Soldier's Bride-Volume I
by Winston McElroy 


FOREWORD 

Thousands of young women are left alone every year by our servicemen on 
active duty. It's not a happy experience for any of these women, but for 
some it becomes unbearable. But it has been a problem of all societies 
throughout history, and will continue to be as long as there are wars. Most 
of these brides are strong enough to adjust to a life of separation, knowing 
that one day their husbands will return. 

But for others, perhaps left alone for the first time in their lives, it is 
a time of extreme vulnerability and weakness. It is just such a frightening 
period that Anne Hartley endures in (Soldier's Bride). Newly married, out on 
her own for the first time, Anne Hartley finds herself alone without a 
friend, surrounded by enemies. 

It is this period in a young woman's life that author McElroy has 
written-and of the human predators that prey on girls like Anne when they 
are most defenseless. 

No effort has been made to cover-up anything in Anne Hartley's story-the 
language used in every instance is as real as real-life, and as jarring and 
shattering as Anne's own plight. 

Perhaps, if just one serviceman leaving for overseas reads this book; or one 
housewife about to be left behind for the first time, then just perhaps one 
person can be rescued from the agonies and hardships endured by Anne 
Hartley. 

-THE PUBLISHERS 


CHAPTER I 

It had all seemed so easy at first-Bob would work for his brother's 
engineering firm, and Anne would find a job, and with the two of them 
saving, it would be a snap. Only it didn't work out that way. Exactly three 
months to the day after Bob dropped out of school to go to work, his 
induction notice arrived. The Army whisked Bob away, and Anne Hartley was 
left looking for a job in a town full of college wives with the same plans. 
She quickly discovered that the employers all wanted shorthand, typing and 
filing; and her two years of English, Philosophy and French were worthless. 
She probably could have scraped by on Bob's army pay, but finding a job and 
making it on her own had become almost an obsession for her. The job at 
Harrell's, selling retail cosmetics eight hours a day, was the only thing 
she could find. Apparently no one else wanted it, she told herself. 

The first two weeks were not so bad, at least there was some excitement and 
challenge to learning something new. But from then on, it was downhill all 
the way. At twenty-one, she was the youngest in the whole department by at 
least twenty years. But at least it was a job. And the $79.50 at the end of 
every week made it a little less unbearable. 

Bob's letters began to space themselves farther and farther apart, but Anne 
knew not to worry. After all, fighting in Vietnam was an around-the-clock 
job, and she knew that Bob was doing well to find any time to write at all. 
But still, his letters meant more to her than anything else, and she even 
devised a system for finding out if one had come while still at work. Nancy 
Shelby, her next door neighbor, would check Anne's mailbox around noon, and 
Anne could call on her afternoon break to get the all-important answer. Anne 
knew she was being silly, but she just couldn't stand the suspense of 
waiting all day, then rushing home to find only a stack of second-notice 
bills. The stuffy older woman laughed at her system, but it didn't bother 
Anne. As long as his letters kept coming, she could weather anything. 

"Miss ... Oh, Miss ... Excuse me." Anne was ten thousand miles away. 

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she apologized. "I must have been daydreaming. 
Could I help you?" 

"Yes," the woman began, "You have a package on lay-away for me. I would like 
to get it, please." 

"Certainly," replied Anne, "And what is your name?" 

"Home. H-o-r-n-e. Alice Home." 

Anne was back with the package in a few minutes. "Here we are, Mrs. Home. 
That'll be twenty-three forty-five with tax." 

The gray-haired lady smiled. "Here you are. I think that's the right 
change." Anne counted it out on the glass counter surface. "You know," 
continued the woman, "It's certainly nice to be waited on by such a pleasant 
young lady." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned over the counter." 

"Those old bags you work with haven't got a kind word for anybody." 

Anne only smiled. She was tempted to say "how right you are!" but thought 
better of it. "Thank you, Mrs. Home," she said, "I do try to be friendly. It 
gets a little difficult sometimes, but I keep trying." 

"You haven't been here very long? Going to college?" inquired Mrs. Home. 

Anne slipped the package into a larger bag. "No. I was, but now I'm waiting 
for my husband to come back from service. He's in the Army in Vietnam." 

Mrs. Home looked concerned. "Goodness, and at your age, too. Were you 
married long when your husband left?" 

"No," answered Anne. "Just a few months. 

Bob had planned to go back to school. He's only one year away from an 
engineering degree. But they wouldn't give him a deferment." Anne wondered 
why she was telling so much to a total stranger, but Alice Home had that 
sort of grand-motherly face that just begged to hear her troubles. There 
weren't any other customers at the counter, so Anne rambled on and on about 
their marriage, Bob's brother and his engineering business, and how much 
trouble she had had trying to find a job. 

"I know exactly how you feel," Mrs. Home said finally, "I sat out World War 
II right here in this city. My husband was gone for three years. So I can 
certainly understand your situation." 

"Three years!" exclaimed Anne. "How did you stand it?" 

Mrs. Home laughed. "Well, in those days, people suffered through a lot of 
things they thought impossible. When you're faced with a hard, cold reality 
like that, you just grit your teeth and make the best of it." 

"I suppose those days give you and your husband a lot to talk about on 
winter nights, huh ? " asked Anne. 

Mrs. Home looked almost reluctant to answer. "Well, we used to kid each 
other about the hard times. But Mr. Home died several years ago." 

Anne felt the hot crimson flooding her face. "Oh, ... I'm sorry ... I mean, 
I didn't know." 

Mrs. Home patted Anne's shoulder. "Don't be silly. How could you have known. 
And besides, that was a long time ago. That was just another impossible 
reality ... just like the war years." She bundled her package under her arm. 
"Listen, why don't we have lunch sometime. Just a couple of old gals without 
any menfolk. How about it?" 

Anne was delighted. "Of course, it sounds like fun." 

"Fine. I'll drop by some day before noon. What time do you go to lunch?" she 
asked. 

"Noon's fine, usually. Oh, you don't even know my name. I forgot to tell 
you!" 

Mrs. Home laughed. "I figured you would tell me sooner or later." 

"It's Anne. Anne Hartley. And I'll be looking forward to having lunch with 
you." 

Anne thought about Mrs. Home for the rest of the day. What a delightful 
lady, she was so friendly and warm. How much easier this job would be, 
thought Anne, if all my customers were like her. 

There was no letter that day, nor the next, and Anne's brief moments of 
cheerfulness with Mrs. Home were soon forgotten. Anne was beginning to dread 
going home each night. Home to that cold, empty apartment, dreary and 
threatening without Bob around. She had thought about moving in with another 
girl, but it seemed that everyone she knew either was married, or already 
had a room-mate. But she knew it would be better, at least there would be 
someone around to talk to. The worst part of all was climbing into that 
over-sized double bed, and sliding under the icy covers. She remembered how 
Bob would always snuggle up next to her, and keep her warm. It had become a 
part of their nightly routine, like brushing their teeth. Often she would 
wake up and be unable, in those few dizzy seconds between being asleep and 
being awake, to remember why Bob wasn't there. Then she would jar awake, and 
a little queasy knot would form in her stomach as she remembered that he was 
thousands of miles from her side. She had wondered if it would get easier to 
bear as the time slipped by, but now she knew. For her, at least, time 
erased nothing. Each day seemed to make the emptiness in her life more 
acute. 

She thought often of going home. That is, to her parents' home. But that was 
like running away, somehow. No, she told herself, I'll stick it out right 
here. It's ridiculous for me to be afraid. Bob's the one I should worry 
about, not myself. 

Her parents probably would have been glad to have her come and stay, but 
even if she thought it the best place to go, she knew that she could never 
feel completely at ease around them. There was still a tender wound 
there-they had tried everything to keep her from quitting school and getting 
married to Bob. Anne could never completely forget some of the awful things 
her father had said. How he accused her of letting them down, of spending a 
fortune for a year in college, and then throwing it all away. She remembered 
how he had called Bob a "ass and a deadbeat" for quitting school, how he had 
said that the Army would be good for him, maybe teach him about life. Those 
tense moments were not forgotten, not by Anne, and not by Bob. They had made 
the best of their situation after their marriage, but dinners and week-ends 
at Anne's parents' place were forced occasions at best. Finally, during the 
last month before he left, Bob had flatly refused to go at all. 

Bob's parents had offered to have her stay with them while he was away, but 
Anne knew that they were only making the offer because it was the right 
thing to do. They didn't have the room for another member of the family, 
Bob's younger brothers already filled the one bedroom, so the only place she 
could have slept there would have been the bedroom that Mr. and Mrs. Hartley 
occupied. So that was certainly out of the question. In fact, staying in the 
city was really the only serious choice open. She had been there for two 
years, so another one or two shouldn't be so difficult. But Anne had Bob 
before, and now she had no one. 

Anne was waiting on a customer when Mrs. Home walked in. But the customer 
could wait; here was a friend, or at least the closest thing to it. She 
didn't wait for the woman to speak. 

"How are you, Mrs. Horne!" Anne greeted, "It's so nice to see a friendly 
face. I thought you'd forgotten." 

She reached across and gave Ann a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. "Of 
course not, my dear. I've been looking forward to that lunch for days now." 

Anne was ecstatic. Just the chance to relieve the routine was cause for 
celebration. "Just wait here. I'll get rid of this customer, and we'll be on 
our way," Anne whispered. 

"Now don't do that," Mrs. Horne laughed, "Take your time with the customer. 
You don't want to lose your job, do you?" 

Anne leaned over the counter. "Just between you and me, it might be a 
blessing if they fired me." 

Anne was finishing her crab salad, and about to start on her steak when Mrs. 
Horne began to explain to her the real reason for lunch. 

