostly, I guess you might call him a playboy.-likes to give lots 
of big parties, and Celia's always invited. Nick-likes to flirt around a 
little with the divorcees that stay at her ranch. All you do is go out 
there, make friends with Celia, then get in touch with me as soon as you're 
invited over to Nick's." 

"It all sounds so dishonest...so sneaky," Joan answered hesitantly, not 
certain she liked being used as flesh-bait for a gambler this way. 

"You're not dealing with honest people," Emmett replied abruptly. "Consider 
what Nick is doing to my client. All you have to do is keep your eyes open 
when you get to Nick's. Stay away from the booze and try to get the layout 
ot his place...look for hidden wall safes, or the most obvious place that he 
would keep the photos...a den or study." 

He pulled out his wallet and counted out several large bills. "This will 
cover your expenses at the ranch, my secretary will give you directions and 
a brochure on the place. If Celia asks you how you found the ranch, tell her 
you picked up the brochure at a travel agency." 

Emmett shut his eyes momentarily after she had gone, mentally picturing 
Joan's voluptuous breasts and firm buttocks, and how it would feel to be in 
bed with her, pumping his hardened cock between those long, tanned legs. He 
sighed, almost in regret, and lit another cigarette. 

He hadn't really been honest with the girl, but if he told her all he knew 
about Nick Casetti, she would have blown out of the office in two seconds. 

At the age of forty, Nick had committed every heinous crime in the 
gangster's handbook...dope pushing, robbery, rape, bookmaking and extortion. 
A few unsolved murders had been traced to him, but he was never convicted. 

Emmett poured himself another drink and glanced through Nick Casetti's file. 
He had started out in the slums of New York City, building up his experience 
in burglary, assault, and extortion. When he discovered Reno, about fifteen 
years ago, he put his particular talents to work, and quickly achieved 
success, progressing from bookie to gambling entrepreneur. 

Emmett's client had been at a local convention, celebrating and gambling at 
a casino that Nick managed. He was surprised that the house was so generous. 
Nick had him moved with compliments of the house into a plush suite with 
king-size bed and plush furniture. Evidently, the room was also equipped 
with a two-way mirror and half-dozen microphones to record his every word. 

A king-size redhead was sent up to his room, a particularly striking dancer 
that he had admired earlier at a lounge show. At the time he didn't know it, 
but Nick was setting him up for one of his favorite hobbies...pornographic 
photos that could lead to particular embarrassment to the men involved, who 
were usually, like Emmett's client, important business and civic leaders. 

GO 

Emmett was certain that the negatives were hidden somewhere at Nick's 
private lodge, but the place was actually guarded like a mint by his 
henchmen. No one came in or out without Nick's consent. He had many enemies 
and he knew it. Nick had built his own prison, making it bearable by turning 
it into a pleasure palace. 

Joan Carpenter was the perfect answer for what Emmett had been looking for, 
an attractive, long-legged blonde, Nick's favorite. A little on the naive 
side, but intelligent enough not to give herself away...and she had a 
legitimate front. What other reason would she need at the ranch, other than 
she was a disillusioned housewife, waiting out a divorce. 

Emmett looked up from the folio, slightly startled as his office door burst 
open, and Janie Summers, one of his chorus-girl bed chums stomped into the 
room. A baby-like pout formed on her generous full lips, her long red hair 
still tangled from driving in her open convertible. She slammed the door 
shut behind her and strutted over to his desk. 

"Why don't you get rid of that old bag out there," she demanded, pointing in 
the general direction of Miss Holt's desk. "Every time I come over here, all 
I get from her is dirty looks." 

Emmett grinned. "That's because you never have an appointment, love." He 
made her a drink, adding more gin to his own glass. "Besides," he continued, 
"I trust her, she's faithful as an old hound dog." 

There was a lot of truth in what he said, Emmett thought wryly, she was one 
of the few people that he really trusted. Maybe some day he'd give her a 
good screw just to show her how grateful he was. 

"Well," Janie giggled, "your hound dog has left for the day, I passed her 
coming up the stairs." She set down her drink and placed her cushiony 
buttocks on his lap, playfully working her fingers at the knot in his tie. 

"What's wrong, darling," she murmured, her anger now abated. "Don't you 
trust me?" She licked the rim of his ear. 

"Of course, I do," he lied, leaning over and kissing her on the lips. He 
could feel the oven between her legs generating warm heat to his own body. 

"Emmett, honey...I do love you," she whispered seductively in his ear. 

"I love you, baby," he murmured back, wondering what she would say if he 
told her he knew that she was a high priced prostitute on the side of her 
dancing career. 

Janie's breasts pushed hard against her thin cotton blouse, the buttons 
almost bursting from the pressure. He ran his blunt fingers down the front 
seam and they easily popped out of their allotted holes, freeing the large 
white orbs from their entrapment. 

She leaned forward, her two huge breasts a fleshy pillow by his face. 

"Why can't you dress properly like other civilized women," he joked. Janie 
rarely wore a brassiere, she didn't really need one. Her firm muscular 
breasts jutted away from her torso, smooth and pointed without the aid of 
elastic support. 

"Don't you like me a little wild, sugar?" She planted her moist lips at the 
base of his neck, nuzzling and kissing him there. Her long tapered fingers 
worked rapidly at the buttons on his shirt, his tie was already on the 
floor. 

Then she pushed away from him for a moment and reached for her drink. 

"Cheers," she laughed, tilting back the glass and draining it empty. Her 
eyes were bright and slightly dilated from her mounting passion. 

Despite her vices, Emmett had a soft spot for Janie. Her lust was animal and 
she never seemed to tire of his endless sex play. The thought of her selling 
that gorgeous body for money angered him, and he wondered vaguely then if 
she had other men lined up for that evening after her show. 

He reached over, roughly jerking off her blouse and his anger mounted when 
she giggled again at him. 

"Grrrrr tiger," she chided, standing up in front of him, swaying her full 
hips from side to side with a taunting smile on her red lips. All she had on 
now was a blue mini skirt and tan-colored high heels. The short skirt 
accentuated the graceful lines of her long copper-tone legs, as firm and 
shapely as any in the chorus line. 

Emmett could feel the bulge growing in his e:? pants, its hot stiffness 
pushing against the tightness of his trousers. He felt a little foolish 
disrobing in front of Janie, but his whole body was on fire, he couldn't 
wait till later...Janie had never aroused him so quickly before. Maybe, he 
thought, it was because of his earlier notions about Joan Carpenter. 

Seconds later, he stood beside Janie naked, his long, blunt rod erected away 
from his body at a forty-five degree angle. Janie stared at it, openly 
intrigued by the size of his powerful organ. He pushed it up hard against 
her crotch as he pulled the full length of her body to him, unzipping the 
mini skirt with his free hand. 

The skirt slipped to the floor, followed by her sheer panty hose and high 
heels. Now they were both naked and hot, each of them lusting for the 
other's body, their passions unchained from any inhibitions they might have 
possessed. 

He pressed her closer to him, cupping her tight buttocks in the palms of his 
hand, feeling his swollen prick bury itself against the soft heat of her 
thighs. His heart began to pound rapidly and his rod felt like it was being 
pierced by a thousand tiny hot needles. 

As if sensing his torture, Janie ran her cool fingers down his hips, resting 
them on the base of his erected penis. She began to softly stroke at the 
thick red rod, her own breath coming in short gasps now at the thought his 
blunt cudgel pushing into her hot wet vagina. She could tell Emmett was 
about to take her, his face was flushed with passion, his eyes half closed 
as he watched her delicate hands stroke with growing intensity at his 
straining cock. 

"Oh...Oh," he gasped, when she fingered tenderly the loose sacks of flesh 
between his legs. His balls felt like two water balloons, straining from 
their fullness, about ready to erupt like a volcano. 

At that moment, he wanted to throw her on the floor and shove his throbbing 
cock into her hair-covered pussy with all the power in him, until she had no 
strength left for her paying customers. But her expert manipulations on his 
burning genitals made him powerless. He felt like a puppet under full 
control of the master's strings and for a timeless moment he stood there, 
entrapped in the euphoria of pleasurable sensations. 

His limbs and body felt loose, almost liquid now as the blood boiled and 
coursed through his veins in a great heat. The taut tanned muscles quivered 
spastically at his upper thighs and buttocks. When he looked into Janie's 
eyes, they were wide and expectant, silently pleading for her own 
satisfaction. 

The fleshy stem of his penis was hard as a rock, the head large and red, 
filled with blood. With great effort, he uncurled her fingers from around 
his shaft, and pressed the full length of her torso against his own. Her 
quivering breasts crushed against his massive chest and they swayed back and 
forth, their bodies totally immersed in the moment's passion. 

Kissing her wildly, Emmett drew her down slowly on the deep-piled rug, 
pressing his knees between her soft thighs until they were wide and open. 
Her whole body was limp and trembling and the pink moistness of her vaginal 
lips were plainly visible through her soft downy pubic hair. 

Emmett gritted his teeth in supreme concentration as he straddled her lust 
incited body, holding her waist in his firm grip. Janie lifted her leg 
eagerly, her rounded buttocks now tense and waiting. 

He pushed the reddened tip of his massive swollen cock against her pulsating 
hair lined cunt, feeling her warm, secreting juices flow hotly around the 
rubbery head. He gritted his teeth and probed the quivering entranceway for 
a moment, then with all his strength, drove his hips forward, sinking the 
throbbing hot cock deep into her eager wet cunt. 

"Aaarrgghhh," he gasped as he felt his foreskin stretch back along his 
swollen prick. Even though she was a high priced whore, she was always tight 
for the first few moments, making him suffer in pain as his huge throbbing 
cock wormed its way deep into her smooth wet cunt until suddenly the 
twitching head pushed hard up against her cervix. 

He drove into her with long, powerful strokes, as Janie gurgled and coughed 
beneath him, urging him on to completion. He could feel her pelvis firm and 
flush against his own, grinding and bucking in a wild spontaneous rhythm of 
uninhibited lust. He could feel her sweating hands clutching at his body 
frantically, begging and guiding his twisting hips, while at the same time 
her undulating buttocks ground back in such frenzy that he knew she was 
almost ready to cum. 

He could see that she was coming closer and closer to orgasm and her whole 
body was consumed and alive, clinging to the delicious sensations that 
engulfed her fiery pussy. Emmett cupped her smooth round buttocks with his 
hands, steadily increasing the power of his thrusts to a faster and more 
brutal tempo. He could feel the saliva in his mouth thickening until he had 
to swallow hard to keep from choking. 

Janie's white, flaccid breasts quivered and trembled beneath him, their 
suction emitting a soft sucking noise, chiming rhythmically into the wet 
slapping sound of his belly smacking against hers. She could feel the 
muscles of her vaginal walls flowering painfully under the pressure of 
Emmett's driving cock. But her quivering hot cunt took the brutal punishment 
and begged for more and more, as her own white hot juices flowed around it, 
lubricating its emersion so that it flowed into her smoothly, mechanically, 
like a well-oiled machine. 

Her hands reached desperately up and locked themselves around the back of 
his neck pulling his face to hers. With a soft, muffled moan, she kissed him 
on the mouth, sucking wildly at his tongue. Their saliva mixed together as 
she continued to suck and bite at his mouth, swallowing all the moisture she 
could pull from it. 

She was ready! 

Her legs kicked out, quivering uselessly in the air on either side of him, 
as he continued to buck down into her without ceasing. The hot walls of her 
clasping cunt tightened hungrily around his thick shaft as she pounded back 
at him now in the first throes of orgasm. Warm rivulets of cuntal fluid 
seeped out of her vaginal lips and around the base of Emmett's cock, mixing 
with the sweat in the tangled mat of their tightly entwined pubic hairs. 

Emmett could feel the rising tide beginning deep in his balls ready to 
explode any second. Hot ripples of fire danced through his senses, surging 
into a giant tide that engulfed his burning cock. Suddenly it burst, 
exploding thin jet streams of his sperm deep inside her womb. He gasped as 
the hot fluid shot from his cock into her twitching cunt. The room seemed to 
be spinning around them...he could hear her ecstatic whimpering and feel the 
pressure of her fingers dig deeply into his shoulders as he thrust savagely, 
shooting the last of his white, spurting cum deep into her belly. 

 CHAPTER 3 

The sunset reflected myriads of reds and saffron yellows against the parched 
Nevada Hills, still thirsty from the scorching heat of day. Joan squinted 
from the harsh glare and adjusted the visor with her free hand, as her gray 
sedan sped over the winding highway just a few miles south of Celia 
Johnson's ranch. 

The hot desert air whipped through the open car windows with the intensity 
of a blast furnace, tangling her blonde hair and stinging at her unprotected 
eyes. The smothering heat was almost unbearable, even at this time of day. 
She pressed her foot firmly down on the accelerator, anxious now to reach 
her destination. 

Her earlier fears of working for Emmett Castle seemed exaggerated now, 
although she felt a little guilty about deceiving Celia. When she phoned 
from the motel for reservations, Celia had been cordial and friendly, and 
her warm manner dispelled some of Joan's anxiety about staying at her ranch. 
But, she thought, the fact remained that Celia was a close friend of Nick 
Casetti's, and she'd have to be on guard with her...if she was to be of any 
help in getting back the photos. 

She slowed the car as she approached the wooden sign post at the entrance of 
the ranch, and turned off on a narrow dirt road. In the far distance, about 
a mile, she could see the dim outline of the ranch house. It was a large and 
sprawling Spanish style hacienda. A few tall trees arched high to the side 
of it, their ragged silhouettes black against the skyline. She passed a 
large corral filled with horses bedded down for the night, and winced at the 
sharp smell of fresh dung. 

When she reached the main entrance to the ranch house, the dirt road turned 
to gravel, winding around a circular drive to a small parking area. There 
were a few men and women in a shaded patio with drinks in their hands, 
watching her curiously as she stepped out of the car. One of the women, dark 
and beautiful, left the group and walked towards her. Joan knew before she 
introduced herself that the woman must be Celia Johnson. 

"Hi there," she greeted, "you must be Joan Carpenter." She extended her hand 
with a firm grip. 

"Yes, I called earlier from Reno." 

"It's pretty hot out there today," Celia nodded towards the highway. 

Joan blushed suddenly aware of her own appearance before the well-groomed 
woman. She knew that she must look worn and frazzled. She could feel the 
back of her dress, drenched in perspiration, her hair disarrayed and 
tangled. In contrast, Celia looked cool and sure of herself. Her long, 
almost jet black hair was pulled back in a neat chignon, with a few stray 
locks softly dangling by the side of her face. She wore a western outfit 
with a blouse that plunged daringly low in front, revealing the deep 
cleavage of her full bosom. The only jewelry she wore was a tiny silver 
locket on a long chain that bounced nervously around the valley between her 
breasts each time she moved. Her large hazel-green eyes glistened with mirth 
now, as if reading Joan's thoughts. 

"You look beat, Honey," she smiled. "Why don't you go freshen up a bit, and 
join us for a drink before dinner. I'll get Rich to help you with your 
bags." 

She waved at one of the ranch hands, and he came ambling slowly over to meet 
them, almost grudgingly. 

"Rich," she said, "take Mrs. Carpenter's bags over to room I6." 

Joan could tell that Celia openly disliked Rich...by the distasteful look on 
her face, and the tone of her voice. But, Rich picked up her bags and walked 
away without so much as a nod, as if he hadn't noticed her cold manner 
towards him. 

Joan followed him around the main house to a small cluster of bungalows in 
back. He stopped at number sixteen and pulled a key off a large brass ring. 

"Here's your key," he mumbled. "Open it." He nodded to the door and picked 
up the suitcases again. 

Joan cringed at his closeness. His breath was sour with whiskey, his eyes 
half closed and blood shot. The heavy odor of stale sweat clung to his 
clothing and she could see large stains of perspiration around the armpits 
of his shirt. She quickly unlocked the door and led him into the room, 
ignoring his presence and busily opening the drapes and windows to let some 
air in. The room was like an oven and her dress clung wetly to her body 
outlining every curve and crevice. 

When she turned to get her luggage, she was surprised to see Rich still 
standing there, lewdly staring at her sensuous body, his eyes bright and 
gleaming, exposing his salacious thoughts. 

"That's all, Rich," she said coldly, sickened by his obscene expression. 