"You know Anne, it wasn't easy for me after Arthur died. I found myself in 
the same situation you're in. Only mine was permanent. I couldn't get a job. 
No skills, they told me. So I got to thinking about a business of my own. 
Arthur always told me that the only real way to get ahead in this world is 
to have a business of your own..." 

"You were awfully brave to think about launching your own business at that 
point in your life," Anne acknowledged. 

"Oh it wasn't a matter of bravery. It was simply survival. Arthur never made 
a lot of money. And when he died, there were taxes and funeral expenses, and 
doctor bills. Pretty soon it was all gone. So I had to do something. I 
thought of a million dozen things I could start with the little money 
remaining-a restaurant, a bookstore, I always did like books, even a 
laundry. But nothing seemed right. Then it hit on just the right business." 

Anne was hanging on every word. "What was it?" 

"Well, I started thinking about all the lonely people in this world. Some 
that are only temporarily lonely, like you, and others, like I was then, who 
were permanently lonely-that is, without anyone. And I decided that if I 
could help these people, and make a little money for myself at the same 
time, that I would have the perfect business." 

"I don't understand. What kind of business does that?" Anne questioned. 

"Let me finish. I called it Alice's Introductions. At first it was mainly 
for people looking for permanent companionship. You know ... old maid 
schoolteachers, and retired sailors, people like that. I put together a lot 
of marriages that first year. Then it became something else. You know this 
is a big city, and there are hundreds, even thousands of out-of-towners 
staying here at any given time. Well, most of these people ... not just men, 
but women, too ... are decent, Christian folks. like salesmen here for a few 
days, or conventioneers here for a week. And they all have the same 
problem-companionship. Not anything dirty, mind you. Just someone to talk 
to, someone to show them around, have dinner with, maybe go dancing. You can 
remember how it is in a strange city, every place you go is full of 
laughing, happy people, and you feel like the only one alone. It can ruin a 
person's stay here." 

"Oh, I remember all right. Just last night I went to Ernest's for dinner. 
Thought I might as well treat myself to a night out. But I just didn't enjoy 
it. Not by myself, with no one to talk to." 

"That's it exactly," she continued. "So I began to toy with the idea of some 
way to help these people, too. I guess I was becoming somewhat of a 
do-gooder in my old age. It took a while to get the bugs out, but now it 
runs like clockwork. I have about a dozen girls, like yourself, pretty, 
well-bred, and good conversationalists. These girls act as "hostesses' for 
my clients-usually visiting business executives. Instead of giving them a 
guided tour in groups ... the sort of thing nobody really-likes ... I give 
them individual treatment. My girls show them around, have dinner, maybe a 
little dancing. You know, whatever. Just good, wholesome hospitality. And 
for this my girls earn twenty-five dollars per evening-as many evenings as 
they want to work. Of course, I make a little myself. Just enough to meet my 
needs." 

"Sounds interesting. Is there much demand for a service like this?" 

Mrs. Home finished her coffee, and replaced the demitasse cup in its saucer. 
"Demand? Oh, you wouldn't believe it. I could double my staff of girls, and 
still have to turn away business. I tell you, Anne, loneliness is a 
universal thing." 

"I just had no idea there was anything like this around. Do you advertise? 
Where do your clients come from?" she asked. 

Mrs. Horne looked a little hesitant, as if choosing her words. "Well, you 
probably wouldn't see any of my advertising. I have ads in convention 
bulletins, and around the airports, at hotels, you know, places where 
newcomers might be. The newspapers are a waste of money, for my kind of 
business, anyway. Strangers in town just don't read the local papers, unless 
they are looking for a job. Then they are planning to become residents, and 
don't need my services, anyway." She signalled for the waiter to remove the 
plates. "Would you care for dessert, Anne?" 

Anne leaned back in the thickly-padded chair and placed her hand on her 
stomach. "Oh, no thank you," she laughed, "I'm absolutely stuffed now." 

When the waiter was gone, she continued again. 

"I have to confess ... I've told you all of this for a reason. Not that I 
haven't enjoyed your company. I certainly have ... I told you all of this 
because I would like to offer you a job. On my staff. What do you say?" 

Anne could only stare with her jaw hung open. 

"Well, don't look so surprised, Anne. You certainly fit the requirements. 
And I know you don't particularly enjoy working at Harrell's." 

Finally, Anne spoke. "Me! ? Why I couldn't do anything like that. I've got a 
husband to think about. I couldn't be running all around town with other 
men." 

"Being married has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Horne reassuringly. 
"Five of my girls are married. Two are like yourself-separated by the Army 
or the Navy. And three live with their husbands right now. They just work 
one or two nights a week for extra money." 

"Don't their husbands mind. I mean ... Don't they want their wives home with 
them, not out with strange men?" questioned Anne. 

"Of course they want their wives with them. But this is business. They enjoy 
having an extra fifty or seventy-five dollars a week as much as their wives 
do. Look at it this way: How about airline stewardesses, and waitresses, and 
private secretaries? Aren't they with men all the time? Do their husbands 
mind?" She let Anne think about that a minute. 

"But that's different. They..." 

"Don't say any more. I've heard it a thousand times. It's simply this-if you 
can go out with a gentleman, show him the city and make a few dollars for 
Bob's college education later, without getting involved, then it's simple. 
And adult women have no problem doing just this. Women are natural 
entertainers anyway." 

"I don't know ... It just doesn't sound right. I mean Bob just wouldn't 
understand. He'd worry if he knew I was out with other men. Even on 
business," said Anne. 

"That's simple. Don't tell him. I'm not suggesting you lie to your husband, 
heavens knows. Just tell him you're working for Alice's Introductions. You 
needn't go into detail." 

"Oh that would never do. He'd want to know a lot more than that," replied 
Anne. 

"Why don't you cross that bridge when you come to it?" suggested Mrs. Horne. 
"If he asks, then tell him. Don't make a problem out of it now." 

"I'm still not sure about it," admitted Anne. "In a way it sounds like a lot 
of fun. Anything would be better than working at Harrell's. But I'd have to 
think about it ... I couldn't..." 

Mrs. Horne interrupted. "I don't want you to make up your mind right now. 
We'll talk about it later. Anyway, here comes my dessert. Are you sure you 
won't have a little?" 

Anne lay awake for hours, listening to the late-night show on the clock 
radio beside the bed, and tossing around Alice Home's offer. Why not, she 
asked herself. I would have my days free, and three nights a week would be 
as much as I'm making now and I could save for 

Bob's college. Oh, but I couldn't. Suppose I ran into a friend of Bob's. I 
would just die if he found out. He would never understand it was just a job. 

And in a moment, she was asleep; the radio still playing, and her mind still 
jumbled and confused. 

 CHAPTER 2 

Frederic's was unquestionably the most fashionable, most super-elegant 
dinner club in the city. The motif was Victorian, but the cuisine was 
strictly Continental. Gas lights and red-flocked wallpaper added just the 
right turn-of-the-century touch, and the walls were adorned with gilt-framed 
oils of the nineteenth century. Mr. Frederic himself personally seated 
everyone, and only after assuring himself of one's comfort did his crowd of 
waiters, wine stewards and assistants descend with a flourish. Anne tried to 
enjoy it all, to just feel, smell and taste, rather than think about it. But 
it was hopeless. She was out with another man, and nothing would change 
that. A stabbing chill ran through her body every time Mr. Frederic came 
through the arched doorway with another group. What if it's someone I know? 
What do I do if they come over to this table? How could I ever hope to 
explain being out with another man while my husband is five thousand miles 
away? 

Anne wasn't sure herself about being in this place. The decision had not 
been really hers. She had kicked around Mrs. Home's offer for two days, and 
was still unsure of the right move, when the cosmetics department manager 
called her in to tell her that all new employees were being cut to 
twenty-four working hours per week, due to a decline in business, and that 
Anne's new hours would include Tuesday nights and Wednesday nights. That did 
it. The rest was easy, and before she really had time to think, Mrs. Horne 
had brought her into her offices, trained her in sightseeing and being the 
proper hostess, and scheduled her for her first evening's work. She even 
advanced her twenty dollars, just to tide her over until the real money 
could start coming in. 

Thank heavens it's a double-date! Anne was still nervous when the waiter 
returned with the first of the dinner. She wasn't quite sure what she had 
ordered, but it was French and it sounded delicious. Her escort's name was 
John Montgomery, and he was in the city for three days for a buying trip. He 
was hesitant to discuss his business, and Anne could understand why-there 
was a well-worn white band on the third finger of his left hand, where a 
ring had obviously been. She pretended not to notice, and carefully avoided 
any conversation about marriage. Mrs. Horne had insisted that Anne leave her 
wedding ring on, a request that didn't make sense to her. She was finding it 
easier than she had expected, and with a few drinks tucked away, Anne was 
actually beginning to have a good time-something she had not really hoped 
for. Her "co-hostess" was Patricia Desmond, and was obviously a seasoned 
pro. She was quite skillful at the art of teasing, urging her date on just 
enough to keep him contented, then backing coyly away. He was also in town 
on a buying trip, but not with the same company. 

"Anne, aren't these two just darlings? I mean, to bring us to such a nice 
place. I would have been just as happy with hamburgers and french fries, 
wouldn't you, Anne? Why this place is the best restaurant in town." Patricia 
apparently had no intentions of slowing down, so Anne only smiled demurely 
and nodded in agreement as Pat bubbled on and on. Pat had slipped her 
fingers under her date's collar, and was tauntingly massaging his neck at 
the top of his spine. "Why, Edmund you're so strong and muscular. How do you 
do it? I mean, running a business and all of that. Doesn't that take most of 
your time?" 

Anne couldn't help thinking that Pat was laying it on a little thick, and 
she wasn't really talking very much with her date. But in fact, it didn't 
seem to matter. John seemed to be content to just stare at her, a habit that 
made her rather uncomfortable. Anne had forgotten how it felt to be looked 
at that way by a man. All those days and nights alone in that apartment had 
blurred the memories. 

And she had a few of those. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, and pixy-like 
bangs clipped off just even with her eyebrows, and her slender, 
youthfully-firm body, teamed up to make her a real head-turner. At least in 
the days before Bob. She hadn't really noticed after that. Bob always told 
her he thought she had the best body of any girl he had ever seen, and he 
used to have her parade before him sometimes without any clothes on. It 
embarrassed her at first, but pretty soon it became sort of fun. Sometimes 
she would twist her hips just a little, in a kind of mock striptease grind, 
and she could see him get excited. His breathing would get faster, and that 
tell-tale bulge of his hardening penis would begin to rear its head inside 
his pants. 

"...Well, what do you say?" 

Anne snapped back to Frederic's. Everyone was waiting for her to answer. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was thinking about something. What was the question ? " 
she asked, embarrassed. 

John thought her daydreaming amusing. 

"I'd rather hear about what you were thinking of so intently, but the 
question was-How about some champagne? This place is so nice, I thought we 
would just stay a little longer." 

"Sure. Sure. I'd love some." 

Maybe that will relax me a little, she told herself. I don't know why I'm so 
tense and tightened up inside. After all, they all seem to be very nice. 

And she was right. A few glasses of the bubbling champagne eased away almost 
all of her tension, and conversation began to come easier. 

"This is my first date, you know," she giggled, giving John's arm a tiny 
humorous squeeze. "Not really my first date, I mean ... I've had dates 
before ... Oh, you know what I mean. My first date with the introduction 
service." 

"Yes, I know," confessed John. "Mrs. Horne told me. She also told me that 
you were her prettiest girl. And I can see she was telling the truth in both 
instances." 

Pat didn't appear to be listening, but that caught her ears. 

"Now wait just a minute, Mr. John L. Montgomery," she began, the words 
mushing together from the champagne. "You shouldn't tell a girl she's the 
prettiest around when you've got another one sitting at the table." 

She puffed her lips together in a mock pout. 

"Boy, you've got ears like a jittery dog. I'll have to watch what I say," 
said John. He rose out of his chair, and stretched across the round table. 
"I stand corrected-the two prettiest girls," and he gave her a quick kiss on 
the cheek. 

"That's better. You don't get two mistakes like that," she teased. "And why 
didn't you leap to my defense, Edmund? Don't think I'll forget. We'll 
see..." And the rest disappeared in the din of the restaurant as she leaned 
close to his ear. 

"Oh, baby, you're too much!" roared Edmund, coming alive finally. Anne 
wondered for a moment what she had said to him, but she soon forgot as the 
lights flashed for the opening of the floor show. 

A single beam pierced through the smoky haze and burst on an attractive 
brunette standing at the edge of the ringside tables. They were only two 
tables back. Frederic had given them excellent seating. 

"Frederic's welcomes you, Ladies and Gentlemen. We hope to make your evening 
here as pleasant as possible. My name is Gloria Landon, and I'd like all of 
you to just sit back, have another drink, and travel with me around the 
world. In song, that is..." 

John poured another round of champagne. And the girl singer began her medley 
with April in Paris. 

"What do you say we cut out after this song?" suggested Edmund. "The food 
was good, but I can't say much for the broad." 

Pat only giggled, and shoved her chair tightly against Edmund's. "That 
sounds like a pretty flimsy excuse to me. Just what did you have in mind 
after we leave here?" she asked. 

Edmund whispered in her ear, and she burst into laughter and Anne could feel 
every eye in the place fixed on their table from the noise. 

"Edmund, old boy, I think you're right. We'd better be moving on. I think 
the natives are getting restless," said John, signaling for the waiter. 

Anne knew she should feel embarrassed, but she didn't. Actually, it was sort 
of fun. like she was thumbing her nose at all these people. And she liked 
the way it felt. 

John lowered his voice. "Anne, I guess we'd better go. It looks like Pat is 
feeling the bubbly a little." 

Then followed a seemingly-unending procession of hotel bars, topless clubs, 
and finally, a last bottle of champagne after hours at an out-of-the-way 
after-hours club that Pat knew about. Anne was completely at ease, and by 
this time, she didn't give a damn who saw her. 

"Hope is not lost yet," toasted John, clinking his glass against Anne's. "I 
know where there is one more bottle ... in the bar refrigerator at my hotel 
suite. I had it there just in case." 

"Hooray!" chorused Pat and Edmund. "What are we waiting for!" 

"Hotel Suite..." Those words triggered an alarm somewhere deep in Anne's 
subconscious. 

"Oh, no ... I mean, I must be getting home ... It must be terribly late." 
She struggled desperately for a legitimate excuse. 

"Come on, Anne dearie," interrupted Pat. 

"Let's scout for a powder room. You fellows just sit tight. We'll be back in 
a minute." 

She took Anne by the arm and led her across the dim room. The tiny club was 
decorated like someone's den, and they had to weave in and out between sofas 
and chairs sprawled around. 

"Listen," Pat began when they reached the restroom. "Don't be so uptight. 
Loosen up a little. These guys just want to have a little fun. Now it's been 
a good night up 'til now. Don't blow it." 

"I can't help it, Pat." Anne could feel her eyes clouding, and she felt 
silly for being such a child. "I just can't help it, that's all. I'm not 
going to his hotel with him. The deal was for sightseeing and dinner, and I 
think I've more than lived up to my bargain." 

Pat seemed to sober up in a single breath. 

"Wake up, sweetie. This is not Victoria England. It's the twentieth century. 
Get a little fun out of life. Do you plan to sit on your hot little tail 
until your old man comes back? What do you think he's doing over there in 
Vietnam?" 

"Don't talk like that," cried Anne. "Bob's got nothing to do with this. I 
can make my own decisions. And besides, he's in combat. Risking his life all 
the time, that's what he's doing!" 

"Sure. And I hope he gets a medal," continued Pat. "But what about those 
three-day passes in Saigon? And those R&R leaves in Australia, or wherever 
it is they go? What do you suppose he does then? Read a book?" 

Anne was an inch from bursting into tears. 

"How can you say things like that? Bob's faithful to me, I know he is!" 

Patricia eased off. "Okay, forget it. You do whatever you want to, but I'm 
warning you, don't blow this for us. Mrs. Horne won't be too happy with 
either of us if you do. Here, wipe your eyes before you ruin your make-up." 

She handed Anne a tissue from her purse. 

"Now, that's better," she said reassuringly. "Edmund and I will go ahead in 
his car. And you and John can come when you're ready. He'll know something 
is wrong, but you do the best you can to keep him happy. All right?" 

Anne agreed, and returned with Pat to the dim room. 

Patricia and Edmund left, and Anne finished a cup of black coffee with John. 

"Anytime you're ready, we'll go," said John cautiously. 

John recovered their coats, and they climbed into his rented car for the 
drive to the Adler Inn. Anne had never been there, but she knew it was 
elegant-and expensive. A uniformed doorman met them as they eased to a stop 
at the end of the long, sweeping drive. The whole area was lit with blazing 
torches, and gave the hotel a "Hollywood" look as well-dressed couples 
stepped gracefully from their limousines and sports cars. 

"Wow, this place is too much!" was all Anne could say. 

John held her arm as she left the car. 

"Don't be too impressed. It's all on the company expense account," he 
admitted. They crossed the spacious lobby and stopped in front of the main 
desk. John asked for, and received, another key to his suite. 

"I gave Edmund my key, so they wouldn't have to wait in the lobby," he 
explained. "And now I've got to make a call to my boss. I'll use the phone 
in the restaurant. Wouldn't want the old boy to know I was having a good 
time." 

Anne suspected his boss was more-likely his wife. Men don't usually call 
their boss long-distance in the middle of the night. 

"Certainly, go ahead. I'll wait for you," offered Anne. 

"No, no. I can't have you standing around the lobby. Some horny 
conventioneer would cart you off in a minute. You take this key and let 
yourself into my suite. Help yourself to anything you want. And I'll be 
along in a second." 

Anne took the key, and gave the elevator boy the floor number. He gave her a 
knowing grin that was almost a leer. 

"Yes, ma'am. Anything you say." 

 CHAPTER 3 

Room 1028 was at the far end of the carpeted hallway. Anne fumbled the key 
in the lock, making a purposeful noise to signal her entrance. She wasn't 
quite sure what to expect as she stepped into the darkened room. The drapes 
were open, and she could see the moving lights of the freeway ten stories 
below. Barely audible music was coming from somewhere. The suite was 
obviously large, with doors opening off of the main room on both sides. 

Damn it, where is the light switch! 

Anne ran her hand along the wall beside the door, but it wasn't there. 
Tripping twice over unseen furniture, she made her way to the bar in front 
of the window. 

Here's that silly switch. 

Anne started to turn the rheostat switch, and the lights came up to a dim 
golden glow. 

And then she heard it. Patricia and Edmund were in the blackness of the 
bedroom just a few feet from her side. She gently eased the switch back, and 
again the room was dark. Should she speak or remain quiet? She started to 
tip-toe away, and wait quietly for John, but the voices coming from the 
darkness held her like a magnet, her ears straining to catch what they were 
saying. It was somehow exciting, like a kid sneaking a peek at his older 
sister and her boyfriend; and though Anne knew she shouldn't listen, or at 
least let them know she was there, she didn't. She just stood there at the 
end of the bar in the dark. 

"...It's big enough for me, honey ... Oh, come on..." 

"...No, he won't be here for a while yet. Said he wanted to call his old 
lady. Isn't that something, two good-looking chicks, and he wants to call 
his wife." 