He stood there a few seconds longer, and then to her relief, turned to go. 

"Dinner's in one hour," he muttered, shuffling out and not bothering to 
close the door as he left. 

Joan walked quickly back over to the door and shut it. The room was hot and 
sticky in the sweltering heat and the curtains at the open windows barely 
stirred in the motionless air. She longed for the cool evenings on the San 
Francisco Peninsula as she stripped the dress from her damp shoulders. 

Later, in the comfort of a cold shower, she began to feel better. Everything 
seemed to be working out all right, she thought. Celia seems to be awfully 
nice and it's a pretty place. Just as long as I can avoid that disgusting 
Rich! The memory of the way the man had leered at her sent shivers down her 
back and she hurried out of the shower and began to dress. 

She wasn't quite sure how she should dress for dinner. Joan would have 
preferred the comfort of a pair of slacks and a blouse, but finally decided 
that she should wear a dress just to be safe. Choosing a light one in soft 
green she slipped it on and posed before the mirror to judge her appearance. 

Joan tossed her thick mane of honey-blonde hair casually across her 
shoulders and felt a tremor of pleasure as she looked at her image in the 
full length mirror. At least I don't have to worry about my figure, she 
thought. I may not look like a fashion model with these breasts, but who 
wants to be built like a rail anyway? 

It was true. Joan's face had the sculptured perfection of the loveliest 
cover model, but there the resemblance ended. Her high, thrusting breasts 
and the swelling curves of her hips and thighs would have overwhelmed the 
fashion world, just as it did each man who saw her. 

A moment later, after carefully inspecting her make-up, she closed the door 
softly behind her and walked gracefully across the white stone path to the 
sprawling ranch house. 

She paused to look around. The New Dawn Dude Ranch was set against the 
rolling foothills about fifteen miles from town. All of the raucous noises 
and neon lights of Reno seemed nonexistent out here in the peaceful 
quietness of the valley. Joan hadn't known what to expect after all the 
stories she had heard, most of them humorous, about dude ranches for women 
awaiting divorces. She had thought it would be no more than a country club 
with a few phony cowboys and several gentle, over-aged horses, but the New 
Dawn seemed to be run almost like a regular ranch. When she had driven up 
she had noticed several cowboys watching another breaking a horse in the 
corral and the foothills dotted with herds of cattle. 

She breathed in the cool evening air and began to look forward to her stay. 
It seemed so peaceful, so removed from the cold glitter of Reno. She had 
just begun to hope that the matter of Nick Casetti could be taken care of as 
soon as possible so that she would be able to relax out here for several 
weeks when the front door of the main house opened and she heard someone 
calling her. 

She turned and saw Celia Johnson waving to her. The tall brunette was still 
dressed in the pair of tightly cut slacks and western-style shirt and boots. 

"Joan, come on in. You just have time for a drink before dinner." She 
paused. "No, wait. We'll have one together out here on the veranda. Have a 
seat, and let me make you a Collins." 

Before Joan could answer, the older woman disappeared into the house. She 
took a seat on the wide porch and thought a little thankfully that it would 
give her a chance to relax before she went through the ordeal of meeting the 
others inside. 

"Here you are, dear," Celia Johnson said as she handed her a tall, frosted 
torn collins. "This should clear away a little of the dust...and besides, 
it'll give me a chance to answer some of your questions." She smiled warmly 
at Joan before she continued. "I saw you standing out here and thought you 
might be having some misgivings about the New Dawn." 

"Thank you very much, Mrs....uh, Miss..." 

"It's Celia, dear. We all go by our first names out here." 

"Thank you, Celia. No, I didn't have any misgivings...it just seemed so 
peaceful and pretty that I was taking my time before I went inside." 

"It is peaceful, that's for sure. Sometimes it's too peaceful for my 
liking," the woman laughed. "At least there's a party tonight! Say, I guess 
you already knew about that, huh?" She looked down at the dress Joan was 
wearing. 

"What? Oh, the dress. No, I didn't know there was a party. I just didn't 
know what to wear to dinner, and I thought I would be safest in a dress." 

"We all dress like a bunch of Hollywood cowboys around here. But the dress 
is great...this way you won't have to change." She raised her glass. 
"Cheers!" 

"One of the big wheels down in the Valley is throwing a party at his hunting 
lodge," Celia continued. "We should really have a great time." 

Joan nodded and wondered if she was ready for another party. She thought a 
little bitterly that the last party she'd gone to certainly hadn't turned 
out very well. The scene in the bathhouse was still cruelly etched in her 
mind. 

"Say, Joan, why don't you drive over with me? I can introduce you to 
everyone and..." 

"Celia, I'd love to," Joan interrupted, "but would I be welcome? I mean, I 
haven't been invited." 

"Are you kidding. With your looks? They'd probably bar me from all the 
parties if they found out I didn't invite you." The older woman laughed, and 
tapped her on the shoulder. "We'd better hurry with these drinks. Come on 
inside, and I'll tell you more about the party at dinner." 

As they both stood Celia Johnson took her arm. "And, don't worry about these 
people inside. I'll introduce you, but there are only a couple that are 
worth meeting." She laughed. "I shouldn't say that, I know, but most of 
these women are wandering derelicts that are doing their husbands a favor by 
getting a divorce." 

They paused just before they went inside and looked out over the barns and 
corrals. With the sun setting behind the foothills it looked like a scene 
from some cinemascope western. 

"Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing out here away from everything," Celia 
said, "but Joe...you'll meet Joe, my partner...Joe takes care of everything 
on the ranch, and I just entertain a bunch of wealthy women." 

About a half an hour later, Joan sat amid a roar of chattering women and 
several cowboys in a large chuck house-style dining room. Celia had been 
right. There hadn't been many of the women that Joan had felt comfortable 
with. Moments after being introduced, several of them had immediately 
started probing about her divorce, and barraged her with sordid stories 
about their own husbands. There had been a couple, though, that had seemed 
as uncomfortable with all the questions as she had, and Joan had felt a 
certain kinship with them. 

As for the men; she hadn't really had a chance to form any opinions. There 
was Rich, of course, and she still felt a strong sense of repulsion each 
time she saw him leering at her-and there were several cowboys that looked 
just a little too pretty and assured to her...like the young men you see 
draped on the arms of rich older women in every large city. 

She glanced again at the man on her left. Joe Sheppard met her look and she 
felt a flush of warmth. My God, he's a rugged looking man, she thought, I've 
never seen a man that looked so masculine. 

Celia Johnson watched the look that passed between them and felt a quick 
rush of anger. Celia was used to women being attracted to Joe Sheppard and, 
because she felt that he belonged to her, it gave her a sense of 
satisfaction, but, seeing the same look of desire in his eyes infuriated 
her. Joan Carpenter had better keep her hands off him, she thought angrily, 
or she's going to be awfully sorry. 

Celia Johnson's accusing thoughts were unfounded, however, because the young 
blonde had no serious designs on the tall cowboy. The episode between her 
husband and Gail Martin was too recent, had hurt her too much for her to 
give any thought to another man. She couldn't believe that the man she loved 
so much could have done that to her and the wound was still too raw and open 
for her to bare herself to another man's attentions. 

She turned back to the food before her and tried to concentrate on snatches 
of conversation around her. 

"Joan, why don't we have a quick brandy before we go to the party?" Celia 
had reached over and tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Fine. I'd like that." Unaware of the other woman's feelings, she turned to 
the man at her side. "Joe, will you join us?" 

"Why, yes...I'll have someone bring it into the den." He took her arm as she 
rose and the three of them went into the other room. He was aware of the 
hard glint in Celia's eyes and it annoyed him enough to make him purposely 
more attentive to Joan Carpenter. 

During the few minutes that they sipped at the brandy Joan noticed the 
change that had come over Celia and wondered what had caused it. Perhaps if 
she had been consciously flirting with Joe Sheppard she might have been 
aware of the reason for the other woman's anger-but as it was, it never 
occurred to her. She was a little relieved when she felt the tension 
disappearing after Joe had left the room. He was driving over in his own car 
and had gone to change for the party. 

"You'll probably meet a friend of mine at the party tonight," Celia said as 
they pulled out in the Cadillac convertible. The warmth had returned to her 
voice and Joan felt more at ease. As a matter-of-fact, she was beginning to 
look forward to the party. 

"Nick Casetti." 

Joan jumped involuntarily at the sound of the man's name. "What!" 

Surprised, Celia Johnson turned. "I said you'll probably meet a friend of 
mine, Nick Casetti, at the party. What's the matter? Do you know Nick?" 

"What...oh, no...I just had a chill, that's all." 

"Oh, do you want me to stop and put the top up?" The other woman began to 
slow the car. 

"No, Celia, please...it's fine. I like it like this. The air's so fresh." 
She reached for a cigarette-wanting to do something with her hands that had 
begun to tremble-and hoped the woman hadn't noticed the tremor in her voice. 
I feel like a harpy, she thought. Celia's being so nice to me and I'm just 
using her! 

They drove for almost a half an hour with Delia doing most of the talking. 
Joan tried to listen to her descriptions of the guests that would be at the 
party, but her mind kept returning to the thought of Nick Casetti and what 
Emmett Castle had told her about him. 

Well, at least I won't have to do any snooping around tonight. The party's 
out at his house, and I can't very well go up and ask him where he keeps his 
negatives! She eased back into the soft leather seats of the red convertible 
and tried to calm the nervous fluttering of her heart. After a while she 
began to feel a little better; the brandy after dinner had spread a warm 
glow through her body and dulled the painful memory of Bill at the same 
time. 

She watched expectantly as Celia turned the convertible into a wide, 
sweeping driveway rimmd with poplar trees. It was obvious as they pulled up 
in front of their host's house that he was very wealthy. She could imagine 
how magnificent the huge house would look in bright sunlight. 

An attendant came around and opened the car doors for them and Joan got out 
to follow Celia up the broad flight of stairs. As they entered the house the 
soft stillness of the night outside was challenged by loud laughter and the 
sound of a band playing somewhere inside. 

Joan handed her coat to a maid and felt a little defenseless as if she were 
giving up her armor before entering battle. Having Celia by her side made 
her feel a little better, but it had been so long since she had been 
anywhere alone without Bill. She wasn't even certain she would even know how 
to handle another man again. 

"Come on, Joan, I'll take you in and introduce you to everyone. It sounds as 
if the party's been going for quite a while." 

"Okay, Celia, but lead me to a drink first." She tried to keep the 
nervousness out of her voice, but she felt Celia must have noticed it. 

"Hey, you still sound a little upset...come on, a drink will help." Celia 
took her arm and led her into a huge living room crowded with people. 
Everyone seemed to be animatedly involved in conversation and cocktails and 
no one noticed them at first. 

"Celia! I'm delighted you made it...particularly in such beautiful company." 
Joan turned to see a heavy set man in a maroon dinner jacket approaching 
them and holding out his arms to the woman at her side. 

"Oh, Jack, there you are. I was looking for you. I wanted you to meet Joan 
Carpenter." Turning to Joan, she continued: "Joan, this is Jack Petrie, our 
host." Then she added in an exaggerated stage whisper; "Watch out for him, 
Joan, he's the biggest lecher in Nevada," and laughed. 

"Don't believe a word she says, Joan. I'm absolutely harmless." I 

Joan laughed in return, but after seeing the glint in the man's eyes she 
began to wonder if Celia wasn't telling the truth after all. 

"I find it hard to believe that you're harmless, Mr. Petrie...but, if you'll 
lead me to the bar I may give you the benefit of the doubt." She held out 
her arm and, taking it, the heavy man guided her through the crushing crowd 
to a portable bar that had been set up in the corner. 

"What'll it be, Joan? Joe here can make any drink known to man." He squeezed 
her elbow and added: "and I wish you'd call me Jack. 'Mr. Petrie' makes me 
feel old and decrepit." 

After ordering a martini, Joan began to hope that Celia would join them 
soon-or that someone, at least, would come over and distract Jack Petrie. He 
dropped his hand to her waist and was holding her possessively like a 
new-found property. 

"Jack, why don't we try to find Celia?" She laughed, and tried to disguise 
her discomfort. "I don't want her to think I've already succumbed to your 
devastating charm." 

"Okay," he said a little unhappily, "but only if you'll promise to spend a 
little time with me later." 

"I'd be happy to. Come on, I think I see her over by the fireplace." She 
nudged him in the direction of a large group of people on the other side of 
the room. At least there's safety in numbers, she thought. i 

A few moments later she was surrounded by several admiring men and the 
unhappy glances of a few women who'd lost their places as the centers of 
attraction. 

One man stood apart from the group by the fireplace and watched. He was 
tall, rather dark, and so well dressed that he looked as if he'd just 
stepped out of a London Saville Row tailor's shop. From a distance he 
appeared to only casually be looking around the room, but under closer study 
it was obvious that his complete attention was centered on the startling 
blonde in the light green dress. 

Joan Carpenter's natural loveliness did make the other women seem 
overdressed and gaudy in comparison, and it was easy to understand why most 
of the men in the room seemed to be gravitating toward the place where she 
stood. 

The tall man stood silently for several moments and then, seeing Celia 
Johnson pass by, he called her over to him. They spoke quietly for a minute 
and then she left him to join the group by the fireplace. She returned a 
moment later with Joan in tow. 

"Nick, I'd like you to meet Joan Carpenter...Dear, this is Nick Casetti, 
remember I told you about him on the way over." He turned casually, as if 
the introduction was completely unexpected. "It's certainly a pleasure to 
meet you. I would have come over to join you, but you were so surrounded by 
hungry wolves that I didn't think I'd have a chance." He smiled, and Joan 
was a little surprised by his warm sincerity. He didn't seem like the man 
Emmett Castle had described. But then, she thought, I don't suppose 
blackmailers have any special look about them. 

"How do, you do, Mr. Casetti...Celia speaks quite highly of you." 

"Well, don't pay any attention to her, I'm actually a pretty horrible 
person," he said disarmingly. "Can I get you another drink?" 

"Why yes, please. Do you mind if I walk over to the bar with you?" She took 
his arm and smiled up at him. I may become a good spy yet, she thought as 
they walked across the room. She wondered about Nick Casetti, he just didn't 
seem like the type of person the investigator had described to her. 

"I'm glad you came over when you did," she said to the man at her side. "I 
was beginning to have a little trouble with Mr. Petrie and he was becoming 
awfully hard to handle without getting rude myself." 

"Why? Oh, Jack. Yeah, he's quite a character...or at least he's built 
himself quite a reputation," Nick said, and laughed. "I'll try to protect 
you, but I can't promise anything. It's easy enough to see why he'd latch 
onto you...and I'm not sure I'll be able to control myself!" 

She smiled, beginning to feel more at ease with him. It was hard to believe 
that he was what he was supposed to be. "I'll trust you, Nick, at least I 
think I will." 

Nick Casetti ordered two martinis and they stood in the relative quiet by 
the bar and talked for a while. It seemed that he had some sort of 
partnership in one of the gambling casinos, and the subject of gambling made 
a very easy topic to talk about. Later, as she was starting to wonder how to 
inveigle an invitation to his house-to see if she could find out anything 
for Emmett Castle-he invited her to dinner the following evening. She 
agreed, and thought at the same time that there would be nothing to find. 
She was sure by then that the investigator, or his client, was wrong about 
Nick Casetti. It just didn't seem possible, after talking to him, that he 
was the type of man that would have anything to do with any blackmailing 
scheme. 

It seemed as if it had only been minutes, but as she looked around she 
realized that they must have been talking for almost two hours. The party 
had gotten considerably noisier and, by the glazed expressions on everyone's 
faces, the bartenders must have been awfully busy. 

Strangely enough, there didn't seem to be as many people in the room as 
there had been and she wondered for a moment where everyone had gone. It 
didn't seem to matter much though, because the ones that were left were 
making enough noise for a stadium football crowd. 

The small band was still playing and the floor was dotted with couples 
dancing. Dancing, she thought, they look like they've been glued together! 

"Dance?" 

"What?...oh, why yes, I'd like to, Nick." His question had taken her a 
little by surprise, and as they moved out onto the floor she realized that 
so had the martinis. She hadn't felt them so much standing still, but now 
her knees felt a little weak as she tried shakily to move to the throbbing 
rhythms of the music. 