Anne could only pick up parts of the conversation, but it didn't take much 
effort to figure out what was going on. She wasn't really surprised; 
actually, she had expected Pat to go to bed with him. She only wondered how 
she would be able to escape the same fate herself. John would be there any 
minute, and it wasn't going to be easy to say no diplomatically, with Pat 
and Edmund pawing each other in the bedroom. 

Maybe I should get out while I can, she wondered. But what will Mrs. Horne 
say? Surely she will understand. I mean, this isn't the kind of thing she 
expects. She said so herself-that my job is to show them the sights, and a 
good time. John seemed nice enough, maybe I should just wait and explain to 
him that I'm not that sort of girl. 

Just then the light flashed on from the bedroom and Anne crouched behind the 
bar, out of their sight. She was too embarrassed to show herself now. 

"Good Lord, why am I hiding here? I'm an adult. I'll just stand up and let 
them know I'm around. 

Anne peered around the corner of the. mahogany bar, into the room. Someone 
was under the covers, but she could only see one figure. The bedside lamp 
was the one that had just been switched on. 

"Hurry up. What're you doing in there?" 

A door shut somewhere, and Pat walked into Anne's line of sight. She was 
stark naked. 

Pat had loosed her hair from its upswept bonds, and thick handfuls of it 
tumbled over her shoulders in coal black waves. Her skin was flawless; ivory 
softness that contrasted so starkly with her dark hair, that hung past the 
middle of her back, and brushed over her rigid, cocoa brown nipples as she 
walked. Her breasts needed no help from a bra, they jutted out proudly in 
twin, firm mounds, without a trace of sag. She stopped in the middle of the 
room, staring at Edmund in the bed, unaware of 

Anne's presence just a few yards away. Anne couldn't stand up now! How could 
she let Pat know she had been watching her parading nude before Edmund. 

Pat brushed aside the hair from her breasts, tossing it all over her 
shoulders so that it hung behind her. She placed her hands on her flat 
stomach, and slowly, ever so teasingly, slid them up until they were both 
nestled under the full, soft mounds of her breasts. 

She crawled onto the large bed, her full resilient breasts dangling beneath 
her, sexually rocking from side to side with her every movement. She pulled 
the sheet off Edmund, and the startled Anne could see his full nakedness in 
the yellow pool of light that surrounded the bedside lamp. He was in good 
shape, she noticed, very little flabbiness marred his muscular body. Anne 
couldn't avoid staring at him-she tried to turn away, but the sight of his 
naked body held her like a magnet. She wasn't accustomed to seeing men 
without their clothes on, except for Bob, and her eyes remained glued on his 
bare loins-his cock straight up, rock-hard and muscular like the rest of 
him, throbbing with anticipation. 

The lust-dazed Pat crawled up and over his prone body, arching her long, 
smooth back in a low curve that swept down toward him, her bulging breasts 
brushing his legs as she moved slowly up the bed. Her brown nipples were 
hard and tight, and Anne could see her shiver involuntarily as the tender, 
pulsing tips teasingly brushed his flesh. She moved her smooth, lean body 
from side to side, like an animal watching its prey, delicately trailing the 
points of her nipples across his thighs. 

She seemed to enjoy teasing him, for she was grinning lustily like a 
sensuous cat as he squirmed under her tantalizing advances. 

She lowered her head toward his loins, her ovaled lipstick rimmed lips just 
inches from his hard, pulsing penis. She was looking him straight in the 
eye, licking her lips slowly, suggestively-easing closer and closer to his 
aching cock. 

Suddenly Edmund could stand it no longer. He thrust his hips upward, driving 
the burning tip of his prick into her wet, warm mouth. She ovaled them wider 
to accommodate him, and made no attempt to back away. 

My God, Anne thought. What is she going to do? 

Anne remembered that once, when she and Bob were making love, that he had 
pushed her head down into his lap, thrusting his penis near her lips. She 
remembered, too, how she had frozen-unable to let the fleshy member enter 
her mouth. Bob had tried to hold her there, but she had broken away and ran 
from the bedroom. Nothing was ever said about it, but she recalled that he 
had seemed mad or hurt for weeks afterward. 

Is this what he wanted me to do? Is this the awful perverted act he had 
tried to make me perform ? 

Anne was transfixed, her eyes glued on the obscene spectacle lighted like a 
stag movie before her. Her vision sometimes blurred a little-from the 
champagne-but she could see well enough to make out what was going on in the 
next room. 

She watched in amazement as the long, glistening cock slithered between her 
pursed lips, ovaled tightly around it as it plunged deep into her throat, 
then pulled out until only the bulging, red tip was sheltered in the wetness 
of her hungrily sucking mouth. Anne had never seen anything like it-and she 
stared in disbelief as the long, throbbing penis disappeared again and again 
between her rounded accommodating lips. 

She could not pull herself away-as she watched, a sort of evil, perverse 
thrill made her shiver: It was like watching something forbidden, and she 
couldn't take her eyes away. 

Locked in her hypnotic state, Anne failed to notice the brief flash of light 
that pierced the darkened room as someone opened the door behind her. A 
shadow made its way across the room. Suddenly she glanced it from the corner 
of her eye. 

"Oh...!" she gasped, but a hand clasped quickly over her mouth. 

"Sh-h-h. It's only me," he whispered. "John." He took his hand from her 
face. "Don't let me interrupt the show." 

Anne felt her face turn bright red, as she turned her head, trying to avoid 
looking at him. 

"Don't be embarrassed. I won't tell anyone," he continued. "Just keep quiet 
and watch." 

With two strong hands, he guided her head back around toward the obscene 
show in the bedroom. 

"You weren't having any difficulty peeping before. Now watch when they 
really go at it he ordered. 

Anne mumbled her assent beneath his hand and surrendered to the lewd 
spectacle. She couldn't believe it! Her eyes widened in amazement. She was 
sure Patricia would strangle on the long, slithering cock buried obscenely 
between her pursed lips. But somehow she managed to swallow its full, moist 
length, sucking at it voraciously, as though a long-unsatisfied hunger were 
suddenly being fulfilled. 

The whole, lurid scene was forbiddingly fascinating, as Pat's rounded lips 
gripped tightly around the fleshy shaft driving into her mouth. Her cheeks 
puffed as she choked to nestle every inch of the long cock in her hungry 
mouth. She had turned into a seeming wild, uninhibited animal before Anne's 
disbelieving eyes! 

Her eyes seemed glazed by some unknown powerful force, her entire body 
trembling with excitement as she sucked hungrily on the long, hard penis 
bucking wildly into her eager lips. Though fifteen feet away, Anne could 
hear a low, animal moan coming from deep in Pat's throat, as she gagged on 
the rigid instrument buried in her mouth. 

Anne could feel her own body growing warmer and warmer as she watched, 
enraptured, the amazing display; and she tried not to notice the 
ever-widening wetness between her own legs, as her own slowly awakening 
vagina spread a thick, sticky moisture over the constrictive fabric of her 
pantie's crotch band. 

Through the dim light, Anne could see Pat's soft, elastic lips gripping 
hungrily the throbbing, hard penis rocking back and forth into her mouth. A 
tiny, white rim of fluid circled the shaft nestled between her lips, and 
Pat's face twisted with unrestrained lust as she sucked harder and harder on 
the white cock. She sucked and pulled so hard that it seemed she would jerk 
the long shaft from his loins. Pat's smooth, rounded buttocks thrust upward 
as she burrowed against his hairy pelvis, two taut, firm mounds that 
squirmed invitingly in the empty air. She was obviously swallowed up in a 
mindless frenzy of uncontrollable lust, and soft moaning gasps made their 
way from between her tightly ovaled lips. 

Her hips began to thrust back and forth, grinding in a slow rhythm as her 
loins ached for hard, plunging relief. As her warm, wet lips and tongue 
continued their methodical spiraling up and down Edmund's rock-hard cock, 
building the desire in his belly higher and higher, Pat's own loins began to 
ache with burning intensity; and her rhythmic sucking grew faster, 
accompanied by even more abandoned grinding thrusts of her bare buttocks. 

Without even knowing it, Anne began to involuntarily sway her hips ever so 
gently from side to side-in perfect rhythm with Pat's lusty grinding. She 
had become so caught up in watching Pat and Edmund, that she had nearly 
forgotten about John standing behind her. His arms were around her waist, 
locked under her breasts; and she could feel him ease slowly forward until 
his pelvis was flat against the mounds of her slightly squirming buttocks. 
She could feel a growing stiffness in his pants that pressed in a hard bulge 
into the soft yielding crevice of her buttocks, forcing the fabric of her 
dress tightly into the narrow furrow, sending tiny shivers of unwanted 
pleasure rippling through her belly. 

John loosened his grip around her torso, and eased his hands up and under 
the smooth, firm curve of her breasts, still protected by the fabric of her 
dress. His opened palms eased further upward, over the twin mounds, then 
closing like pincers on her tender nipples, jutting up in tiny points 
through the cloth. His fingers closed around both her throbbing nipples, 
opening and closing, in the same rhythm kept unendingly by Pat's upturned 
crotch fifteen feet away. 

His hands opened wider and covered the soft mounds of her firm, young 
breasts, massaging and cupping them in a tantalizing, grinding circular 
motion. 

The sensation was just too much! She squirmed eagerly against the growing 
hardness resting in the narrow crease of her buttocks. 

John stopped his massaging just long enough to find the zipper on the back 
of her dress. 