Joan felt a flush of heat race through her body as he pulled her against him 
and she felt the warm closeness of his body. The lights in the room had 
dimmed, and the dimness combined with the sensuous beat of the music made 
her very aware of his touch and the hardness of his body. She felt his hips 
moving slowly and grindingly against hers, and then she felt the swelling 
pressure against her belly, hardening against her. It frightened her, but, 
before she could say anything someone had tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Nick, you're being awfully greedy. Do you mind if I dance with Joan?" 

It was Joe Sheppard, and he stood smiling slightly as he waited for Nick 
Casetti's answer. 

"Oh, good evening, Joe." A cold tone filled with animosity came into his 
voice. "I didn't see you earlier. No, I suppose it's all right...if Joan 
doesn't mind, that is." He turned to her, as if he hoped that she would. 

She didn't know what to say. It had been fun talking to Nick, but dancing 
with him had made her a little nervous. She had been able to feel the way 
her body had aroused him and it had changed him from a charming 
conversationalist into just another man who wanted her physically. 

"No, I don't mind. See you in a few moments, "Joan?" 

"Nick?" But, her question went unanswered and she was left with the sight of 
his retreating back. 

"I hope you really don't mind, Joan...I just thought you might want to be 
rescued," Joe said as he took her into his arms. 

"Rescued? From what?" 

"From Nick Casetti." He spat out the name like a bad taste, and his obvious 
dislike puzzled her. 

He didn't answer at first, just held her gently as they danced, and then he 
cupped her chin in his hands and lifted her head until she was staring into 
his eyes. 

"Joan, you shouldn't have anything to do with that man. He's nothing but 
trouble and I'd..." 

"You'd what!" she interrupted abruptly. "I don't think it's any of your 
business in the first place, and secondly, he's been a perfect 
gentleman-which is more than I can say for you!" 

"Joan, listen to me. You don't know him...you don't know his reputation." 
He'd stopped dancing with her and was leading her toward the door to the 
terrace. 

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me, Joe?" She felt as if she were 
being led around like a small child and she tried angrily to pull her arm 
from his grasp. 

"Just out here, Joan, I want to talk to you for a moment," he said as they 
stepped out onto the terrace. 

"Well, I don't want to talk to you. I don't think what I do is any of your 
concern. For your information, I happen to like Nick Casetti. And as a 
matter-of-fact, I'm having dinner with him tomorrow night." 

"Joan, you can't. Please listen to me." He spun her violently around to face 
him, his hands on her shoulders. 

She slapped him. The sound of her hand sounding like a pistol shot in the 
quietness of the night. She'd done it without thinking, and the stinging 
pain in her hand brought her to her senses. She tried to think of the words 
to apologize, but before she could open her mouth he turned angrily and 
walked away. 

"Joe...wait...Joe, I'm sorry..." she called out, but all she could hear was 
the crunching of his retreating footsteps in the gravel driveway. 

She went back inside and headed for the bar. With another martini in her 
hand, she looked around for Nick Casetti. He wasn't there, and of the few 
people left in the room there was no one she knew. 

Moments earlier Celia Johnson had been in the living room. She had watched 
Joe cut in on Nick and Joan and the sudden rush of hatred she had felt had 
almost made her tremble. When the cowboy had taken Joan out onto the terrace 
a violent jealous rage and filled Celia Johnson and, after waiting a few 
moments for them to come back in, she had gone through another door that led 
to the terrace from the other side of the house. 

Celia had walked quietly around the house, expecting at any moment to find 
them embracing in some dark corner. And she'd found no one! A couple of 
minutes later she stood in the vacant spot where she'd seen Joe Sheppard's 
car parked. Then she knew they'd left together and after cursing silently 
and viciously to herself, she rushed back to her car and headed for the New 
Dawn Dude Ranch. 

Completely unaware of what had happened outside Joan was back inside and 
sitting on one of the bar stools as she waited for Nick or Celia to return. 
She had another martini before the bartender left with a tray of drinks, and 
then she was alone in the large littered living room. 

She couldn't understand where everyone had gone. At first she thought they'd 
just gone home but it seemed too early for that, and then it occurred to her 
that they might have paired off and disappeared into some of the bedrooms. 
She'd heard of parties like that, and if that was the case she certainly 
wasn't going to go and look for them. But, when the bartender, Joe, had made 
a large round of drinks and left the room she realized that the party must 
be continuing somewhere else. 

Adding an ice cube to her drink and splashing a little more gin into it from 
a bottle behind the bar, she got up and left the room in search of the rest 
of the people. The liquor had begun to hit her pretty heavily and she 
stumbled a little as she wandered aimlessly through the corridors and 
listened for some sound of a party. 

Finally, just as she was about to give up, she heard laughter coming from 
behind a pair of double doors at the end of the hall. That's where it is, 
she thought; Nick and Celia are probably in there. She opened the doors and 
stepped into a darkened room. 

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and there was a strange whirring 
noise that puzzled her for a moment. 

"Shut the door, Honey, and come on in...the water's fine," a voice shouted, 
and was followed by a wave of laughter. 

"Yeah, walk about ten feet and turn around." Someone else laughed. 

She had no idea what they were talking about until she turned and looked up 
at the wall above her head. The flickering lights didn't make any sense at 
first, until she stepped back and realized everyone was watching a movie 
that was projected on the wall above her. 

"Down in front!...hey, sit down!" 

She ducked and tried to move back, stumbling over couples on the floor. 
Someone took her arm and she tried to pull away. Then she realized it was 
Nick. 

"Joan, come back here with me." He led her back through the sprawled people, 
guiding her so that she wouldn't trip over the couples who lay all over the 
floor. 

"Finally god rid of that cowboy, uh?...here...here's a place," and he pulled 
her down onto the floor beside him. 

"He had to leave, Nick. Where's Celia? I can't find her anywhere." 

"Hey! Shut up and watch the movie," some man next to her whispered. 

She'd forgotten about the movie completely, and now she turned to see what 
had everyone so excited. She sipped her drink and tried to make out what was 
happening on the screen but the film must have been old or something because 
at first she couldn't see quite what was going on. It looked like one great 
blur of black and white, flickering like some old-time movie. 

And then the camera moved back, and she realized what she had been watching. 
It had been the back of some man's head buried between a girl's thighs! It 
was a dirty movie! 

She gasped. And the sudden sound that burst from her throat shattered the 
quietness in the room. 

"Hey, Nick...what are you doing over there! 

"Yeah, Nick. Keep your girl quiet...we're just getting to the good part." 

She couldn't believe it. God, she'd never seen anything like that! The 
close-ups on the screen...she could even see the man's tongue darting into 
the.. . 

"Nick! Get me out of here! What is this!" She rose jerkily to her feet and 
ran for the door. She tripped over a couple, kicking them hard with her 
shoe. She stopped to apologize, and then realized that they hadn't even felt 
it! All she could see were the man's naked buttocks rising and falling above 
the girl beneath him. 

She finally got outside and slammed the door behind her. She stumbled, 
almost drunkenly down the hall, trying to erase the memory of what she'd 
seen from her mind. 

Nick Casetti caught up with her. 

"Joan. Wait! Joan, I'm sorry...I thought you knew what was going on in 
there. 

"Nick, how could they...you...you were in there too..." her voice trailed 
off, and then she continued angrily, "Where's Celia?" 

"I don't know, Joan...I saw her earlier. I know she wasn't back there in the 
movie, she must have gone home." He took her arm, and his voice had 
softened. But all he could see was his face as he'd watched that movie and 
she knew that the attraction she'd felt for him would never return. 

"She wouldn't have gone without me. She drove me over here, I know she 
wouldn't leave." But, as she said it she realized that she hadn't seen Celia 
at all for a couple of hours. 

"Let's take a look outside and see if her car is still here." Nick said and 
led her toward the front door. "Don't worry. If she's gone I'd be happy to 
take you home." 

The convertible was gone, and Joan heard Nick talking to the parking 
attendant. "Yessir, Mr. Casetti, an' she sure left in a hurry. Man, that 
woman sure was mad at somebody!" 

He walked back toward her and she knew that she'd have to accept his offer 
of a ride home. There was no other way. There may have been some other 
people from the dude ranch inside watching the movie, but she certainly 
wasn't going back to find out-besides, she couldn't stand the thought of 
riding home in the same car with some woman who'd obviously enjoyed that 
sort of thing! 

As he helped her into his car she thought sarcastically to herself. Another 
Cadillac! Naturally, what other kind of car would a man like that drive? And 
Celia too. She's probably as bad as Nick Casetti-bringing me here and then 
stranding me! 

The atmosphere was cold and strained as they drove home. Joan's thoughts 
were in too much of a turmoil as she remembered the scene in the movie, and 
as she wondered about Nick Casetti and Emmett Castle: She had heard about 
movies like that but had never had any desire to actually see one. She'd 
never thought about herself as being prudish or overly innocent, though Bill 
had teased her more than once. Several times he'd called her naive when he 
had tried to urge her into a different position when they were making love. 

As they drove in the eerie silence of the big car, Nick Casetti was also 
involved in a confusion of thoughts. He was very attracted to the beautiful 
blonde girl beside him, and also a little disturbed by her violent reaction 
to the movie she'd seen. He wondered about his date with her the following 
evening. Now, he wasn't so sure he really wanted to take her to dinner. 
Hell, he wasn't even sure she'd still go. Still, it seemed like more of a 
challenge that way. He finally decided not to say anything more to her about 
it this evening. Rather than take the chance on a refusal from her while she 
was still upset, he'd wait until the following day, and give her a call. 

* * * 

There was very little light in the room back at the New Dawn Dude Ranch as 
Celia Johnson talked to the man on the bed. 

"Rich, you just do what I say. I know that she's interested in you. She told 
me herself." The woman's voice was cold and harsh, and the single light bulb 
hanging on the long cord gave her face a hard, brittle appearance. 

"I saw the way you looked at her, the way you wanted her. All I'm doing is 
giving you the green light to take her." The woman laughed bitterly. "I want 
you to take her, Rich, and give her a lesson she'll never forget!" 

The fat man on the bed sensed the vengeance in Celia Johnson's voice. And 
though his mind normally worked very slowly he was pretty sure he knew why 
the woman had come to him with her proposition. 

"But...Missus Johnson, suppose she tells somebody?" 

"I told you not to worry about anything, Rich. I'll take care of her if she 
tries to cause any trouble. I'll be your alibi; you just do what I told you 
to do! Besides, there's nothing for you to worry about, I told you she said 
she wanted you." She stopped and lit a cigarette. 

"You want me to go over there now, Missus Johnson?" 

"No, Rich," she said triumphantly, "wait a while until everyone's asleep." 
No, you can't go over there now, you stupid bastard, Celia Johnson thought, 
she's probably still with Joe! But I'll fix her, I'll fix her good so he'll 
never want to look at her sweet little body again. 

* * * 

"Thank you, Nick. I'll see you tomorrow." Joan Carpenter purposely kept any 
emotion out of her voice as she said goodnight to Nick Casetti. She didn't 
want to give him any opportunity to ask her about dinner the next night-not 
until she had more time to think about it. 

She watched him walk back to his car and drive away, and then stepped into 
her cabin. She wondered as she turned on the light if she should go over to 
Joe Sheppard's cabin and apologize for slapping him. He really hadn't 
deserved it, it was just that the whole night had made her so tense. Then 
she decided that it would probably be better to wait until morning. 

Several moments later, still damp from the shower and shivering from the 
cold, she slid under the covers and turned out the lights. The soft 
moonlight streaming through the window reflected against the silver of tears 
on her cheeks. 

Everything's so horrible and lonely, she thought. I want Bill here beside 
me! Why did he have to do this to me? I can't stand the thought of seeing 
Nick Casetti tomorrow, and yet I have to...I have to in order to get the 
money to divorce the only man I've ever loved. 

She lay there crying silently in the darkness for almost an hour before she 
was able to go to sleep. 

She had no idea how much later it was when she was awakened. Whether there 
was some sound that first stirred her she wasn't sure, but as she shook her 
head, her eyes still closed, to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her mind-the 
bed sagged with someone else's weight! 

She squirmed violently away from the wet, perspiring skin that suddenly 
touched hers and tried to scream, but as she opened her mouth her breath was 
shut off by the pillow that was brutally thrust across her face...choking 
her, and tumbling her into a mindless, frightening agony... 

Then she felt a great, heavy weight on her-a huge body slippery with sweat 
struggling on top of hers, and just as she thought her lungs would burst 
from the lack of air, the pillow was removed and a hand thrust painfully 
across her lips, crushing them against her teeth but allowing her to breathe 
through her nose. 

The man on top of her raised himself long enough to insert a hand beneath 
the neckline of her negligee and then he ripped it from her, shredding it as 
he tore it away. 

"I'm here...I came just like you wanted me to, Missus Carpenter...I wanted 
you too! I'll make you happy...I promise..." the words pounded into her 
brain, echoing, slurred-and the raw reeking smell of whiskey made her retch 
in revulsion. 

The voice. Her tortured mind couldn't recognize it at first, then she knew. 
Rich! 

Her arms and legs thrashed wildly as she tried to get away from him, but his 
great weight and strength made her helpless beneath him. She felt a hand 
scrabbling for something between her thighs, and then the other cruel hand 
left her mouth-but as she tried to scream some cloth, the torn nylon of her 
negligee was thrust into her mouth. Her scream ended at her lips and she 
gagged as the cloth caught in her throat.. . 

"Don't worry...I'm here just like you wanted...I won't hurt you..." The 
drunken voice, the hot breath like bellows burning into her ears, and as she 
struggled against his enormous strength, she knew she had no chance. 

Rich's huge, soft, pudgy hands scraped across her body-squeezing and 
pinching her aching breasts until her tortured nipples stiffened and then 
forced themselves between her thighs. Then she felt the hardness of his 
swollen penis pressing against her.. . 

The struggling girl arched her hips violently, trying to escape the 
ravishing lust of the man who had her pinned like a captured moth-but it was 
useless and the pressure of his knees was slowly forcing her legs apart. 

Oh dear God, it can't be happening! Please! It can't! Her mind kept 
screaming out in pain and fear. 

Joan's body writhed beneath his uncontrollably as she choked and heaved, 
nauseated and sickened at the thought of what was happening to her 
helplessly held body. 

Rich leaned back again and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand. 
The girl's moans had become a muffled echo and she let her body go limp, 
exhausted from the violent struggle. He still held her wrists fiercely in 
one large hand and they ached and throbbed in his tortuous grip. Each time 
she tried to move them the pain intensified a thousand times. 

Rich placed his other hand between the cleavage of her firm pointed breasts 
and stroked at the two fleshy mounds, gradually bringing them into hardness. 
In a sudden jerking movement, he lifted his chest away from her and looked 
down. Her breasts burst free from their imprisonment of his weight, and rose 
pulsating and white in the moonlight. Her tiny bud-like nipples peaked hard 
involuntarily from this exposure to the cool night air. 

"Ohhhh, Baby," he moaned drunkenly, sucking in his breath, "so 
beautiful...you're so beautiful." His words ran together into an 
indiscernible mumble as he dropped his head and ran his thick, moist lips 
hungrily over her breasts, his saliva drooling hotly down his chin and onto 
her trembling flesh. He began to suck at her right nipple like a nursing 
infant, bringing it to a hard, quivering point. Then he began to work on her 
left nipple, until it too was stiff and rigid from the stimulation of his 
obscenely sucking mouth. 

And, in spite of her revulsion, strange sensations rippled through Joan's 
body, penetrating the tortured haze that clouded her mind. An expanding 
heat-filled wave licked at her body as his wild, voracious sucking continued 
for a seeming eternity. 

Oh God, what's happening to me...oh, Bill, someone, help me...help me now! 
Her thoughts raced incoherently through her mind. A stifled sob racked her 
body and burst forth through the saliva-soaked gag in her mouth. 

"Missus Carpenter, I won't hurt you...I came just like you wanted me 
to...we're going to be so happy..." he murmured as he looked down at her 
with a dazed look on his face. He seemed to be completely unaware of what he 
was doing. Nothing mattered to his drunken mind except to satiate his 
burning desire to use and penetrate the defenseless body of the girl beneath 
him. But now, as he paused momentarily and gazed down into the blue wide-set 
eyes, dilated by fear into two great terror-stricken pools, a softness came 
into his voice. 