She felt a momentary urge to run! To run as far away from all of this as 
possible. She remembered Bob, her husband and her vows to him when he went 
away. But the aching in her belly had escaped her control. All the lonely 
months without a man raced past in her mind. All the countless nights alone 
in her bed- 

She shivered as the zipper slowly crept tantalizingly down her back, 
exposing her bare back to the chilled air. John slipped the edges of the 
dress over her shoulders, and began to kiss her lightly along the long, 
smooth expanse of her now nude back. Again his hands made their way around 
her body, and up the soft plane of her belly to the soft, warm mounds now so 
fully open to his touch. Anne felt as if all hope were gone-as if she had 
truly surrendered and all hope was gone. She bit her lip to hold back the 
tears-torn between what she thought to be right-and the all-consuming desire 
that ravaged her body. 

His hands cupped the bulging mounds eagerly, squeezing her raw nipples 
between his fingers, squeezing them ever so tightly, until she thought she 
could stand no more. His loins were thrust even harder back behind her 
against the crevice of her buttocks, and she could feel the hard bulge 
swelling, aching in its bonds of fabric. 

For a moment, she forgot her own plight, as Edmund squirmed around on the 
bed before her. God! What's he doing now? 

He worked his way around on the bed, being careful not to pull his long cock 
from the wet confines of Pat's hungrily clasping lips. He turned himself 
completely around on the bed, until his head was between Patricia's knees as 
she knelt on the mattress. Anne hypnotically craned her head for a better 
view, as John continued to tease her with excruciating squeezes of her 
tender breasts. 

Suddenly Edmund grabbed Pat's hungrily thrusting buttocks with both hands, 
jerking her down with a loud slap as she smashed against him, her knees 
sliding out at an absurd angle from her body. Anne quickly covered her 
mouth, afraid that she might gasp, as she realized what he was about to do. 
He was going to do the same thing to her! 

Pat didn't miss a beat as she continued to suck on the long, white cock, as 
if actually trying to swallow it; while Edmund began to nibble tenderly at 
the soft flesh of her thighs, his head cradled between them. 

Anne knew what was coming next, but she didn't know whether to turn away or 
keep her eyes fastened on the horribly unbelievable spectacle. Her own 
buttocks were rocking gently back and forth, and John was smashed against 
her, rocking with her-the bulge in his pants burrowing deeper into the slit 
of her buttocks. 

In front of them, Edmund brought his hands around Pat's legs, his fingers 
squeezing the soft mounds of her buttocks, working closer together toward 
the warm open wetness of her cunt. 

His thumbs worked their way around the curve of her buttocks, until they 
were massaging the fleshy outer edges of her cunt, gently rubbing the pink 
flesh, all of it moist and glistening. Anne held her breath as his thumbs 
began to slowly part the tender flesh, spreading it outward, brushing aside 
the soft pubic hair, and exposing the warm, inviting slit of Pat's softly 
pulsating vagina. 

The hardening bud of her clitoris could be faintly seen, a tiny nodule 
pulsing and growing just above the tight, fleshy opening of her vagina. 

Edmund buried his face in the warm wetness of her cunt, his long tongue 
lashing out in a rapid-fire burst, licking teasingly at the incredibly 
sensitive bud quivering just a scant inch from the opening of her flaming 
cunt. Pat snapped like a whip as the first contact was made, her thighs 
smashing tightly together, trapping his head in a soft, fleshy grip. 

Slowly, tantalizingly, his hard tongue probed the soft, pink flesh around 
the warm throbbing hole, circling the nub of raw nerves, touching it-sending 
wracking shivers of ecstasy through her tortured body. 

The obscene spectacle had become even more unbelievable than before! 

Anne could only stand with her mouth open-seeing, but not really believing, 
as Pat's buttocks twisted and squirmed lustfully while Edmund ground his 
face deeper and deeper up into her open wet crotch, his tongue probing 
deeper and deeper into the soft, ragged opening to her cunt. 

Pat's ravaged body was jerking spasmodically, as if out of control, but her 
lips remained locked tightly around his long, hard prick, now buried to the 
thick, hardened base between her warm, wet lips. 

Then Pat slowed the rhythm of her savage sucking of his long, hard cock, 
pushing her face flat against his pelvis, then rocking back, letting the 
wet, glistening shaft slip slowly from her mouth. She eased back until none 
remained sheathed between her warm, moist lips-only a tiny, white thread of 
hot fluid that hung delicately between the throbbing, swelled tip of the 
long prick and the softness of her hungry, ovaled lips. 

She seemed to pause to look at the slender shaft, then lashed out at it, 
snake-like, with her long, probing tongue-as Edmund burrowed his own tongue 
deep in the flaming-hot wetness of her pussy, forcing his way between the 
pink, fleshy walls, licking at the raw, sensitive surfaces, driving her 
insane with desire. 

Pat licked around the pulsing tip-now swelled to twice its normal size-and 
Edmund could feel the surging heat building in his balls-an aching, fiery 
flood that strained to break free. And he knew he couldn't hold it back much 
longer. 

Sensing his mounting passion, Pat swirled her long, red tongue around the 
full length of his steel-hard cock, slipping it once again back into the 
warm, wet shelter of her hungry lips, sliding it along her rough tongue and 
deep into her throat-every millimeter buried in her greedy, yearning mouth. 

Anne felt as if it were she sprawled there on the bed, as tiny shivers of 
excitement tingled in her lower belly, like minute electric bursts. It was 
as if Edmund's lips were locked on her clitoris-as if his tongue was licking 
its way along the damp slit of her vagina. 

She would never have guessed that she could become so excited from just 
watching anything. But it was happening, and there was no denying that she 
was getting excited. She could feel her nylon panties sticking wetly to her 
crotch, held by the dampness of her vagina, and she knew it was too late to 
run-too late to turn away. But she wasn't sure now that she even wanted to 
turn away. Something about the animal display being unrolled right in front 
of her kept drawing her closer. Something far back in the depths of her mind 
kept urging her on, coaching her-and she almost felt like throwing off her 
clothes and jumping in the bed with Pat and Edmund, letting this total 
stranger touch her like that-fondle her, caress her, do anything he wanted 
to with her. 

Oh, God, what am I saying? I shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that. 
What's come over me? Maybe it's the champagne... 

She tried to put it out of her mind, but it was hopeless. 

Suddenly, she saw Edmund arch up off the bed, burying his wet cock deep in 
Pat's hungry mouth. So deep that his soft hairy testicles smacked against 
her nose as he bucked his body upwards. His eyes were shut, and he was 
biting his lower lip, fucking her with long, hard strokes-fucking her just 
as surely as if he were driving into her cunt instead of her widely ovaled 
lips. 

And then it happened. 

He forgot all about sucking voraciously on Pat's clitoris, all about worming 
his rough tongue into the warm, soft wetness of her vagina. He grabbed the 
sheet in two fistfuls, and gave one last lunge into her throat, and it was 
all over. 

His nude body convulsing, he emptied his load deep up into her 
mouth-squirting it in hot, sticky bursts up between her warm lips as she 
hovered over him, against the back of her throat and down, choking her as 
she swallowed again and again to gulp it all down. He gave one last shiver, 
and fell back against the bed, like a runner collapsing after a race, his 
soft, rubbery penis slithering from her lips and falling across his upper 
thigh, still wet with the stickiness of his spent load. 

Anne watched in amazement, afraid even to blink for fear of missing a 
second. She'd never seen anything like that in her life, and she wasn't 
about to let the opportunity slip by. She knew she would never have had the 
nerve to watch had she been sober, but she was anything but sober, and she 
wouldn't have missed it for the world. 

John could feel her excitement, and knew the time was right to make his 
move. He slipped her dress down over her smooth-skinned shoulders, and 
pulled it, along with the half-bra he'd pushed aside earlier slowly down her 
bare arms. Anne clutched her hands to her breasts with a low guttural moan, 
stopping him from lowering it any further. 

"No, John, this isn't right. Take your hands off me, please," she whimpered 
lowly, afraid Pat would hear her and know she had seen the whole thing. The 
light was off now, and she could see nothing but moving shadows in the other 
bedroom as Pat and Edmund locked together in a tangle of hot, melting flesh. 

"Please!" She almost shouted that, then lowered her voice again. "You heard 
me ... take your hands off me." 

But he wasn't going to be stopped now. He squeezed his hands under hers, 
between her dress and her bare breasts, and jerked the garment down the rest 
of the way, leaving her naked to the waist. 

Anne lunged toward the window, and tried to squirm away. But his grip was 
too strong, and he held her flat against his chest with one arm locked 
around her waist. 

"I'll scream ... I'm warning you, let me go!" 

"Go ahead and scream," he laughed. "I don't give a damn if you wake up the 
whole floor." 

Just then the door to the bedroom slammed shut. 

They must have heard her! Then they knew she was out there all along! Anne 
felt so humiliated that she could feel herself blushing even in the 
dark-though no one could possibly see her. 

John eased his lock on her for an instant, and she grabbed her chance to get 
away. Jerking away from his grip, she bolted for the door, not even 
bothering to cover her exposed breasts. 

Only luck wasn't in her corner. In the darkness, she crashed into a piece of 
furniture, losing her balance. John grabbed her as she fell, and tossed her 
face first over the edge of whatever it was she bumped. 

She found herself face-down in the cushion of a long sofa, bent nearly 
double over the high padded arm with John holding her down tightly. 

She started to scream, then thought of Pat and Edmund running into the room 
and seeing her in this position, half-naked, her buttocks stuck up in the 
air like a banner. All the alcohol was totally confusing her-for a minute 
she thought it was Bob holding her down. And then it all seemed funny to 
her-almost absurd. But as groggy as she was, she knew she had to get back on 
her feet. Having her head this low wasn't helping at all. 