"Oh, Baby...I don't want to hurt you, you know that, don't you? Here, let me 
help you," he mumbled as he reached behind her for the pillow and tried to 
place it more comfortably beneath her head. He leaned back and placed his 
trembling hands on her quivering thighs. Then, running them slowly up the 
soft round curves of her hip, he began to knead at her belly until the 
tautness released into a soft yielding mass of helplessness. 

"OHhhhhh...that's it, soft and easy...so warm," he slurred as he moved his 
hand down and stroked greedily at the moist, open lips of warm, pink flesh 
between her thighs. Joan groaned in humiliation at the sudden more intimate 
touch and suddenly recovering her composure, she jackknifed her legs and 
kicked up at his lust-filled face. She caught him just beneath the chin. He 
reared back in surprise and pain, and forced himself down against her wildly 
thrashing body. In blind anger at her resistance, he brought his hand hard 
down against the side of her head, sending spinning circles of light and 
pain through her tortured mind. 

"Uhhhhggggghhh," he groaned, "you bitch! I'll teach you to play hard to get 
after leadin' me on like you done." he gasped as he grabbed at her throat. 

Joan shook her head violently, barely able to stand the blinding pain from 
his clenching fingers. 

"If you make a sound, or try to get away from me-I'll kill you! Do you 
understand?" Her eyes widened with renewed fear, forgetting the pain from 
his savage blow. She cringed away from him, shaking her head from side to 
side. 

"No...no...she says," he chanted, "No, she doesn't want to die." A hideous 
chuckle broke from his lips as he mumbled beneath his breath. 

In the moonlight, his eyes scanned the crests of her breasts heaving and 
contracting, and her thighs molded into curving ivory. His breath became 
heavier and harsher as he surveyed the helpless loveliness beneath him. 

A gasp of impatience escaped his lips as he grabbed savagely at her limp 
legs-he pulled them wide apart and without waiting knelt between them. 

Joan moaned in helpless fright as she saw his throbbing penis standing hard 
and erect from his paunchy body. She had never seen anything so horrible or 
frightening in her life. In the moonlight she could see the pulsating veins 
surging towards the large reddened head that was tipped with the moistness 
of his escaping seminal fluid, and she prayed for unconsciousness to free 
her from this lewd and hideous sight. Rich laughed out loud as he saw the 
growing fear in her eyes. He was going to fuck this proud snobby bitch and 
there was nothing she could do to stop him. He leaned forward, his mouth 
hanging loosely open, his eyes devouring the sight of her swollen breasts 
and swooping down to the full roundness of her thighs and smooth, white 
belly that was rising and falling in helpless panic as the straining girl 
fought to catch her breath. 

He circled his arms around her narrow trembling waist and crushed his body 
tightly against hers. 

"Nooooooo...Ohhhhhhh, please noooo," she moaned through the gag in her mouth 
as she felt his hands probing around the opening of her quivering vagina. 
She tried to press her thighs together in defense but it was hopeless. He 
had her frightened body pinioned so hard against the bed that her desperate 
struggles were useless. Her mind fought against the reality of what was 
happening to her, and the hot sharp pain that his hard, thick fingers 
brought to the lips of her quivering vagina. 

She cringed and bucked her hips upward to escape his searching hands, but 
Rich vengefully thrust his middle finger down past the lips of her cunt and 
pushed it harshly deeper and deeper into her tortured passage that clamped 
itself around the finger in a hopeless act of defense. 

"Aghhhhh Ahhhhh!" The smothered scream of pain expanded from her lungs and 
pushed out through her tightly clenched teeth. 

He laughed and pushed deeper until the palm of his hand pressed down flat 
against the open lips of her vagina, and ground his finger around and around 
until Joan's body was almost screaming from pain. She had no resistance, 
even in her agony-the threat of the fat man's words still echoed in her 
brain. 

The helplessness of this beautiful doll-like body beneath him engulfed 
Rich's body in lustful flames of uncontrolled passion. A passion that 
stimulated him beyond belief and at the same time held him in paralyzed 
ecstasy, fleetingly held him back from satiating his tormenting drive. He 
could think of nothing but plunging his burning prick deep into her liquid 
depths and drowning the hot desire burning inside him. 

A moist sucking noise resounded through the bedroom as he pulled his thick 
finger from the hot wetness of her vagina, he reached down to his erected 
penis and sliding forward between her widespread legs, pushed the swollen, 
throbbing head up against the lips of her vagina. 

Leaning over with the flat of his hand on her belly, he pushed his pelvis 
downward, aiming at the slight opening hiding beneath the hair-lined lips of 
her cunt. Joan felt a surge of pain in her arms as he gripped them tightly, 
and was rocked again a moment later by a searing, driving pain deep between 
her long thrashing legs. He was pushing and driving at her hair-covered 
pussy like a battering ram, brutally tearing at the quivering lips and then 
on past them into the helplessly contracting walls of her widely stretched 
vaginal passage. Joan groaned piteously, trying to move her hips away from 
the brutal intruder burning inside her but the evasive movement only incited 
the lust-maddened rapist to new heights, and he gave a powerful in-thrust 
with his pelvis, sinking his cock deep inside her heaving belly. 

The brutal impalement between her legs left her windless as her silent 
scream gasped through the gag in her mouth. Rich now crouched over her with 
his swollen cock buried motionless far up inside the aching heat of her 
ravaged cunt. His face was buried in the cleft of her delicately rounded and 
upraised breasts. He began to rapidly move his mouth from one mound to the 
other, licking and sucking at her flesh in a maniacal frenzy that sent 
lightning shafts of sensation coursing wildly through her heaving breasts. 

Joan bucked and writhed her body against her cruel tormentor in trembling 
protest of the brutal rape. Her movements drove him on. 

"That's it!...move...move faster...aghhhh...keep moving!"...he gurgled 
through the hot saliva drooling down the corners of his lips, the liquid 
dripping onto the mounds of her breasts and swirling in rivulets down into 
the reservoir of her soft white belly. Gasping and panting with delight Rich 
began to fuck rhythmically and gently in and out of the soft confines of her 
wet, open vagina. His fingers gripped her soft rounded thighs with sadistic 
strength, hurting her, squeezing groans of intense pain from her tortured 
throat as she struggled helplessly beneath him. He could feel the fleshy 
resistance deep inside her cuntal passage spread before the sensitive, 
engorged head of his prick. 

Suddenly, Rich had a feeling of absolute power over the young, voluptuously 
formed body twisting in total subjection below him. He gritted his teeth and 
began fucking her wildly, in and out with long hard lunges that seemed to 
ignite his passion to the tips of his toes. 

"Ahaaaaaggh!" Joan strangled through clenched teeth. Her aching vaginal 
passage was on fire. The great penis pounding into her felt like a giant 
skewer drilling deep into her belly. She began to struggle in a vain attempt 
to escape the cruel impalement, swinging her buttocks violently, but it was 
no use. Rich drilled into her up to the hilt, jamming his rock-hard penis 
into her clasping pussy with abandoned delight. 

He reached frantically beneath her squirming buttocks with both hands and 
began to pull her toward him to meet the driving thrust of his hips. 

The bed groaned and squeaked beneath her to the rhythm of the pounding shaft 
deep inside her hot liquid passage, and mixed with the passionate moans of 
her tormentor-moans that were now reaching a crescendo in her throbbing 
brain. She thought that he was going to split her wide apart as his 
battering penis plunged into her deeper and deeper until it felt as if it 
were burrowing all the way up to her heaving breasts. Her half-conscious 
mind fought violently against the torment of the massive, hot probe, 
fighting against the lewd realization of another man fucking her so cruelly. 
Thoughts of pain, humiliation and Bill swirled through her tortured mind. 
"Noooo oooo...NOOoooo!' please," she pleaded beneath his driving body. 

In the dim moonlight she could see his face, a mixture of lust and 
masochistic pleasure. 

"Uuuuuuuuggghhhh!" she grunted as he continued to buffet her down 
mercilessly against the creaking mattress. 

Again and again he drove his throbbing cock deep inside her pulsating eunt 
as her legs jerked out helplessly in the air on either side of his plunging 
body. 

"Agggghhhh...aahhhh...ahhhh," he moaned as he ceaselessly rammed his thick 
shaft into her white, screaming belly with long, cruel jabs. He could feel 
the hot, molten stream building in his inflated testicles, bursting and 
racing down the entire length of his throbbing pulsing penis. 

He was ready to explode! 

He gave one last throaty gasp as, with a violent jerk, he erupted somewhere 
deep inside to send breaking waves of white-hot liquids into the heated 
sheath that held him so tightly. Over and over it spurted 
forth...overflowing the reddened, tortured lips of her vagina, and draining 
down onto his testicles, and onto the soft matted pubic hair between them.. 
. 

His huge body collapsed on her trembling form in total exhaustion, and he 
lay heaving and panting, burying his head in the long tresses of her golden 
hair. 

When he recovered his breath he leaned back to smile lewdly and viciously at 
her cringing, broken body. He could see the reddened lips of her vagina 
glistening wetly in the faint light. 

But, even as he looked at her, saw her cringing in hopeless surrender, he 
still wasn't satisfied. He had to have more of her, had to hear her plead 
and scream again and again before he could be happy the snobby little bitch 
had learned her lesson. 

Rich grinned obscenely to himself as lewd thoughts ran through his 
sex-crazed mind. To know that the beautiful girl before him, beautiful even 
in her sobbing tears, was his to do with as he wished. 

He began to run his fingers hungrily over the softness of her flesh. The 
sight of her spread before him, mixed with the pungent smell of sex, drove 
his penis to a new and greater hardness. He moved his head down to the 
narrow pink slit between her thighs and began licking and probing greedily 
at her cunt. Stiffening his tongue, he drove the full length of it in her 
and then back up over the fluted, pink edges of her vaginal lips and over 
the tiny clitoris atop her pubic mound. 

Joan cringed and shuddered from the strange stimulation that was being 
forced upon her private parts. The sensation grew in intensity till a 
strange burning in her loins softly permeated her entire body. A low almost 
submissive moan gurgled from deep in her throat. Rich sensed her body's 
response to his manipulations and drew his head up as he slid up over her 
body, and planted his thick lips down over her mouth. His tongue snaked deep 
into her throat as with his other hand the gag was jerked from her lips. She 
groaned again in relief and her mouth inadvertently began a slow, mewling 
sucking against his lips. But it was only momentary as again the brutal 
realization of what was happening to her flickered through her 
half-conscious mind. 

When she had caught her breath, she could hear the echo of her voice begging 
him again for the mercy she knew would not come. "Oh, oh, please, please, 
stop, please stop! I-I can't-stand-it-can't stand it!" 

Ignoring her pleas, Rich slid his body up over her rapidly rising and 
falling belly so that he was straddling her chest. In the dim light Joan 
could see the erect phallus and the huge testicles that hung down obscenely 
over her breasts and shuddered in revulsion. His thick, rampant cock stood 
straight out from his belly, with the swollen scarlet head only inches from 
her gasping mouth. 

"Kiss it," he said in a cold quiet voice that sounded totally devoid of 
emotion. 

"Oh NO," she whimpered, her stomach churning violently from the thought of 
this ultimate degradation that he was trying to heap on her battered body. 

"Please...please don't make me do it." 

His reaction to her pleas was instantaneous. He reached behind him and with 
a cruel thrust up between her legs, rammed his finger deep into her vaginal 
passage and held her-digging cruelly at her insides with his probing finger. 

"AHhhhhggghhhhh...hhhh...aaaaaahhhh!" Joan moaned and screamed as the 
searing pain shot through the wet sensitive walls of her cringing vagina. 
She tried to squirm away from the racking torture but her movements only 
intensified the pain. 

Rich slid slowly up her slippery, sweat-soaked body until he completely 
straddled her breasts. With a quick flick, he brutally grabbed her by the 
hair and pulled her head forward to meet the harsh thrust of his thick 
penis. Without mercy, he rammed the massive, turgid head of his cock deep 
into her gaping mouth until it slapped hard against the back of her throat. 

Joan could feel the monster growing inside her mouth as he battered away at 
her unrelentingly-his heavy balls slapping harshly against her upraised 
chin. 

"Oh God!" She sobbed inwardly, "someone help me! Someone please help me!" 

But the giant cock was an overpowering driving shaft pummeling into her soft 
oval-shaped lips mercilessly, his fingers tore inhumanly between her 
widespread thighs at her wet, throbbing cunt-and the two giant probes, his 
finger and his penis, sent blinding waves of pain racing through her as he 
buffeted himself harshly up and down on her crumpled body. 

Rich's breath was coming in short puffing gasps now, with his eyes locked on 
her open mouth, hypnotically watching his huge penis nailing in and out. He 
began to lose control of himself as he felt the sperm building up in his 
balls ready to explode again. He delighted in seeing his great plunging 
penis driving in and out of her soft, ovaled mouth, but he could hold back 
no longer. Suddenly he threw his head back in a spastic motion and began 
uttering strange crazy sounds through his clenched teeth. 

"OHhhh hhhh, baby, ohhhhhh...ahhhh, I'm cumming...I...I'm 
cuuuummmmmnnnnggg!" 

Great tidal waves of hot white liquid flooded into her gasping mouth and 
flowed down the corners of her Tips. Joan thought she was drowning in a 
great rip tide as she gulped defensively at the white, sticky fluid that 
flooded through her teeth and tongue and down the cavern of her gorged 
throat. 

Ker tormentor gave one last low gasp as he emptied the last of his burning 
sperm into her gurgling mouth, then collapsed across her body, winded and 
exhausted... 

When he'd at last regained his breath, he clumsily lifted himself from her 
motionless body and rolled to his side until he sat on the edge of the bed. 

The fat, sweating man looked back down at the still body of Joan Carpenter. 

She wasn't making any sound except the harsh rising and falling of her 
breath. The cruel punishment had been too much for the tortured girl, and as 
he had withdrawn his softening, wet prick from her mouth he had felt her 
body slacken as she passed out from the brutal ravishment he had just 
subjected her to. 

He chuckled obscenely as he looked down at her semen-streaked ivory belly 
and saw the moonlight glinting against the wet glistening rivulets of liquid 
around her lips. 

The fat man rose a little shakily and picked up his clothes that were strewn 
at the side of the bed, but before he dressed he pulled the almost-emptied 
bottle of whiskey from his trouser pocket. 

He fumbled with the plastic cap and opened it, placing the bottle to his 
lips and taking several huge gulps of the hot warming liquid. He shuddered 
involuntarily as the liquid seared down his parched throat and warmed the 
bottom of his belly. 

The bottle empty, he threw it into the comer and hopped clumsily from one 
foot to the other as he pulled on his trousers and finished dressing. 

Moments later in the deadly silence of the room he patted the unconscious 
girl on one lewdly sprawled thigh, opened the door, and stepped out into the 
night, a wide grin of satisfaction flickering across his thick, pudgy lips. 

* * * 

 CHAPTER 4 

The phone rang four, five, six times and Joan began to hope that no one 
would answer. Then as she was about to hang up a voice on the other end 
answered, "Mr. Castle's office." Her voice trembled as she asked for her 
employer; she knew he would be upset when she told him that it was 
impossible for her to continue on the case. Joan knew that she didn't have 
the nerve to tell him what had happened the night before-she was too 
ashamed, too humiliated, and she couldn't bear the thought of his or anyone 
else knowing. 

"Mr. Castle," she said hesitantly as he came on the phone, "I'm sorry to 
bother you so early in the morning, but I...I can't finish this job...I just 
can't. It's all so horrible!" 

Castle heard the desperation in her voice and knew that something had gone 
terribly wrong but he couldn't afford to let her quit on him now. The 
clients hadn't been beating their way to his door the past few months and 
his biggest client, the one on this case, had enough power to steer others 
away from him if he failed to obtain these negatives. 

"Now, Joan," he answered consolingly, "I realize that blackmail is a bad and 
tricky business, but what has happened that is so horrible that you want to 
quit!" 

Her hands were shaking as she tried to steady the receiver in her hand, 
trying to muster enough courage to tell him the whole story, about Rich, 
about the party, so that he would understand, but she just couldn't. 

"Everyone is horrible. I went to a party last night and met Nick Casetti," 
she paused for a second trying to control the tremor in her voice, "I've 
never heard of, much less witnessed, such awful, degrading displays. They 
tried to get me to join in their little parlor games! It was revolting...I'd 
never have agreed to work for you if I had known what would happen!" 

"Well...suppose you tell me exactly what they did," he said, trying to worm 
the full story out of her without sounding like a voyeur about to get a 
vicarious thrill. He'd heard of some of the parties thrown by Celia's 
friends and he doubted that he'd be surprised by anything she told him. 

"I'd rather not," she answered, "it would be too embarrassing. Please just 
take my word for it. It was awful." She had to make him believe that it was 
the party that had upset her so much-she couldn't tell him about Rich! 

"Joan, please believe me. I know this is very hard for you, and I know 
you're extremely upset by something that happened last night, but you'll 
have to tell me more. You must realize that this case is very important to 
me, and that I already have a lot of money and my reputation tied up in it. 
I've advanced you quite a bit of money and I just can't afford to have you 
quit." He paused, and then added very gently: "You're probably just upset 
because it's so recent. Why don't you relax for a little while and call me 
back. I'm sure we'll be able to work something out. Perhaps you'll see 
things in a different light." 

"Alright," she murmured, knowing full well that no matter how long she 
thought about it, it wouldn't be any use. She couldn't forget the horrible, 
degrading way she had been raped and the things she had been forced to 
do-and she couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't bear the humiliation or the 
pitying stares. 

She put the receiver back in its cradle and stared at it. Why hadn't she 
thought of some other reason to get off the case before she called him? It 
wasn't going to be easy to get away now, especially since she could offer 
him nothing but ambiguous excuses, excuses that didn't make sense, that no 
one would understand. If she told him what had happened after she came home, 
she knew that he would go to the authorities and then there'd be a 
trial...she'd have to testify in front of strangers that she'd been raped by 
that horrible fat man!...She just couldn't do it! 

She lay down on her bed and tears of frustration and helplessness began to 
stream down her cheeks, dampening her pillow where they fell. Her whole body 
was trembling, shaking uncontrollably from the uncertainty that lay ahead of 
her. She couldn't face Celia or those people again...or Rich! She couldn't 
face them and know that they were laughing at her. She had to think of 
something concrete to tell Castle, something that would make him release 
her! She had to! 

She dragged through the next few hours, staying in her cabin and trying to 
avert any contact with Celia, Nick or Rich. She tried to think of what her 
life would have been like if she hadn't caught her husband with that woman. 
She'd still be home and happy with Bill, and her life would be as normal as 
any other married couple's, but now it was impossible. She wanted to be home 
again, to be able to forget all the horrible things that had happened to 
her-but she knew that it was only a wishful dream as she lifted the receiver 
and dialed Castle's number again. 

"It's me, Joan, Mr. Castle," she stammered. "I've been thinking about what 
you said and I'm sorry, but I just can't go through with it. It's 
impossible, I have to get away from here." Her voice was choked as she tried 
to stifle a sob. "I have to get away from here before Casetti comes by." 

"Casetti?" Emmett Castle tried to conceal the interest in his voice. "Why 
would Casetti be coming by there?" 

"Oh, well, he'd invited me to dinner tonight," she answered haltingly, "but 
I can't go now, please, I really can't." 

"But, Joan, don't you see how much better this is? If you go out with him 
tonight and get the information we need, everything will be over. Just one 
more day!" 

"Oh, no, please...I can't. I can't stand the thought of being near him," she 
cried out brokenly, "please don't make me do that." 

"Joan, I'm sorry," he replied, "but you have to. Otherwise everything will 
have been for nothing. I can't let you off the case right now. Remember that 
I did advance you your salary and expenses on this job and if I pull ycu off 
now I'd have to get someone else to take your place. And there's no telling 
when the right opportunity would arise again." He paused, hoping that he 
hadn't antagonized her. "Joan, look, let me increase your salary by fifty 
dollars, maybe that'll soften the blow a little. What do you say to that?" 

There was a long pause as she thought about what she should do. She needed 
the extra money now that she no longer had Bill to depend upon, and it 
hadn't really been Nick Casetti who had been so horrible to her. But, she 
just felt so dirty. 

"Well..." he asked, "what do you think. I'm waiting." 

"I guess that I could try it a little longer, just tonight, but if tonight 
doesn't work or if it gets any worse, I will have to quit." 

"Very well. I'll have a check in the mail to you today. But, try to stick 
with it..." then he added softly: "And be careful." 

Castle breathed a sigh of relief as he hung up the phone. At least she had 
agreed to continue with the investigation, even if he did have to give her 
more money. Money that he couldn't afford, but he could afford even less to 
be unsuccessful in this case. 

Joan stayed in her room the rest of the afternoon trying to think of some 
way to get some information on the negatives without having to be in the 
company of the people who had attended the party the night before. But her 
thoughts were shattered about four o'clock by a knock on her door. 

"Who is it?" she called out tremulously, hoping that it was neither Celia or 
Rich. 

"It's me...Nick Casetti," the voice answered. 

She stood motionless for a moment, almost afraid to open the door. Then she 
slowly walked over and let him in. 

He stepped inside and stood there smiling warmly at her and she thought that 
he really was a very charming man, but she had to remind herself that he was 
a blackmailer and no one to fool around with. 

"You're looking lovely again today," he said, grinning sheepishly at her. 
"I'm sorry if you found the party a bit out of hand last night, but please 
don't judge me too harshly." 

"I thought it was in very poor taste," she stammered, not wanting to blurt 
out naively that it was the most degrading, embarrassing situation she'd 
ever found herself in. 

"I know that the crowd can be very rough and crude at times, but how about 
forgiving me and, at least, don't back out on our dinner date," he asked, 
his eyes almost pleading. 

She really didn't want to go through with it but knew too, it was the only 
way she could fulfill the bargain she had made with Emmet Castle. 

"Very well," she said, relaxing a little. After all, she thought, it might 
just be fun, especially if he is really sincere about making up for the 
party. "Terrific," he said. "I'll pick you up about eight." He winked at her 
and left. 

She watched him walk away from the cottage. His walk was assured as was his 
smile. It was still difficult for her to believe that this handsome, 
charming man was really a blackmailer and that he had done some horrible 
things just for money, but he was supposed to have the negatives and it was 
up to her to get them. She almost wished that she had met him under 
different circumstances, that it hadn't been through a job and that she 
hadn't known what his game was. 

She prepared very carefully for that evening, wanting to look as alluring as 
possible in hopes that he would invite her to his place for a drink and she 
would have the opportunity to search for the pictures. Once she had them in 
her possession she could leave and let her life get back to normal, but she 
wasn't quite sure when that would be. 

The dress she wore clung suggestively to the full, rounded curves of her 
body, accentuating the soft, fullness of her ripe bosom, the narrowness of 
her waist and the slight bulge of her hips. Her long, slightly muscular legs 
curved gracefully beneath the hem of the short skirt and the material hugged 
the contours of her round, full buttocks as she walked. 

She looked in the mirror and decided that she was still a very attractive 
woman, even though that first glow of youth was gone. She was a woman, 
full-bodied and she wanted all the other things that women want...a husband, 
and a home and children. She still didn't understand why Bill had turned to 
another woman. She had given him all the love and attention he wanted, never 
refused him the conjugal bed. It had been a blow to her ego, her pride, her 
whole being, and had knocked some of her confidence out from under her, but 
as she saw her reflection in the mirror, she knew that she still had what it 
takes to catch a man. 

* * * 

Nick arrived at eight on the dot, bringing her a small corsage of tiny roses 
and greens. His eyes traveled over her body and he whistled appreciatively. 

"Well, I wouldn't have believed you could look any lovelier than you did 
last night. You look absolutely magnificent...truly beautiful." The words 
were almost like oil as they came from his mouth. He was smooth, almost too 
smooth. 

She smiled back at him and thanked him for the flowers and the compliments, 
but she wanted to get out of her place quickly, she didn't want to have to 
fight him off, not just yet. She could tell by the way he looked at her that 
he would definitely make a pass at her, but it had to be at his place. 
Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to look for the negatives, and that was the 
whole purpose of her being there or even having dinner with him. 

She casually took his arm and steered him toward the front door. 

"We'd better get going, I'm starved," she said, smiling up sweetly at him. 

"Sure thing, baby, anything you say," and they headed for the door. 

He drove down the highway for about fifteen miles and then turned off onto a 
road that looked as though it was rarely traveled. She didn't want to appear 
nervous, but she didn't like the idea of being out in the middle of nowhere 
with him either. 

"Where are we going?" she asked, trying to keep from sounding as though she 
didn't trust him. 

"Oh, there's a little place just off this road about a mile down. The owners 
are very good friends of mine and the food outstanding. I'm sure you'll like 
it. I know it's a bit out of the way, but you look so lovely tonight, I 
don't want to have to fight my competition off." 

His manner of speaking seemed very sincere, even though she knew that these 
were lines that had had many rehearsals. She leaned back in her seat and 
tried to relax, tried to think of some way that she could suggest going to 
his place without his taking it the wrong way. She hoped that he would be 
the one to suggest it, because she knew that if she did, he would take it as 
an invitation and that she didn't want, not even at the expense of the 
negatives. 

A few minutes later they arrived at a quaint little road stop cafe. It was 
very small, only about twenty tables filled the room and the decor was that 
of an Eighteenth Century pub or hostel. A flight of stairs disappeared into 
the darkness in one corner of the room and she surmised that this was where 
the proprietor lived. Music was piped in from somewhere, although she didn't 
see any speakers and the furniture was scratched and chipped, but it had a 
certain charm all of its own. 

A burly, red-faced man greeted them as they came in. 

"Greetings, Nick, good to see you again way out here...and what a charming, 
lovely lady. You must be doing something to please the gods!" He grinned at 
her and led them to a small table in one corner of the room. A few other 
couples were seated at tables, but it certainly wasn't a booming crowd and 
she wondered how they ever could afford to stay open. 

"Just down at the lodge for a few days," Nick said, speaking to the 
heavy-set man. "So I thought I'd come back for some more of your great 
cooking." 

"Glad you did," he answered, turning to walk to the kitchen, but giving her 
the once over another time. She didn't really like the way he looked at her, 
but she had dressed this way to attract Nick, so she couldn't really blame 
the other man for looking. 

"Would you like a cocktail," Nick said, reaching across the table and gently 
brushing her hand. "But let me warn you, the drinks here are strong." 

"I think I'm old enough to handle a martini or two," she said, feeling quite 
brave for some unexplainable reason. "With two onions," please. 

He motioned for a waiter to take their order and in a few minutes she was 
slowly sipping her martini, feeling the warmth of the alcohol burn her 
throat as it went down. She looked up at him, blinking and said, "I see what 
you mean about potent drinks. This has to be a triple." 

"Well, the old man doesn't do it on purpose. He-likes me and thinks he's 
doing me a favor by giving me strong drinks. Actually, sometimes it does 
more harm than good." He laughed as he said it, knowing that she had caught 
the double entendre. 

"There's no menu here, by the way," he added, "but I can tell you that 
whatever this place puts out, it is fantastic. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. If 
you don't, then we'll just leave and go somewhere else. Fair enough?" 

The strength of the martini was beginning to warm and mellow her insides and 
she could feel her whole body relaxing from the affect of the alcohol. 

"I'm sure everything will be just fine," she answered, smiling back at him. 
"I really don't have any preference when it comes to goods anyway." 

In a few minutes the owner came out carrying a tray with three different 
kinds of wines, a white, a red and a full bottle of champagne. Instead of 
asking which they preferred he set up two ice buckets for the white wine and 
champagne and placed the red on the table. 

"Isn't that a bit strange," she asked, looking at the array of bottles. 

"Not here," he said, "he believes in good drink, excellent food and superb 
company. I happen to be blessed with all three tonight!" 

She couldn't help but smile at his flattery. He certainly knew how to make a 
woman feel desirable. 

He poured her a glass of the chilled white wine when she had finished her 
martini, toasted her and took a long sip of the drink. The martinis had made 
her a little dizzy, but she kept thinking that she had to watch herself so 
that she could work effectively later on in the evening, but he was so 
charming it was difficult for her to remember that he was a blackmailer and 
she had to get the negatives. She hadn't been treated so well in such a long 
time that it was actually very pleasant. 

When they had finished the bottle of wine the dinner was brought to their 
table. She had never seen quite so much variety of food, hot and cold 
appetizers, soups, mixed grill and chilled fruit. 

"They certainly go all out for such a small place," she remarked. "It's just 
wonderful. You're right, I do like it." Her head was spinning and her words 
were coming out a bit slurred, but she was so relaxed that nothing mattered 
anymore. 

During the meal they finished the red wine and champagne and she found it 
difficult to keep her balance as she got up to go to the ladies room after 
they had finished. She balanced herself on the chair and the waiter came to 
her assistance. 

"I'm afraid that I outdid myself on the martinis and wine," she giggled. 

"That's quite all right ma'am," he said cordially. "It happens to the best 
of us at times." 

Nick watched her as she weaved her way to the powder room, watching the 
sensual movements of her hips, bouncing slightly as she walked. She doesn't 
wear a girdle, he thought and he smiled to himself. Perhaps that would make 
it easier to get between those long, slim legs. 

Joan tried to regain her composure once inside the privacy of the ladies 
room, but even the cold water she splashed on her face did not erase the 
effects of the alcohol. He rose when she returned to the table, supporting 
her gently with his hands and guiding her into the seat. 

"You feel all right," he asked sympathetically. 

"I'm a bit dizzy," she admitted sheepishly, half embarrassed, but really too 
high to care. 

"Well, maybe some fresh air will do you some good. Let's go back to the 
lodge and have a nightcap and I'll take you home." he said. 

"I could use the air," she said. "That usually does the trick." 

Her mind was blurred, but she remembered that she had to go back to the 
lodge in order to look for the negatives and this was a perfect opportunity. 
She wished that she hadn't drunk so much, but at least she didn't have to 
jeopardize herself by her suggesting going back to his place. 

He helped her up and steered her towards the door and out into the cool 
night air. The breeze against her face felt refreshing and she was beginning 
to feel a little better. On the drive back to the lodge she kept her window 
open, letting the night breezes caress her face, hoping for a sobering 
effect. The drive seemed to take forever, but maybe it was because she was 
just anxious to get there, find the negatives and get out. 

Finally they drove up the long driveway to the lodge and he stopped the car. 
She sat there waiting for him to come around to her door and let her out. He 
reached in and offered her his hand, letting his eyes wander down to the low 
cut neckline of her dress which revealed the deep cleavage and the round, 
fullness of her breasts. She caught his eye for a moment, but decided that 
his look was one of admiration for her figure and not one of lust. 

"You still look marvelous...enchanting," he said, as he pulled her gently 
from the car seat. He steadied her with his arm as they walked to the lodge, 
letting his hand wander a little further up on her body until he was almost 
cupping one of her ripe, soft breasts with his hand. His actions were so 
innocent, as if he were really trying to help her that she didn't say 
anything. Besides, his strength was reassuring and she almost felt the urge 
to collapse completely into his arms just to see if he would support her. . 

I can't think this way, she remembered, but he was being so considerate and 
gentle that she had to fight the impulse to completely surrender herself to 
him. 

The lights of the lodge almost blinded her as she walked into the main room 
and she blinked so that she could focus. 

"This will never do," he said, turning off the main switch as they went in. 
The lights darkened and the only glow came from the fireplace and the 
roaring fire. 

"Quite a romantic setting, isn't it," he said, looking at her smiling and 
seating her on the large, overstuffed couch. 

"Sit right there and I'll get us a nightcap...not too strong. Sherry all 
right?" he continued and walked to the kitchen, not waiting for her answer. 

She looked round the room, searching for the doorway that would lead to his 
study or bedroom. Surely he wouldn't be so obvious as to keep the negatives 
in the living room. That would be too easy, besides there wasn't a desk or 
any other place that he might have hidden them in that room. 

While he was in the kitchen she called to him, "Mind if I use your bathroom 
while you get the drinks?" 

"Not at all, it's through that door to your right and off of the bedroom," 
he answered. 

She struggled out of her seat and made her way through the doorway he had 
indicated. She went into the bathroom and turned on the water so that if he 
heard her he would think that she was indisposed and not bother to come in. 