She wasn't even aware of her dress being tossed up onto her back, or her 
skirt being pushed up around her waist. But then something happened that she 
did feel- 

John could hold back no longer. Seeing her bent over like that in front of 
him, her smooth back tapering gently down to her waist, her long legs 
flaring perfectly at her thighs-it was too much to bear. He slid his hand up 
along the delicate softness of her inner thigh until he reached the barrier 
of her smooth white panties. They were like a roadblock to him, one last 
obstacle between his burning desire and the warm sanctuary of her tight, 
little pussy. He grabbed the waistband of her panties, and snapped them over 
the round, firm globes of her buttocks-creamy white in sharp contrast to her 
well-tanned legs. 

Anne had no choice. "Get away! LET ME GO, YOU MANIAC!" she screamed, at the 
top of her lungs. "Oh, please ... please let me up..." She tried pleading, 
hoping something would work. 

There was nothing but silence as she waited for someone to burst from the 
bedroom and make this whole awful nightmare end. And then she heard it ... 
they were laughing. Laughing at her. She knew there was no hope-that Pat and 
Edmund thought her plight amusing, and, like air from a punctured balloon, 
all the fight left her. There was not an ounce of resistance left. Anne 
buried her face in the cushion, unable to hold back the sobs any longer. 

Oh, why, why is this happening to me? How can I ever look at Bob again? How 
can I ever tell him... 

John was like a madman. The sight of her soft, naked buttocks thrusting up 
invitingly at him was more than he could stand. The tightly clasped edges of 
her moist vagina were like softly puckered lips, eager and waiting for him. 
Her warm wet pussy was a cozy shelter just made for his aching dick, 
bursting with desire as he thought of how it was going to be-driving his 
hard cock deep into her belly-burying it again and again to the hilt in the 
soft fleshy wetness of her cunt. 

He unsnapped his pants and dropped them to the floor, not bothering to step 
out of them. In hardly a second, his undershorts lay crumpled at his feet. 

His plans for her burst like bubbles. He had hoped, in fact dreamed for this 
moment; this young beautiful girl helpless and naked, waiting for his touch. 
And his plans had been thorough-he remembered how he had worked it all out 
in his mind, how he would kiss her and caress her. How his hands would 
slowly and delicately ease down her breasts and over the flatness of her 
belly. How he would fondle her, and teasingly stroke the sensitive flesh of 
her vagina, urging her along, building the hot passion inside her body, 
until, finally, she would beg him for it. Plead with him to ease her aching 
need... 

But all that was forgotten. Blotted out by the sight of her firm, round 
buttocks-her pussy so exposed-so vulnerable... 

And his thick, throbbing cock was so hard that it ached. And John knew he 
couldn't wait any longer. He grabbed her by her smooth curvaceous hips, 
holding them like handles, pinning her like a helpless insect in place. 

"Please ... oh, no. Please..." Anne tried one last time to make him stop, 
tears flooding her reddened eyes. But it was useless. 

John lunged forward like a lineman, his prick, its head swelled with desire 
to twice its normal size, smashing into the soft, pink flesh of her vagina, 
causing her to cry out, this time in pain. 

"Stop! Stop please ... You're hurting me. Oh, God ... pleaseeeee!" Anne was 
fighting to get away with all her remaining strength, but John had the 
strength of a dozen men, so en-flamed was his desire. 

His cock relentlessly worked its way between the moist lips of her pussy as 
he maneuvered his hips to find his target, unable to release her even for a 
second to free one of his hands. 

Damn it, where is her cunt! His balls felt as if they had been pumped full 
of molten lead, heavy and bulging with hot liquid. Just the contact with her 
soft flesh was enough to swell his aching prick even more, so full now that 
it seemed about to explode at any second. 

Anne squirmed her buttocks from side to side trying to dodge the cruel, 
hardened shaft jabbing mercilessly at her young defenseless pussy, but it 
only excited him more. He was like a man who'd been without it for ten 
years, and her feeble resistance wasn't going to stop him. 

His dick nudged against the tightly-puckered opening of her anus, the tiny 
rings of muscle clamped together to ward him off. And for a moment, he 
thought of fucking her there. 

No, not there. Maybe later; right now I'm gonna' sink this cock right into 
her belly. One extra-deep lunge for every second she's kept me waiting. 

And then he found his mark-the hot, wet opening of her delicious squirming 
pussy. He pushed forward with all his weight. 

"Oh, God, no! ... Please, no!" she begged in a helpless moaning voice. 

But there was no stopping him now. He pushed his cock into the warm crevice, 
pushing aside the soft, pink walls in rippling waves, sinking further and 
further into her tight, resisting cunt. 

Damn, is she tight! She feels almost like a virgin ... You don't suppose ... 
Oh, Christ no, not in her line of work. 

Reluctantly the moist fleshy walls gave way, as his thick cock smashed away 
at their resistance, and he plunged into the very depths of her belly, his 
balls smacking loudly against her thighs as he shoved in the last remaining 
inch. 

He'd never felt anything so wonderful in his life. Her pussy was so hot that 
it seemed to be burning his hardened cock like warm liver as it lay buried 
to the hilt in its warm, wet depths. 

Anne was lost in her tears, feeling no ecstasy, no desire, only a continuous 
dull, throbbing pain as the walls of her pussy stretched to allow his thick 
cock to bury itself inside her. She cried until there were no tears left, as 
he rocked into her from behind, every painful jab building the hatred-the 
nauseating disgust inside her. Until this night, Bob had been the only one 
to even touch her there. And now, this near stranger, this man she hardly 
knew was savagely fucking her, like a stallion mounting a mare, with no 
regard for her feelings, concerned only with his own animal satisfaction. 

John loosened his grip on her long enough to reach down with one hand and 
finish pulling off her panties-they were still around her ankles. He pulled 
them off her right foot, and with his own foot, spread apart her bare legs, 
pushing the smooth calf until she opened her legs wide, widening the wet 
slit of her cunt. He plunged in even harder, smacking against her uterus 
with his rock-hard cock. 

"Oh! You're hurting me!" she screamed as he drove his dick into her belly. 
The pain was becoming worse and worse with every pistoning lunge. 

And then, like a switch being thrown, and in spite of her fear and shame, 
Anne slowly began to feel something quite different. Just a little at first, 
then more, as his long tunneling strokes grew faster and deeper. Harder and 
harder he pumped into her crotch, his wet glistening cock slithering in and 
out more easily now as her own secreting vaginal juices began to excitedly 
lubricate the narrow, stretching passage. 

Somehow the pain seemed to be easing. And in its place, another unwanted 
sensation-a warm glowing ember seemed to be slowly building into a red hot 
flame deep in her insides, a soft ball of heat that seemed to be growing 
larger and larger, and spreading at it grew-first her belly, then her crotch 
and finally her whole body was beginning to feel its warmth. 

John could sense her sudden change-he knew his long, deep strokes were 
getting to the little bitch, and he slowed down the rhythm, still just as 
deep, only slower and smoother. He watched her back arch upwards, and her 
young, firm buttocks quiver helplessly and thrust back on his lust-inflated 
cock, squirming to suck every inch deep inside her hot, wet pussy. 

"like it, now, baby?" he asked, giving her a sharp lunge at the same instant 
so she couldn't answer. 

"Aaaaaaaggggh," she groaned, unable to speak as the thick fleshy shaft bore 
into her. 

"I said ... do you like it!" 

He pounded his prick into her again, enjoying the way she choked on her 
words when he fucked her really deep. He liked to see her showing it-showing 
how good it felt, how she wanted all of it deep in her cunt, stretching the 
moist fleshy walls and burrowing down deep in her belly. 

She was fighting it with every ounce of her will-power and determination, 
struggling helplessly to hold back her desire as the hot, thick shaft 
slammed into her again and again. But it was no use-every stroke was sending 
chills of pure pleasure racing along her spine, and she knew then her 
helplessly impaled body and lost the battle. She could feel nothing but the 
huge, fleshy shaft inside her, buried deep in her burning vagina. 

She knew now that no matter what happened, she would never be the same 
person again. She had reached the bottom-the lowest pit of degradation and 
humiliation. Never would she be able to feel the same, her innocence was 
gone forever. 

"Maybe you didn't hear me, bitch," he sneered. "Do you like it ... Answer 
me!" He grabbed her hip bones like the sides of a steering wheel, and threw 
his weight into a quick, deep lunge that went all the way to the bottom of 
her tortured vagina, smashing solidly against the tender flesh deep inside. 

"Oh! Oh, God, yes!" she gasped, barely able to get the words out. 
"Oooooh..." 

That was what he was waiting to hear. He stepped up the rhythm again, 
plunging his thick cock to the hilt, his pubic hairs, wet with her juices, 
tickling her as they rubbed the soft sensitive crevice of her quivering ass. 
Faster and faster he pounded into her, until he thought he would collapse 
from exhaustion before he could finish. 

Every muscle of Anne's tortured body was tightened, and he could see the 
veins in her neck as she held her head back, her mouth open, her hair 
tossing like the mane of a prize mare as she twisted from side to side. 

"Say, fuck me, bitch," he grinned lewdly behind her hollowing back. 

"Ohhhh ... Fuck me, fuck me hard ... Harder, oh, God, harder." Her voice was 
a hoarse gasp as she choked out the words, hardly knowing what she was 
saying. 

Nothing mattered anymore but the delicious bolts of pleasure streaking 
through her body like lightning, as she twisted her buttocks hard against 
his thrusts, climbing his hard, thick cock, grinding her fleshy buttocks 
against his loins as he stroked into her again and again. 

He reached under her belly and lifted her up, making the wet passage 
perfectly aligned with his long, smooth strokes. 

"Ooooooooh," she moaned, the new angle making her body tremble as wave after 
wave of wonderful pleasure flooded her belly. 

John was sweating all over, but he didn't ease his pace. Every hard stroke 
smashed its way through the soft, warm yielding walls of flesh and into her 
aching womb. His balls were aching as they slapped again and again against 
the curve of her tender inner thighs, his strokes growing faster each time. 

He rubbed his hands along the smooth rounded cheeks of her buttocks-there 
was no need to hold her any longer. She could only think of getting all of 
his pric"k in her as she ground back on it, meeting every thrust with one of 
her own. Her ragged pink lips were locked tightly around his thick cock, 
holding it firmly as he rocked in and out, pulling him with every in-stroke, 
and reluctantly releasing him as he pulled it back for another lunge. 

Teasingly he fondled the sensitive hair-lined folds of her pussy as his 
prick rammed ceaselessly into her, delighting in feeling his own cock slide 
past his fingers and into her belly. He could hear her soft steady grunts of 
pleasure as he caressed the pink sucking folds, then worked his way along 
the wide-spread crevice to her anus, still tightly puckered, but working 
with her buttocks as she ground her crotch rhythmically back against his 
loins. 

She was as ready as he was. He could feel her tighten, ready to cum, and he 
quickened his deep strokes, each jab bringing new moans of ecstasy from deep 
in her throat . 

"Oooh! ... Oooh ... Oooh..." She punctuated every thrust with a sharp cry, 
not caring who heard her. In fact, she had completely forgotten about 
Patricia and Edmund in the next room. She even failed to notice when the 
bedroom door opened, and two more people joined them in the darkened living 
room. Pat and Edmund were behind the bar-the same one she had been behind 
when she watched them on the bed. They could see everything in the light 
from the huge window-John's buttocks hollowing as he put everything into his 
long, deep thrusts-Anne's naked, white buttocks waving high in the air, 
grinding wetly against him, driving upward to meet his every stroke. 

Again and again he pounded deep inside her, smashing into the deep recesses 
of her belly, grunting and gasping as he fought to keep up the killing pace. 

And then he made it! But the wildly writhing young girl was not ready... 

"I'm cumming! Ooooh, I'm cumming ... Don't stop ... Don't stop, please!" Her 
whole body was arched up off the sofa, only her palms holding her up, her 
desperately driving buttocks thrusting hard back against his hairy pelvis, 
wet and sticky from her own wildly secreting juices. 

But, John could hold back the surging, hot load in his balls no longer. 
Watching this helpless young girl, writhing in complete wanton abandon, 
grinding wetly at his crotch-it was all more than he could take. He couldn't 
hold back-his buttocks were clamped tightly, his muscles fighting to contain 
the hot flood. Suddenly, his body lunged forward, his hard, bulky cock 
burrowing one last time in the wet, fleshy depths of her cunt. One, two 
three ... a half-dozen hot, white spurts blasted into her belly, until 
finally, his balls were empty-all of his fiery hot load oozing far into the 
depths of her insides, spreading its wet warmth deep into her belly. 

Anne was grinding her naked ass fiercely at his hairy loins, slithering back 
on his rock-hard cock as he made his last deep plunge into her enflamed 
pussy. 

"No! Not yet ... Not yet!" she pleaded. "Once more ... Oh, God ... just once 
more..." She smashed her buttocks back against him, pumping his emptying 
cock, fighting for just one more wonderfully agonizing jab. But it was too 
late-she could feel the thick shaft deflating inside her, its once hard 
length now just a soft, fleshy piece of useless penis. 

She was so close! Just once more and she would have made it! Anne reached 
behind her with one hand, grabbing the rubbery deflated prick as it 
slithered from her hungry cunt, vainly trying to stuff it back in ... just 
for a minute. 

But it wouldn't go in-the fleshy knob fell between his legs and dangled 
there limply. 

John backed away from her a few inches, her hungry clasping pussy still 
thrusting back at him, as if fucking a phantom lover. 

"Oooh ... Don't stop ... please don't stop..." Anne's moaning cries fell 
away to soft whimpering whispers as she lay there doubled over the sofa arm, 
her ass still high in the air, her pink, ragged vaginal lips grasping 
hungrily for something that wasn't there. 

'What's the matter, old man? This young thing too much for you?" 

Anne rolled over on the sofa, pulling her bare legs up against herself. It 
was Edmund! He and Pat had been standing there watching! She hid her face 
with her hands, and tried to vanish into the back of the sofa. Never had she 
felt so completely humiliated; she felt worse than a whore. At least a whore 
does her lovemaking in private. 

John didn't seem at all embarrassed. In fact, he was laughing right along 
with them. Anne was ashamed to even open her eyes, unable to look these 
people in the face. 

The three of them were standing alongside the sofa, all of them naked, with 
Pat in the middle. She reached down to Edmund's crotch, and grabbed his 
still-hard dick, squeezing it affectionately between her fingers. 

"You seem to have plenty left, Edmund. Why don't you climb on and show the 
snippety little thing what its all about." she suggested. 

Anne was afraid to react, the words just helplessly echoing in her head. She 
could feel their eyes on her, like animals eyeing their prey, and she was 
too terrified to move. 

"Well, that's sort of up to John," answered Edmund. "I'm sure Pat can keep 
you occupied while I finish her off, though." They all burst into roars of 
laughter. 

Suddenly Anne felt a man's hands on her naked body again. She wanted to 
scream, to kick and yell and make this whole bad dream end, but she 
couldn't. Her unsatisfied need quickly flamed into a raging inferno as she 
felt this man's hand force its way roughly between her thighs. She opened 
her eyes. It was Edmund-leering down at her, on his knees on the sofa, his 
long hard cock dangling beneath him like a saber on his belt. His eyes were 
cold-and fiercely hard like steel. 

"Come on, baby," he began. "Open it up!" He clenched his fist and shoved it 
between her thighs, forcing her legs apart. His middle finger slid easily 
into the warm, wet passage of her vagina, and she could feel the exquisite 
agony returning, sending shivers of excitement through her ravaged body. 

"You'll know what fucking's all about when I get through." Anne could see 
his clenched teeth as he grinned in the semi-darkness. And then she closed 
her eyes-it didn't seem to matter who he was when her eyes were tightly 
shut. It was a man, and that was all that mattered. A man-any man-with a 
big, stiff cock to fill the aching need burning in her belly. She had sunk 
to the deepest depths of depravity, and she knew it. She was nothing but a 
flaming hot receptacle waiting for a man to fill her, her pink fleshy cuntal 
lips hungrily grasping for a hard cock to lock around and squeeze dry. 

Edmund pushed her legs back roughly, pinning her knees into her chest, 
turning her glistening wet crotch directly up into his gaze. He held her 
legs back with one hand across the backs of her thighs, and guided his long, 
hard cock with the other. He slipped it easily between the soft pouting lips 
of her vagina, but stopped as the throbbing head disappeared in the warm 
hair-lined folds-between her wide spread legs. 

Anne writhed helplessly, pushing her upturned crotch at him, eagerly trying 
to quench the fire of unfulfilled desire burning in her quivering cunt with 
his lust-hardened prick. 

But Edmund was enjoying teasing her, he slipped in another inch of stiff 
flesh, then eased it back out until only the tip remained, spreading the 
soft elastic lips in an oval around the pulsating head of his cock. "Want 
it, baby?" he teased down at her? 

"Oh, God, yes, fuck me ... Fuck me!" She groaned piteously, her body out of 
control with burning desire. 

"Please ... Please!" She arched her back off the sofa, grinding her pussy up 
at him. 

He grinned again, and smashed into her like a two-ton truck, crushing her 
under his weight as his long, hard penis sank straight into her belly, 
pushing aside the sensitive fleshy walls of her cunt as he plunged in one 
deep stroke all the way up to his testicles. 

Anne cried out as he smashed against the delicate flesh at the very back of 
her pussy. He was reaching virgin territory-neither Bob nor John had ever 
reached so deep. 

She moaned a sigh of relief as his huge dick filled her hungry passage, 
thrusting smoothly into her as she clasped the stiff shaft with the greedy 
lips of her vagina, slithering voraciously up the length of his cock, 
eagerly devouring its entire length. 

A few short, powerful strokes with the long hard cudgel were all she needed. 
John had brought her so close before-within seconds of her climax-and as the 
stiff prick slammed into the depths of her hungry cunt, her body stiffened, 
her back arching high, her eyes wild with ecstasy. 

"Please don't stop ... I'm cumming ... I'm cumming ... Oooooh God, I'm 
cummmming!" 

She grabbed his buttocks, pulling him tightly against her, driving every 
inch of his long, hard cock into her crotch. Her juices broke free like a 
long-dammed river, flooding his pistoning cock and flowing down the crevice 
of her ass, drenching his hard driving balls as they bounced salaciously 
against her naked, upturned buttocks. 

He took her on, further than she'd ever been before. Tiny purple pin-points 
of light trailed past, then bright flashes of reds and blues. Her legs were 
bent straight back, her knees smashing her soft breasts beneath them, her 
crotch like a flat plane as he continued to thrust again and again into her 
open, steaming pussy. Her juices flowed like a melting flow of hot lava down 
the rounded cheeks of her squirming buttocks. 

Edmund gasped aloud as his sperm burst in flaming hot waves into her gaping 
pussy, shooting deep up into her belly where it mingled with that already 
pumped into her greedy womb by John. The hot, sticky spurts pumped into her 
with the force of a fire nozzle, blasting again and again until she thought 
it would fill her with its sticky whiteness. 

Her hungry wet walls sucked the bucking shaft until there was nothing left, 
every tiny drop milked into her womb. She collapsed on the sofa, every ounce 
of life drained from her young body, still quivering uncontrollably as the 
last glowing coals of wanton desire slowly cooled. Her crotch was so bruised 
and sore that she couldn't close her legs, the tender flesh throbbing from 
the savage assault on her loins. 

"That was quite a show," she heard John say somewhere in the darkness. "Now 
let's see if I can top it." 