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs so that she could be more 
effectual in her search, which she began by opening the dresser drawers. She 
looked in all the obvious places first, under the socks, in back of the 
drawers, under the bureau slip, but without luck. There was a small cabinet 
on one side of the room, and she tried the drawers. They seemed to be stuck 
so she tugged at them hoping to pull them out, but lost her balance and went 
crashing to the floor. 

Damn, she thought. It's locked and that must be where he keeps the 
negatives. 

As she was struggling to her feet she looked off to one side and saw Nick 
standing just above her. 

"Looking for something," he demanded harshly. 

"No...nooooo...I just lost my balance," she stammered, trying to remain 
calm. 

"I've been watching you for the past few minutes. What possible interest 
could you have in my bureau drawers, that is, if you just fell." His eyes 
were cold as he glared down at her. "But if you insist, let's forget the 
whole thing and have our drink." 

She couldn't really believe that he would let it pass so lightly, but maybe 
she had convinced him that she was just drunk and didn't know what she was 
doing. 

He helped her off the floor, pulling her up by the armpits and letting his 
hands run down the curves of her body, pulling her in closely to him as he 
lifted her to her feet. His mouth came down hard against hers, bruising her 
lips with a passion filled kiss. She tried to push him away, but her 
strength had been sapped by the alcohol. 

"Let's go into the living room," she finally managed to stammer as she 
squirmed her lips away from his. "It will be more comfortable." 

He led her to the other room and sat down beside her on the couch. 

As she sank into the soft, fluffy pillows her short skirt rode up above her 
knees revealing her smooth stockinged thigh and a slight ring of supple, 
white flesh where the garter belt held the stockings. She tried to 
straighten her skirt, tugging at the material, but his hand stopped her and 
his fingers gripped firmly into the fleshy softness of her thigh. 

Her head was spinning and it was difficult for her to resist him, and she 
couldn't take the chance of his discovering her real purpose of her visit, 
that is, if he didn't already know! She had her suspicions, but as long as 
he had not accused her outright, she would have to take her chances. 

Her skin was peach color, flushed from the alcohol and looked deliciously 
smooth, He wanted to grab her, run his hands over the white, full hills of 
her breasts, but restrained himself. 

"Please..." she stammered as his fingers continued to hold her leg firmly. 

She reached down to pick up her glass of sherry, but he caught her fingers 
and pressed them to his lips. 

"You are so beautiful...so desirable," he said. 

She didn't know what to say, so she just met his piercing glance hoping that 
he would let it go at that. 

Her lips were parted sensuously as if she were about to kiss him and he bent 
quickly and crushed his mouth onto hers once more, his tongue quickly 
slipping between her parted teeth. His hands moved to the cliff of her 
barely covered breasts and massaged the soft mounds that jutted up pertly 
above the constricting material. She moaned softly, trying to pull herself 
away from his urgent embrace, but he would not release her. His strength was 
overpowering, his mouth was devouring hers, passionately, demandingly. 

Her breasts felt warm and soft beneath his touch and she could feel the 
bulge inside his trousers growing, his penis throbbing and sticking out like 
a hidden revolver. 

"Stop...please..." she finally managed to stammer, pushing him away from her 
with one last burst of strength. "We mustn't...I can't.. . " and her words 
drifted into silence. 

The desire that was burning inside his trousers was as hot as the raging 
fire in the fireplace and he had to have her! He pushed her roughly against 
the cushions of the couch, his hands fumbling and grabbing at her clothing 
and every inch of uncovered flesh his searching fingers could find, pinching 
harshly. 

Tears of frustration began to stream down her face and she thought...it 
can't be happening again. What have I done to deserve this! Her struggles 
were fruitless and weak, the alcohol had taken care of that. She was 
completely at his mercy. 

"Please let me up...please," she begged, hoping that he would relent, but 
knowing deep inside that it was useless. He was like an animal, urgent and 
fiery...demanding. 

He tugged at the thin material of her dress, grabbing the neckline and 
tearing it away from her body so that her round, full, soft breasts were 
protected only by the lace of her brassiere. His mouth sucked at the 
voluptuous mounds of her flesh, biting cruelly as if he were trying to take 
all of the fullness in his mouth at once. 

She lay back, her eyes closed tightly together as if she could block out the 
nightmare that was happening, but she couldn't. Why had she drunk so 
much...why...why! 

He was crushing her with his weight, but the couch was narrow and he kept 
slipping when he tried to move on top of her body. She could feel the heat 
of his penis through the material of her dress that hung loosely around her 
waist and thighs. He stood up, grabbing her by the arms and dragged her into 
the bedroom, throwing her roughly on the bed. 

"No...no...no..." she almost screamed, but her voice was choked and she 
couldn't get the words out. 

He pressed heavily down on top of her and could feel her loins squirming 
underneath him, trying to get free, but the hot, heavy weight between his 
legs was not to be denied. He clawed at her clothing, ripping the remainder 
of her skirt and throwing it like a rag to the floor. Her breasts jutted out 
proudly from beneath the brassiere and he grabbed them roughly, pulling them 
free from their harness, tearing the lace in shreds until it too fell onto 
the bed. 

His face pressed against the smooth, soft mounds, biting and sucking at the 
tender, pinkish brown nipples, forcing them into involuntary erectness and 
she moaned weakly. His hands wandered down to the narrowness of her waist, 
gripping the taut, white flesh harshly, and down to the fleshy bulge of her 
hips. Her body was covered only by the thin black bikini panties, the garter 
belt and the black silk stockings. His fingers wormed their way beneath the 
tight elastic of her briefs and fumbled anxiously for the quivering treasure 
that lay beneath. 

Her hips bucked up against him in an effort to throw him off, but this 
merely incited him more as he felt the softness of her hips bumping into the 
hardness of his hot, throbbing cock. 

She managed to throw him off for just a second and with a quick gesture he 
reached down and undid the zipper of his fly, pulling his massive cock out 
and displaying it, grinning down at her. He tapped it with his hand and it 
swayed from side to side like the boom of a yawl, hard and long. Before she 
could roll over he threw his entire weight on her, gripping her knees and 
forcing them back against her full, soft breasts until they were squashed 
beneath her knees. She was bent back almost double and could not move. He 
moved up on her body and she could feel the urgent, huge cock jerking 
against the flimsy material of her panties and she knew that it would be 
useless to fight. His fingers tore at the material, trying to push it aside 
so that he could enter her, but the tightness of the elastic and the size of 
his mammoth penis prevented penetration into her open vaginal lips for the 
moment. 

He was like a wild man, his breath hot and rapid, his hands cruelly 
demanding satisfaction from every inch of her body. His hands grabbed 
roughly at her soft, round buttocks and he began to finger her from behind, 
prodding and pushing, searching for the clasp that held her garter belt. 
Finally he found the tiny hook and unsnapped it with a wild tug and her 
stockings wrinkled around her thighs as the pressure from the garter belt 
was released. She now lay vulnerable and at his mercy as he pulled her tiny, 
thin briefs down over the fleshy bulge of her hips. 

She was open for him, the black stockings ending half-way up her trembling 
thighs and he moved towards her, thrusting his hips forward, his penis 
jerking like the antenna of some monstrous bug. She tried to close her legs 
to prevent entry, but his hands pulled them cruelly apart and he stared at 
the forbidden portal he was about to desecrate. 

With one swift movement he maneuvered his pulsing, jerking cock between the 
tender lips of her vagina, teasing them, prodding them before her entered 
her. 

"Ohhhhhh god..." he choked out hoarsely. "Oh...god..." His whole body ached 
like he was one complete phallus demanding satisfaction. His hips ground 
into her, forcing the massive, purplish head of his cock between tY 
sensitive wet lips of her quivering vagina and into the tight, dry channel. 

"Stop...stop...you're hurting me..." she moaned. "Please...stop!" But her 
pleas fell on deaf ears. 

She no longer had the energy to fight him, so she tried to pull her hips 
back into the mattress of the bed, but the deeper she sank, the harder and 
faster he was on top of her. She could feel the bedsprings digging into her 
back until she ached horribly when with one final, cruel stab he penetrated 
her to the very depths of her belly. 

"Noooo," she whimpered, trying to fight the growing tingling at the hair 
covered apex of her long soft thighs. 

He drove his huge, throbbing rod of flesh into her until she felt her whole 
belly would split. She ached, but as he pounded away at her channel she 
could feel the walls of her vagina contracting around his massive cudgel, 
embracing it in an animal, natural reaction. Somehow the obscene rape began 
to excite her, adding fuel to the growing fire between her legs. She had 
never felt such hardness or length in her life...she had never been so 
filled with a penis! 

"God, you're tight...soooooo goooood..." he rasped as he could feel his 
testicles smacking hard down against the back of her uplifted thighs and 
buttocks. 

He forced her knees back against her shoulders to allow for even deeper 
penetration as he ground into her like a pile driver. He could feel her 
passage begin to lubricate as he fucked her...harder...deeper. 

"Tell me to fuck you..." he demanded..."Tell me!" 

She could feel herself reacting to this ravaging man in spite of herself and 
she whispered, "Fuck me!" She couldn't believe that these words were coming 
from her mouth, especially to a man who was raping her. Maybe it was true 
that every woman deep inside really wanted to be raped! 

The pressure in his loins was at a boiling point and he knew that he was 
about to shoot his sperm deep into her, plant his seed deep inside her 
quivering belly. She could feel his penis grow thicker and more urgent as he 
pounded away harshly at her body, and her body was reacting to his with the 
same urgency. 

"Here it comes...now..." he gasped and she felt the flood of his hot cum as 
he rocked out his climax inside her. When she felt the once hard, erect, 
massive penis emptying itself inside her it brought her to her peak and she 
groaned, "Yes...now...me too...I'm cuninmimmmmmming...ooooooh...oooooh yes!" 

When he was completely spent he fell onto the bed beside her, his penis limp 
and wet, his breathing uneven. She closed her eyes as tears began to well up 
inside her, as she was ashamed, humiliated, completely degraded. She 
couldn't believe that she had actually enjoyed and reached an orgasm with 
this strange, cruel man. 

He turned to her and said, "You were wonderful..." 

She couldn't turn to face him, knowing that she was blushing from 
embarrassment, yet completely fulfilled. 

"One thing puzzles me, however," he continued. "You don't seem like the type 
to go rooting through someone else's drawers for money or jewelry. Just 
exactly what were you looking for." His voice was no longer tender. He had 
had her body, he was satisfied and now he wanted to get down to business. 

"Nothing...really nothing...I was just drunk..." she stammered, but she knew 
that the quiver in her voice was betraying her. She couldn't look him in the 
eye and deny that she was looking for something else...something else much 
more valuable to him. 

He got up from the bed, dressed and walked to the door, glaring back at her. 

"I'll have to think about this for awhile," he growled and walked out into 
the other room, closing the door behind him. 

She lay on the bed for some time, tears streaming down her face. Her whole 
plan had been frustrated and now he was wise to what she was after, of that 
she was sure. 

About an hour later, she went into the bathroom, washed and got dressed, 
trying to pin the remains of her dress closely around her. When she tried 
the door of the bedroom to go outside it was locked. 

"LOCKED." she said out loud. "Oh my God...He's not going to let me go!" 

"Nick," she screamed, but she was answered only by a pregnant silence and 
then a cruel, wicked laugh from the other side of the door. She slumped back 
onto the bed in stark realization that she was being held a prisoner. 

 CHAPTER 5 

Bill Carpenter arrived in Reno on the six a.m. flight from San Francisco and 
took the airport limousine in to one of the hotels on the fringe of the 
gambling town. 

After he had checked in he spent almost three hours, and made about forty 
phone calls to various hotels and motels, before he finally found that his 
wife had registered at the New Dawn Dude Ranch. When the voice at the other 
end of the phone had answered with the name of the dude ranch, Bill had 
asked if Joan Carpenter was there. He had learned after about the tenth call 
to other motels that it was better to ask if she was in rather than if she'd 
registered. Each time he'd asked if someone had registered the clerk had 
either been reluctant to give out the information or had refused altogether. 

The strange and disturbing thing with the last call had been that the person 
who had answered had mistaken him for someone else. Bill sat now in his 
hotel room and tried to reconstruct the whole conversation. He remembered 
the man's voice as he answered.. . 

"New Dawn Dude Ranch," the man had said in a slow drawling voice. 

"Hi, is Joan Carpenter in?" Bill remembered that he had tried to sound as 
casual as possible so that the man wouldn't be alarmed and possibly try to 
hide something. 

"No, she sure ain't, Mr. Castle. An' we checked her room and don't look like 
she came back at all last night." The man had paused, and then added: "It 
won't do any good to keep calling, Mr. Castle. I tol' you we'd call you as 
soon as anything turns up." 

It was then that Bill's sudden alarmed gasp had made the man suspicious. 

"Hey! This ain't Emmett Castle! Who is this?" 

Bill told him then who he was but the man had clammed up and wouldn't say 
any more, only that Joan wasn't there... 

Emmett Castle. It was the only clue that he had, the only clue to something 
that had happened to Joan. It was obvious that this man Emmelt Castle had 
called several times and that he was worried about Joan. What could it mean? 
What could have happened? 

Bill sat there for several minutes trying to plan some course of action. He 
could go out to the dude ranch but it didn't sound if he'd be able to find 
out very much. If only he knew who this Castle character was. 

The phone book! 

It only took him a few seconds to find the listing in the phone book, and 
his hands trembled slightly as he dialed it. He had no idea what the 
connection might be between Joan and Castle-and then he thought ironically 
that there might even be someone else! After all, she hadn't even come home 
the night before. 

After he finally got through the secretary the conversation with Emmett 
Castle only took a few minutes. 

It was shortly after four in the afternoon when Bill reached Castle's 
office. The private investigator hadn't wanted to go into the situation on 
the phone-he'd only told Bill that there was a possibility that Joan might 
be in some kind of trouble and had asked him to come over to the office as 
quickly as he could. 

At first, when Castle told Bill what he had asked Joan to do, Bill had 
wanted to hit him-but then he had realized that the man hadn't really 
expected anything to happen. In fact, Emmett Castle seemed to be almost as 
upset as Bill himself. 

Castle briefed him on everything that had happened and told him where Nick 
Casetti's lodge was located, and then he added: 

"Bill, listen this guy is no one to play with. I'm not sure you should even 
be going over there." Then he saw the expression on Bill's face and knew 
there was no way to dissuade him, and continued: 

"Okay, I realize I can't stop you, but we have to have some sort of plan in 
case there's any trouble," he paused, "alright, here's what we'll do. While 
you're over at Casetti's, I'll go out to the dude ranch and see if I can 
find out anything else." He stopped and checked his watch. "Bill, it's about 
twelve-twenty now. If I don't hear from you by, say three o'clock, I'll call 
the cops and we'll get out there immediately. That alright with you?" 

Bill nodded in assent and got up to leave. Then on impulse he turned back to 
the investigator. 

"Emmett, I don't know what I'm going to run into out there, or how things 
are going to work out between Joan and me but I want to thank you for 
everything you're doing." They shook hands, and though Bill was quite a bit 
bigger than Castle he found a lot of assurance in the man's strength and 
decisiveness. 

Moments later his foot pressed the accelerator harder as he passed the 
outskirts of town and headed for Nick Casetti's North Shore lodge. 

* * * 

Joan Carpenter stirred restlessly in the huge king-sized bed, her head 
buried in the tear-stained pillow to shut out the sound of her convulsive 
sobbing. She hadn't slept at all during the night, had only lain there in 
the frightening darkness and cried as her body shook with the pain of her 
brutal ravishment and the agony of her tortured memories. 

It can't be! It can't be true, she thought. Oh my God! Please...please make 
it all just a horrible dream. Please let me wake up and find that none of 
this has happened! 

Suddenly, she heard a sound. There was someone opening the door! She turned, 
to beg Nick to let her go. She waited for him to open the doorshe'd promise 
him anything if he'd just let her go. Oh God. Please! 

"Get up!" the man told her harshly. 

"Nick...I...I..." Then her eyes cleared as she wiped the tears away. It 
wasn't Nick Casetti, but some other man she had never seen before. 

"Get up, kid. The Boss wants to see you." His deep voice rumbled menacingly 
across the room to her as he folded his arms and waited. 

Joan shrank back against the pillows and pulled the covers up like a flimsy 
suit of armor to protect her from the huge man that stared so lecherously 
down at her nakedness. 

"Get up, I said! The Boss ain't got no time to wait for some cunt." He 
crossed the room, lightly and quickly for so big a man, and ripped the 
covers from her. 

He laughed viciously as she jerked her legs up and tried to cover her nude 
body and then grabbed her brutally by the ankle and yanked her until she 
slid right off the end of the bed and fell sprawled at his feet. 

She cowered beneath him, crying and trying to cover her head from the 
further blows that she expected any minute. 

"No...no...please don't. I can't stand it...Don't hurt me ANYMORE!" 

"I ain't gonna' hurt you, kid...not unless you give me some kinda trouble. 
NOW GET UP!" He chuckled as he leered down at her cringing body. She looked 
like a cowering animal, but the most beautiful animal he'd ever seen. Her 
skin glistened like soft silk in the sunlight that streamed into the room 
and her frightened trembling only excited him more. 

Man, I'd like to get some of that, he thought, and then realized that he'd 
better get her down to Nick before he got pushed out of shape. Who knows, he 
laughed inwardly, Nick may turn her over to me yet. 

He grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet. 

"Please...let me get dressed...I'll go with you." 

"Dressed?" He laughed as if it was some sort of great joke. "Baby, you ARE 
dressed! Just like he wants you." 

He pulled her stumbling behind him as he led her to the door. 

She struggled violently. I can't go down there like this! I can't! She 
tugged helplessly, pushing with her other hand, trying to get her wrist out 
of his painful grasp. 

He growled, and turning quickly he slapped her viciously with the back of 
his hand, and knocked her to her knees. 

"Don't play, kid! Or I'm gonna have to hurt you!" He jerked her back up 
again and pulled her through the door. 

Nick Casetti lounged back in the big leather chair as Joan's captor pushed 
her violently through the door into the den. As she caught her balance, he 
nne and smiled thinly at her-in the black silk robe he looked like a king 
cobra poised to strike. 

"Bruno, take it easy. We don't want to bruise such a lovely package, do we?" 
He laughed softly and meanly. "Or should I say, such a lovely spy?" 

He motioned to the man, Bruno, to leave the room and as the door closed 
again, he looked up at Joan through his unblinking eyes and smiled. 

"Sit down, baby, you and I have a little to talk about." 

"Please, Nick...let me go. I swear I won't say a word to anybody...please, I 
swear!" She pleaded with him, and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she 
tried to cover her nakedness with her arms. 

"Happened? Baby, nothing DID happen. Do you really think anyone will believe 
that I raped you?" He laughed again at her. "You're the one that wanted to 
come to my place!" He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Yeah, 
you're the one that wanted to come here...and we hardly knew each other." 

"Al-alright, Nick...see, I can't do you any harm. Won't you please let me 
go?" The pleading words caught in her throat as she spoke, and her body 
shook with convulsive sobs... 

"SHUT UP!" The naked violence in his voice stopped her cries like a pair of 
scissors snipping a recording tape. 

"There's another little matter I'd like to talk to you about." The menace in 
his words rode just below the surface like a stalking barracuda. 

"I couldn't figure why you were snooping around my dresser last night so I 
started putting a few things together-like why you were so anxious to come 
to my place, and the way you so conveniently ended up in my bedroom when you 
were supposed to be going to the bathroom." His voice hardened as if his ego 
had been threatened. "It was pretty obvious from the way you fought me that 
you didn't come over here to go to bed with me, so that left only one 
reason-you had to be looking for something." 

She sat trembling, not saying a word. The realization that he'd found her 
out, that everything had failed, had sobered her completely. The tears had 
stopped and she'd even forgotten that she was sitting before him totally 
nude. 

"I'd never met you before," he continued, "so it couldn't have been anything 
you wanted personally." He paused. 

"WHO HIRED YOU?" His fist slammed against the edge of the desk. "Who sent 
you over here...and what did they want?" He half rose in his chair and 
leaned toward her, his eyes glinting like black beads of obsidian. 

"It was that prick, Castle, wasn't it? That stupid bastard thought you could 
find some little pieces of film for his client, didn't he?" He saw her eyes 
widen at Castle's mention, and chuckled. "So, it was Castle, huh? Well, 
baby, you made a sad decision when you listened to that punk and tried to go 
up against Nick Casetti!" 

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

"Yeah, what is it?" he shouted, annoyed at the intrusion. 

"Me, Bruno, I found a surprise for you, Boss." 

"Stay there, I'll be right out." He got up and turned to Joan. "Don't go 
anywhere, baby." He smiled menacingly. "You and me got a little more talking 
to do." 

He walked past her and closed the heavy door to the den behind him. Casetti 
was outside several minutes and while he was gone Joan tried frantically to 
think of some way to get away from him but she knew that it was virtually 
impossible. The place was just too well guarded. 

Suddenly, the door reopened and he came back into the room. Joan glanced 
fearfully up at him and was shaken by the strange expression on his face. 
The menacing hardness was gone and had been replaced with an almost joyous 
expression. A strange look of eager anticipation, like a cat looking at the 
struggling occupants of a fallen fishbowl. 

"Baby, my boys found a strange prowler on the grounds," he chuckled 
threateningly, "an acquaintance of yours." 

Her tortured mind whirled as she tried to absorb the meaning of his words. 
An acquaintance? Emmett Castle! If it wasn't Mr. Castle, who could it be? 
But her questioning thoughts were broken as Nick Casetti called out to the 
closed door. 

"Bring 'em in, boys...we're going to have a reunion!" 

The door swung open, and she sat motionless almost afraid to turn around and 
face the man she had been working for. There was a crashing sound as someone 
was thrust violently into the room, and then she heard him.. . 

"JOAN!" 

She spun around, trying to comprehend the familiar voice. 

"Joan, what have they done to you! My God! You bastards!" her husband's 
voice shrieked as he saw her crouching there nude. "You bastards!" He tried 
frantically to break away from Bruno's grip and rush Nick Casetti, but the 
other man in the doorway grabbed him from behind and he was only able to 
strain helplessly as his wife's tormented eyes stared up at him. 

"Oh, Bill...No!...NO! NO! NO! NO!...Ohhhhhh...Bill!...please, Bill, get me 
out of here...GET ME OUT OF HERE." She screamed wildly, trying to reach her 
husband's arms, but the man at the door pushed her cruelly back onto the 
couch. 

"Baby," came the snarling voice of Nick Casetti, "I'm afraid Sir Galahad 
here ain't gonna get you outta nowhere!" 

He motioned to the two men holding Bill. "Tie him to that chair over there." 
Then he turned back to Joan. "Baby, you're going to provide a little 
entertainment for your hubby," and he laughed as he saw the horrified 
expression in her eyes. 

"You rotten son of a bitch!" Before Bill could say any more Bruno's fist had 
smashed into his mouth, sending a spray of blood onto his shirt. 

"Gag him!" Casetti said, and then turned back to Joan. "Yeah, you and I are 
going to do a little bit of playing." He looked at the struggling man 
strapped into the chair. "Your wife made a serious mistake, Mr. Carpenter. 
She tried to play me for a sucker, an' I'm going to have to teach her a 
lesson." He laughed quietly. "Why don't you just sit back and relax, 
Carpenter. You might enjoy this!" 

He waved the two men over to the couch where the pale, trembling girl was 
crying softly. "Get her off that couch, boys, and open it up into a bed." 

One of them pulled her to her feet and held her to the side while the other 
reached down and unfolded the couch until it opened into a large double bed. 

"Get her on there. On her knees, with her ass facing me!" 

The two men grinned expectantly as they threw the crying girl onto the bed. 
She struggled frantically to get away but they grabbed her arms and squeezed 
them even harder until a sobbing cry of agony broke loose from her throat. 

Shaking with blinding rage as he sat pinned in the chair, Bill's eyes 
flashed wildly above the white handkerchief that gagged him and glistening 
beads of helpless sweat poured in dribbling rivulets down his face. 

Bruno and the other man brutally threw the girl onto her stomach and then 
pulled her hips up until the quivering nakedness of her buttocks waved high 
in the air completely exposed to everyone in the room. 

"Jack, get on the bed and hold her...hold her tight!" Casetti sat back in 
the chair with the same contemptuous smile on his face as one of the men 
kneeled down on the bed and pressed her head down tight into the softness of 
the mattress. She struggled helplessly against his weight, small mewling 
cries of fear and pain drifting piteously from her open mouth. 

"Bruno...use your belt." 

The huge man looked down, grinning, at the full ivory roundness of the 
girl's buttocks, at the exposed, shadowed crevice between them and then he 
unbuckled the thin black leather belt around his waist and slipped it from 
his trousers. He wrapped the end twice around his hand and then he swished 
the leather through the air, smiling at the whistling sound it made. Then he 
raised both hands and held the full length in front of his face. His lips 
pulled back from his teeth in a snarling grin, and he lashed the belt down 
across her white, quivering buttocks. 

She screamed as her back arched and her limbs dragged against the pinioning 
hands. A thin red welt appeared across the soft roundness of her buttocks. 
It cut the smooth, white ovals almost completely in half with a long red 
weal, making a dark cross form over the quivering cleavage. 

Again the big man grinned as he brought the belt down across the terrified 
girl's ass. He could almost sense it sinking into the firm flesh. She 
uttered an agonizing sob as her face and full hanging breasts ground in pain 
into the bed. 

She screamed over and over in helpless agony, but it didn't seem to satisfy 
him and with a grimace of fury he raised the thin leather band and brought 
it down again and again across her squirming bottom and thighs until they 
were a mass of dark red-streaked weals and she had gone limp, fainting from 
the pain of the depraved whipping she had just endured. 

Nick Casetti was leaning forward tensely over his desk, his eyes wild and 
unfocused. The sight of the beating had aroused him into an orgiastic 
frenzy, and he rose from his chair and untied his robe. 

Then he seemed to calm down for a minute as he turned and grinned at Joan's 
husband who struggled helplessly in the chair. He nodded to the two men to 
try to revive the unconscious girl and then stood and watched them, his robe 
open and parted by his monstrous, swollen penis. The huge cudgel jutted out 
from his loins like the raised third leg of a tripod, wavering slightly, and 
it was possible to see the veins pulsing beneath the skin. 

There was a soft, agonized moan from the couch as the girl began to regain 
consciousness, and Nick Casetti grinned lewdly as he realized that soon she 
would be completely awake and at his mercy. 

He walked over and lifted her head by her long hair and watched the wakening 
tears overflowing her eyes and streaking her cheeks. 

"Pull her back up like she was before," he demanded, and laughed as he 
added: "I want that nice, soft, white ass in just the right position!" He 
grinned triumphantly back at Bill. 

"And, hold her head up so that he can see her." 

Jack, the man who was pinning her arms with his knees, held and turned her 
head until her eyes looked straight into her husband's. She stared almost 
sightlessly, and her eyes held his with a desperate horrified expression as 
if she couldn't believe these things that were happening to her, pleading 
with him to save her from the horrible ravishment she knew was momentarily 
coming. 

Nick Casetti stripped off his robe, revealing a slim, muscular olive-skinned 
body. His muscles flexed as he moved toward the helplessly pinned girl and 
his huge, throbbing shaft swung like the boom of a great loading crane. 

He reached her and put his hands on her buttocks and held them there for a 
moment like a blind man judging something by his sense of touch. 

"Soft and smooth like silk," he said, and turned back to Bill as if for 
agreement. 

He spread them with his thumbs, pulling the soft, resilient cheeks apart and 
gazing into the crevice his touch had revealed. He studied the puckered 
flesh of her anus, caressing it with his fingertips. He probed at it lightly 
with one finger, completely unheeding her piteous moans, and then ran his 
hand further down until it nestled in the very edge of her exposed cunt. He 
held his fingers almost still, barely and only lightly running them across 
the yielding hair-lined lips, and grinned back at the smiling faces of the 
two men with him. 

He moved his hand slowly back to the wrinkled anal opening and then, 
standing casually as though he were admiring a painting in a museum, he 
again began to delve his fingers into the softness of her anus. She squirmed 
painfully beneath his touch but her movements only succeeded in grinding his 
finger deeper into her. 

Casetti just chuckled softly, turning again to smile at the man struggling 
in the chair in the corner and stroking his great pulsating penis fondly 
with his free hand. When he'd finally buried one finger to its hilt in the 
sobbing girl's quivering rectum he withdrew it slightly to allow himself to 
insert another finger next to it and then he began to dig into her with both 
of them, spreading and stretching the tiny hole as the girl whimpered 
beneath him in misery and pain. 

All the while he just leaned back studying the movements of his delving hand 
almost unconcernedly. 

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and his other hand from his swollen penis, 
and then with both hands began to again knead at the silken softness of her 
buttocks molding them like soft plastic clay, and spreading them wider apart 
with each massaging movement. Holding the trembling cheeks with his fingers 
outspread, he inserted the tips of his thumbs at the outer edges of the 
tiny, red opening of her rectum and began stretching it with increasing 
pressure... 

The tortured girl struggled helplessly in the grasp of the two men, her eyes 
wide and pleading, rimmed with tears, and her back and bottom still striped 
from the cruel whipping she had received moments before. 

Then, without warning, her lewdly grinning tormentor moved forward 
suddenly-his prick a rock-hard javelin-and pushed at her tiny, puckered anus 
with the immense swollen head of his cock. 

She let out an abrupt agonized scream just as it jammed and stuck, unable to 
penetrate the tiny hole. 

"Push her back hard against me!" Cassetti said to the man, Jack. 

Roughly the man shoved the crying girl back at the stiff prick, pushing at 
her shoulders and laughing aloud at her soft, choked moans. 

The irresistible wall of the little, red aperture met the immovable object 
of Casetti's rigid, pulsing shaft. And the irresistible wall gave way. 

The girl uttered a sudden shriek and the cords in Casetti's neck strained as 
her anus oozed painfully over the swollen glans of his penis. Her face was 
contorted with pain and humiliation and her eyes looking helplessly into her 
husband's, closed shamefully under long wet lashes. Casetti stood almost 
still, barely jerking his prick into her with very little effort, leaving 
all the work to the two men. It was they who held the girl, manipulated her 
body like a puppet, pushing her back to be impaled on his thick shaft, and 
then pulling her forward again. 

A scream escaped her lips, and her eyes opened for a second. They contained 
a look of utter degradation. Then she was silent, but her lips trembled 
uncontrollably as the tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Casetti moved into the girl almost impassively. Occasionally his lips opened 
and expelled breath, or he reached forward and stroked the girl's breasts as 
she bent in piteous subjugation before him. He ran his hands almost 
dancingly across her buttocks as the men carried her body forward and back 
to him for impalement. His prick moved tightly in the crease of her 
buttocks. Every time they pulled her forward, the inflamed anus was pulled 
outward with his withdrawing penis and then sank again inward as they moved 
her back. 

Her lips bled where she bit them; the blood mixed with the tears that had 
fallen to her soft, reddened lips. Her eyes had opened again and seemed to 
have glazed over. They had a hollow look, as if her mind had given way 
behind them. Her abdomen swelled and hollowed, and her lips continued to 
tremble. The slender strained muscles furrowed and rounded in her thighs, as 
the rough hands levered her onto the prick and pushed her down its full 
length and then hauled her back again so that her tightly clasping anus 
enclosed only the tip. 

"Move her around harder!" Casetti commanded. 

The men took her shoulders roughly and began to shove her harder, rotating 
her slightly-and Casetti stood still and tensed himself deep inside her 
until his massive weapon swelled even larger, stretching and probing around 
in the dark, rubbery well of her rectum. The girl groaned. Feeling came back 
into her eyes. Feeling and agonizing pain. She looked pleadingly and 
hopelessly at Bill, but he was bound powerless in the corner and could do no 
more than close his eyes and try to shut the sounds of her cries out of his 
tortured mind. She cried again and again as her body was ravaged, the sobs 
deep in her throat as the shameless sodomy continued. 

Casetti still had no expression except for the jut of his jaw, the 
withdrawal of his lips from his teeth, Occasionally he would turn around and 
his hard, cold eyes penetrated the very depth of Bill's mind. 

The girl suddenly began to weep solidly. The tears flooded from her eyes, 
ran down her face and dripped from her chin onto her breasts. 

Abruptly, Casetti stiffened. He tensed forward, and his eyes left Bill's and 
dilated, fixed downward on the girl's quivering white buttocks and his own 
flesh as it appeared and disappeared deep down in the tight, clasping hole. 
Then he gave a sudden hoarse cry, thrust several quicker thrusts, and came 
inside the girl's pain-wracked rectum. He flooded his sperm into her soft, 
dark depths and then his legs trembled as he slowly began to pull himself 
away from the girl. 

The two men helped him, pulling the girl forward and letting her collapse, 
softly moaning onto the bed. 

Casetti stood silent for a moment as if he was trying to regain his 
composure, and then he straightened and turned triumphantly to the man 
straining violently in the chair. 

"like that better than a stag movie, Mr. Carpenter?" he said, and broke into 
uproarious laughter at what he considered to be a very funny joke. 

The enraged husband struggled frantically at the cords that bound him, and 
then by scraping his chin roughly against his shoulder he was able to pull 
the gag down far enough to speak. 

"You filthy, rotten bastard! I'll kill you...I'LL KILL YOU!" Before he could 
continue, Casetti had crossed the room in what seemed to be a single leap 
and his fist crashed thunderously against Bill Carpenter's jaw, overturning 
the chair and the man bound into it. Then, grabbing him by his lapels and 
with one great effort, he righted the chair and the man in it. Twice, almost 
like the shots from a rifle, his hand cracked across the stunned man's face. 
He moved quickly behind the pinioned man and brutally retied the gag so 
tightly that the flesh of the man's face was painfully pinched against the 
taut cloth. 

"Bruno!" he shouted angrily. 

The heavy-set man at the side of the bed turned immediately, almost snapping 
to attention. 

"Bruno, Carpenter here don't like the way we're treating his little wife." 
He chuckled menacingly. "Why don't you give it a try, and see if maybe you 
can't please him!" 

The huge man's flashing smile crackled across his face immediately, turning 
into a strange lewd smirk as he leered down at the trembling girl. Goddam! 
It had happened! The Boss had turned that lovely little piece over to him! 

"Hey, Boss. Alright! 'll see if I can't stretch that little pussy open a 
little wider!" He started frenetically to strip off his clothes as if he 
were afraid Casetti might change his mind. 

In a moment he stood towering over the cowering girl, his great throbbing 
cock jutting proudly out at a forty-five degree angle. He leaned forward and 
ran his huge rough hands over the still-red weals on the girl's quivering 
back and then looked at the other man who still remained on the bed. 

"Jack, flip this broad over on her back and grab her ankles. Man, I can't 
wait to get at that pretty little pussy!" 

The other man, looking a little disgruntled at being left out, did what he 
was told. But his anger made him grip her cruelly as he turned the sobbing 
girl over and grabbed her legs. He wrenched them fiercely back toward him 
until she was rolled backward almost into a fleshy human ball, her legs high 
in the air and her buttocks and the scarlet lips of her naked vagina were 
completely exposed to the leering eyes of Bruno and Casetti.. . 

Bruno stroked his huge, swollen shaft meditatively as he stared down at the 
helplessly quivering cuntal opening below him. Already, the massive head of 
his prick was glistening with escaping seminal fluid, and it seemed to swell 
and deflate like a living animal. 

Suddenly, with a roar like a ravenous beast, he bent his knees slightly and 
plunging forward, drove the great shaft deep into the beckoning, wet well of 
the girl's cunt.. . 

She let out a piercing scream as the lusting man drove deeper and deeper 
into her recoiling flesh. Again and again he pounded into her.. . 

Casetti and the man straining in the chair had a clear view of the massive 
whitened shaft appearing and disappearing, wet and glistening, again and 
again into Joan Carpenter's ravaged body-each pummeling thrust bringing 
another escaping painful moan from her open, contorted lips. 

With each evading movement of her straining hips he plunged deeper into the 
hot, wet pussy-pounding into her until his tremendous, pulsing prick pounded 
against the soft, firmness of her cervix hidden so far down in the softness 
of her body.. . 

It seemed to go on and on. 

The whole area between Bruno's legs was a hot, wet blaze-a liquid fire, like 
fiery lava or molten metal. Over and over he rammed his great thickness into 
her. 

Bill watched helplessly as the roaring beast of a man ravaged his wife. His 
mind spun in horror as he tried to imagine the terror and pain Joan must be 
feeling. The skin of his wrists and ankles was torn and bleeding in small 
droplets as he tried ineffectually to break loose from the ropes that held 
him. 

Then he saw his wife's tormentor shudder visibly and begin to straighten as 
he reached his orgasm. He saw the man's body jerk again and again as he 
poured torrent after torrent of burning, white liquid deep down into his 
wife's writhing body. 

 CHAPTER 6 

Bill Carpenter sat almost still in the chair in the bedroom. His fists 
clenched and unclenched as he tried to control his quivering rage. His wife 
lay on the bed, still unconscious from the tortuous ravaging and still 
striped with welts from the vicious whipping. 

He watched her and felt the hot tears welling in his eyes each time her body 
shook convulsively from the pain of the cruel treatment she had received. 
Every word, every action that had occurred in the den was burned indelibly 
in his mind...carved into his brain with agonizing and startling clarity. He 
knew that he would never be able to rest inside until he had found some way 
to repay 

Casetti and his henchmen for what they had done to his wife. 

After Bruno had finished with her, Joan had fainted, and much to the other 
man's disappointment, they had been unable to revive her. They'd slapped 
Bill around a little more, but the pain that he'd felt watching the vicious 
rape of his wife had completely blocked out any other senses, and he'd been 
able to feel almost nothing as they knocked him around. 

Then, he'd been dragged back to this room, while Bruno had carried the 
helpless, unconscious form of his wife, and they'd been locked in again. 
Bill had seen from the look on the other man's face, Jack, that it wouldn't 
be very long before they'd return-probably for Jack to take his lusting turn 
on the ravaged girl. 

Bill himself had been almost unconscious when they brought him to the room 
and they'd left him untied. Probably because they either felt he was too 
weak to do them any harm, or because they were so confident of their 
invulnerability that they weren't even worried about him. One thing had been 
totally clear to Bill. Casetti couldn't let them leave alive, not after what 
they'd done to Joan-and with him as a witness! 

He struggled painfully out of the chair. He had to stand still for a moment 
and try to get the strength back into his legs before he could walk. Then, 
trying to be as quiet as possible because he was sure Casetti had left one 
of the two men posted outside the door, he began to try the windows in the 
room to see if they offered any possibility of escape. 

There was none. They were locked, and through the shutters Bill could see 
iron bars blocking any exit. 

He tried the door, looking through the keyhole, but couldn't see anyone. 
Then, just before he touched it and tried to open it, he knelt down and with 
his face pressed close to the floor he could see the shadow of someone's 
feet outside. So they had left someone to guard the door! 

Suddenly, he heard a groan from the bed as Joan started to come around. He 
ran quickly to her side and pressed his hand gently across her mouth. She 
jerked in fright, her eyes wide and piteously scared, until she realized who 
he was. He put a finger across his lips to indicate silence, and then held 
her tenderly as she wept quietly and convulsively against his shoulder. 

Finally, she began to calm down until he felt that she was conscious enough 
to be aware of what he had to tell her. He whispered softly to her for 
several minutes, seeing her nod as the tears still streamed down her cheeks. 

When he had finished outlining his plan, he kissed her tenderly on her 
trembling lips and tried to smile to assure that nothing would go wrong. He 
wished as he searched through the room that he himself really was confident 
that everything would work out the way he'd planned. But, he knew there was 
no choice! There was no doubt that Casetti would have to get rid of them, 
and there was no way of knowing how much time they had left. It had to be 
now! 

Finally, by the fireplace he found a heavy shovel used for ashes and he 
picked it up noiselessly and stepped behind the door-and nodded to the 
sobbing girl on the bed. 

"YOU'VE KILLED HIM!" She screamed at the top of her voice. "YOU'VE KILLED 
BILL...HE'S DEAD!...HE'S DEAD!" She kept screaming over and over again...and 
then Bill heard a key being inserted in the lock from the other side of the 
door. 

Just as he had hoped, the man guarding them feared nothing from the naked 
girl, and thinking Bill was dead or unconscious, he hadn't worried about 
opening the door. 

It opened, and the guard stepped in with his gun in his hand, and saw the 
screaming girl pointing to an empty chair. He saw the chair and realized 
he'd been tricked, and spun around-just in time to catch the full force of 
the shovel across his neck. He dropped soundlessly, dead before he hit the 
floor. The shovel had crushed his throat and broken his spine. 

Bill stepped over the body, wishing that it had been Bruno instead of the 
other man, and closed the door again. He picked up the gun that had 
slithered from the man's lifeless grip-and looking at it was thankful that 
he'd had considerable experience with a .45 in Korea. 

He helped Joan up from the bed. She turned away from the bloody form on the 
floor with a shudder and trembled as he helped her into a robe from the 
closet. 

"Joan...darling, we have to be very quiet." He whispered to her with as much 
assurance as he could muster, and led her to the door. "I don't know where 
Casetti or the other men are-but don't worry, I'll get you out of here." 

She followed him soundlessly down the hall. The house was silent except for 
the click as he cocked the action of the revolver. They were just passing 
the door to the den, and heading for the front door, when Bill froze in 
front of her and pushed her back against the wall. 

"Bruno, get over there and check on those two. Jack should have been..." 
Casetti's voice broke the silence. 

The door opened. 

Interrupting the last of Casetti's words, Bill hit Bruno with his shoulder 
and knocked him backward into the den-the blasts from his pistol thundering 
through the house. All three shots caught the big man high in the chest and 
tossed him like a rag doll against the far side of the room... 

Casetti scrabbled frantically for the drawer of his desk for a second before 
he realized that it was useless. Then he straightened with the same strange, 
sardonic smile and faced Bill. 

"I've underestimated you, Carpenter. Congratulations." His voice was cool, 
sounding almost unconcerned-and it was then that Joan realized that the man 
had to be demented. His calmness was so unnatural that he seemed inhuman. 

"You're a dead man, Casetti," Bill said softly. "Joan," he said over his 
shoulder, "get out of here, I don't want you to see this." 

She started to move back. 

"Stay there, Joan!" Another voice behind them spoke manacingly. "Drop your 
gun, Mr. Carpenter, or your wife is the one who'll be dead." 

Joan spun at the sound of the woman's voice. 

"CELIA!" 

Casetti laughed, as Bill's gun hit the floor. "Yes, it's Celia." He chuckled 
again as he looked at the frustration on Bill's face. "You shouldn't feel as 
if you've accomplished nothing, Mr. Carpenter. Actually you've done me quite 
a favor." He reached into his desk and pulled a gun from the drawer, and 
leveled it at Joan and Bill. 

"Why doesn't everyone sit down?" He motioned with the gun. "Quite a favor, 
Carpenter. You took care of Bruno, and also, I would assume Jack...you saved 
me from having to do the job myself." He nodded at Celia Johnson. "You see, 
Celia and I are leaving-and we really couldn't afford to have any witnesses 
to some of our business propositions, not even Jack or Bruno!" 

Then Celia turned to Joan. 

"Speaking of witnesses, Dear, I owe you an apology. I thought you had been 
with Joe the other night, and I was the one who sent Rich over to see you. 
It was a silly fit of pique, I'll admit, and when I found out I had been 
mistaken I had to take care of Rich." She laughed harshly. "That poor fat 
man! It'll be a long time before they find his body, if the buzzards and 
coyotes don't take care of that first." 

Joan sat speechless as she realized what the woman had done. She'd sent Rich 
to rape her and then killed him! It couldn't be true, she had seemed so 
nice! 

"Well, enough of this talk," Casetti said as he stepped around from behind 
the desk. And then he turned back to Celia Johnson, and added harshly: "And 
you, I'll talk to you later about this thing with Joe and Rich!" 

Celia Johnson jumped up. 

"What do you mean, you'll talk to me later!" The woman shouted. "Without me, 
you'd still be a cheap, greasy gambler! Who do you think brought you where 
you are?" She laughed coldly. "If I hadn't walked in just now, you'd be 
dead!" 

Casetti looked over at her, his eyes black and unblinking. 

"Yes, that's possible," he said calmly. "But, as you can see, I'm not." And 
shot her. 

The room rocked with the suddenness of the acrid blast, and the woman 
bounced lifeless against the edge of the couch before she crumpled to the 
floor, the dark red stain already spreading across the front of her blouse. 

A thin smile of satisfaction momentarily crossed Nick Casetti's face as he 
backed toward the door of the den. "One less witness, and one less 
loudmouth," he said as he stepped into the doorway. 

Joan fell, almost fainting into Bill's arms, sobbing uncontrollably with her 
head buried against his shoulder...and he held her as he waited for what he 
knew was coming... 

"You two move back, against the wall," the man in the doorway said softly. 
"I have to admire you, Carpenter. You tried." Then he added, almost 
regretfully: "You realize I have no choice," and raised the gun. 

In an instant, no more than seconds, that seemed like an eternity Bill felt 
Joan trembling against him and his mind fought for the right words to say to 
her. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, and so little time... 

"Joan, I love you..." 

Then the room rocked with the shattering blasts of two quick shots. 

EPILOGUE 

The reverberating echo of the shots slowly faded and Bill Carpenter stared, 
stunned and uncomprehending, at the grotesque expression on Nick Casetti's 
face. The dead weight of his wife hung in his arms as she collapsed against 
him and then the silence in the room was broken as Casetti fell heavily to 
the floor. 

Emmett Castle stood in the doorway, over the gambler's body, with a smile on 
his face as he replaced his revolver in his shoulder holster. Then Bill saw 
the other men, the policemen, behind him and it slowly began to dawn on him 
what had happened. 

Joan! She sagged limply in his arms and Emmett Castle must have noticed the 
sudden expression of terror on Bill's face. 

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "she's only fainted" and as he spoke Bill felt 
Joan stir in his arms. He picked her up and carried her over to the couch, 
then he turned back to Emmett Castle. 

"Emmett...I...I don't know what to say...how to thank you," he stammered. 
"He was going to shoot us." Bill paused, and grinned. "In fact, I thought he 
had!" 

A policeman had briefly examined the bodies of Bruno, Celia Johnson, and 
Casetti and Castle had to step out of his way before he turned to Bill. 

"There's nothing to thank me for, Bill, you did me a favor by giving me an 
excuse to shoot that bastard. All I did was wait, and when I didn't hear 
from you I knew something had gone wrong and called the cops-then I led them 
ovei here." He stopped to drag on his cigarette. "We heard the shots 
outside, and I got in just in time to hear Casetti..." He was interrupted by 
a moan from the couch, then he continued. 

"Bill, Joan's coming around. Why don't you get her out of this mess and take 
her outside for some fresh air? I'm going to take a look around for some 
things I'd rather the police didn't find," he said softly and clapped Bill 
on the shoulder and left the room. 

Bill turned to see Joan moving restlessly on the couch and her eyes opened 
as she gave a sudden cry of fright. He took her in his arms, and in a few 
seconds her trembling ceased. 

"Bill...w-what happened...I don't understand...I thought he was going to..." 
Her voice broke as she saw the bodies on the floor and the policemen 
preparing to cover them with dark rubber sheets. 

"Joan...everything is alright! Come on, darling, let me take you outside and 
I'll explain everything," Bill told her hoarsely. The realization that they 
really were still alive, and the shock of being so frightened just moments 
earlier was beginning to make him feel a little nauseous and he quickly 
pulled Joan to her feet and led her outside into the fresh afternoon air. 

He had just finished telling her how Emmett Castle had happened to show up 
with the police when Castle walked up with a grin on his face. 

He pulled them aside and said conspiratorially, "I got them!" 

They both stared at him, unable to comprehend what he meant. 

"Hey! I got them, the negatives!" He laughed and patted Joan on the 
shoulder. "I got to them before the cops started searching the house, and I 
have you to thank for it, Joan." 

Joan smiled weakly. "I'm glad you found them, but I don't think I'll ever go 
through something like this again-not for a million dollars!" And she looked 
up at Bill for assurance. 

He squeezed her and turned her around to face him. "Don't worry, darling, 
we're leaving on the first plane and I'm taking you home where you belong." 

Emmett Castle realized that they'd completely forgotten he was there, and he 
turned quietly and walked away-leaving the two of them oblivious to anything 
except their new-found happiness. 


THE END