 CHAPTER 4 

Anne lifted herself half out of bed as the telephone rang for the third 
ring, but she was unable to make it to her knees. She fell back on the 
pillow, her head still spinning from the champagne of the night before, and 
her stomach churned from the unfamiliar assault her body had endured. 

But it wouldn't stop ringing. And slowly, and painfully, Anne was able to 
struggle her way across the room. 

"Hello." She wasn't quite sure it was her own voice that came from her 
throat. It sounded so hoarse and strange. 

"Good morning, Anne," came the cheerful reply. But Anne was in no condition 
for congeniality this early. 

"Uh ... hello." The voice was familiar, but she wasn't sure. "Is this Mrs. 
Horne?" 

"Yes, honey. I'm sorry. I should have identified myself," she apologized. "I 
hope I didn't wake you." 

Anne glanced at the bedside clock. It was eleven-thirty. "Oh, no," she lied. 
"I was already awake. Just taking a little rest." It wasn't very believable, 
and she knew it. 

"Great. I just thought I would check and see how you liked your first night 
on the job. Did you see all the sights?" 

Anne couldn't believe her ears. She doesn't know! 

She tried to clear the fuzz from her brain, trying to sound alert-as if 
nothing were out of the ordinary. 

"Oh, yes," she answered. And, as an after thought, "Have you talked to Pat?" 

Anne wilted with relief as Mrs. Horne said she had not. 

"Uh ... Mrs. Horne..." Anne was trying to bring her mind into shape. She 
knew she must pick her words carefully. "Mrs. Horne," she continued. "I've 
been doing a lot of thinking. You know ... about this job and everything. 
And I'm afraid I will have to look around for something else. I mean, it's 
just not what I would like to do." She paused for a moment, hoping Mrs. 
Horne would say something. But there was only silence. "I certainly don't 
mean it as anything personal," she went on. "I am truly grateful for your 
offer, but I'm sure now that it's just not the job for me." Anne gripped the 
receiver tightly, breathlessly standing by for the reaction, whatever it 
might be. Finally, Mrs. Horne spoke. 

"I understand, honey. Some girls are cut out for this kind of work, and 
others aren't. You aren't the first girl who thought she wasn't suited for 
this sort of thing. A lot of girls have had a difficult time of it ... I 
mean, adjusting to the idea of going out with men for money. It just takes a 
little time that's all. In a few weeks..." 

"But you don't understand," Anne interrupted. "I don't want to wait a couple 
of weeks. Last night was the first and only date ... I'm giving my notice, 
effective now." Anne was a little surprised at the sternness of her own 
voice, but she was sure it was necessary. Better to hurt her feelings now, 
than to let her down later, she thought. 

"Well, Anne, I'm sure you want to do what is best. You seem like that kind 
of person to me. And nobody knows what is best for you better than you 
yourself. But just the same, why don't you come by my office this morning, 
and let's talk about it. I'm sure we can work something out." 

But Anne insisted. "No, I'm sorry, Mrs. Horne, but my mind made up. I hope I 
haven't let you down or anything..." 

Suddenly Mrs. Home's voice changed. It stiffened with an uncharacteristic 
severity. 

"Anne," she began sharply, "be here at three o'clock. No later. We'll 
discuss it then." 

"But Mrs. Horne..." 

"I'll hear about it then. Nothing more now. Three o'clock. Good-bye." And 
then the line went dead . 

Anne couldn't believe it. She heard it, but somehow it wasn't real. like a 
bad dream. Or maybe a movie. How could sweet, understanding Mrs. Horne talk 
to her like that. Was it something she had said? She had tried to be as 
tactful as possible. What caused her to suddenly change like that? 

Anne fell back painfully on the bed. She had been so caught up in her 
telephone conversation with Mrs. Horne that she hadn't even noticed the 
twinges of pain from her ravaged flesh. Pulling the nightgown over her 
head-something she couldn't remember putting on-she could see the brown 
shadings of an enormous bruise forming on either side of her reddened 
thighs. Her vagina felt as if she had been impaled on a tree stump, and all 
of the muscles down between her legs throbbing with a steady ache. 

Steadying herself with both hands on the edge of the bed, Anne rose slowly 
to her feet. The aches of a moment ago seemed magnified a hundred times. She 
made her way unsteadily to the bathroom, and opened the faucets for a long, 
hot soak. The water was like a doctor's prescription-and she settled down 
into the sheltering warmth until only her head was above water. like a 
powerful drug, the water soothed her mind and body-clouding the awful 
memories of the night before, a night that already seemed a million years 
ago and very far away. 

Anne could not remember coming home at all, or even how she had gotten 
there. That last bottle they had drank was the closing scene in an awful 
movie. Everything was a blank screen from then on. 

She hoped she would never see any of those people again-that maybe by not 
seeing them she could forget that one terrible night, and that maybe Bob 
would never have to know. 

And that was the part that worried her most-not what those awful people 
thought of her, but what Bob would think if he found out. She knew she 
mustn't tell him, no matter how much she wanted to blurt out the whole, 
sordid story and rush into his arms-where everything would be all right. 

Thinking back, it seemed almost impossible. How could a sane woman allow 
herself to be conned into such a terrible mess ? That was the question she 
asked herself again and again. But there seemed to be no answer. There 
wasn't any easy solution-the quick, simple explanation that Anne searched 
for was not to be found. 

She remembered how she had felt the morning after she first allowed Bob to 
go all the way with her. It was a month before their wedding, and for almost 
a year she had been holding him off, and they both agreed that sex was 
something that could wait until they were married. Only sometimes Bob forgot 
about his promises, and their kisses became caresses, and soon they were on 
the brink of doing something they had promised themselves wouldn't happen. 
That night flashed in Anne's memory-they had been at Bob's apartment, and 
had been drinking with Bob's roommate and his girlfriend. Around eleven, he 
left to take his girl home, and they were left alone in the apartment. It 
had started innocently enough, Anne recalled. They were talking about their 
wedding plans, and about children-the kind of things most people about to be 
married talk about. Bob kissed her, and it was very exciting, even more so 
than usual. She remembered that then too, like last night, the alcohol had 
fogged her reasoning-and pretty soon she had found herself too far along to 
stop. like a caged animal finding new freedom, Bob had nearly ripped off her 
panties in the frenzy of passion that followed, and Anne was powerless, even 
unwilling, to stop him. 

Relaxing in the warm bath, Anne thought back to how it had been that first 
time. Painful, and frightening, much like last night. Bob had been holding 
back a flood-tide of desire for nearly a year, and he wasn't in any mood 
that night for moonlight and roses. She remembered how he had jerked her 
panties down to her ankles, and pushed her legs back against her breasts. 
Her dress was shoved up in a wrinkled band around her waist, and she was 
naked from there down. Her bra was already unhooked, and in a quick move he 
pulled the cups up and off of her full firm breasts. He didn't take time to 
remove it, but left it, pushed around her chest, her soft breasts trembling 
with fear of what was to come, and fully open to his view. 

She remembered how she had jerked sharply as a sudden, stabbing pain shot 
through her abdomen. The pain quickly turned to wonderful delight as his 
finger probed the secrets of her virginal orifice. Closing her eyes tightly, 
she forgot all about her promises to herself and to Bob, and allowed her 
body to take control, and the quivering, nerve-shattering electric surges 
blasted through her body. The rest was easy-another agonizing torture as 
Bob's cock, hardened like a steel rod from all the months of frustration, 
smashed painfully through the thin membrane of flesh that separated a 
frightened virgin from a woman. 

Anne couldn't help laughing as she thought of that night-how the next 
morning she had tenderly lowered herself into a hot tub, and how she had 
wracked her mind for an escape. She was so sure then that she could never 
face Bob again. That he would surely never want to marry her after what had 
happened. 

And now it's happened all over again. Only this time the way out isn't going 
to be so easy. This time it wasn't Bob, and that's something he would never 
be able to understand, and something I'll never be able to tell him. 

Gingerly working past the bruises, Anne washed herself, and climbed from the 
tub. She could see herself in the mirror-her firm breasts standing out 
proudly, her lush blonde hair just brushing her shoulders. The soapy water 
trickled down over her perfectly flat belly, and dribbled into the sudsy 
triangle of soft, curly pubic hair at the base. Below, her smooth, gently 
tapered legs... 

She suddenly caught herself and for a moment, was red with embarrassment, 
though no one was around to catch her looking at her own body. That just 
wasn't the sort of thing normal people do, she told herself. But still, if 
only for a second, it was, in an evil sort of way, exciting to know her body 
could create such a lustful desire in a man. That just the sight of her 
unclothed could do to a man what she had done to John the night before, 
without even trying. She knew that even to think such a thing was wrong, but 
for a few moments, it was exciting ... really exciting. 

* * * 

Finding the courage to open the door to Alice Home's office was the hardest 
feat of all. Anne wasn't sure why she had come all the way down town just to 
tell her again that she was quitting. Of course, she could use the money, 
even though the advance she had received probably took care of most of what 
she was due. Anne waited at the door for a moment, half-hoping that someone 
would open it from inside and spare her the decision. 

Summoning up all of her bravery, and working her face into a 
everything's-fine-with me look, she opened the door and strode into the 
office. Mrs. Horne was at her desk, with the telephone receiver at her ear, 
but not saying a word. With a sweep of her hand, she motioned Anne toward a 
chair. Her face was expressionless, not a hint to tell Anne what was going 
on in her mind. 

"I'll just be a minute, dear," she said, with a trace of a smile beginning 
to appear. "This won't take long." 

Anne sat down and tried to appear nonchalant. It wasn't easy, for Mrs. Horne 
was still staring at her, punctuating her stare with an occasional 
acknowledgement to someone on the phone. Finally, the call was finished. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Anne." All of her usual warmth and joviality had 
returned. "Would you care for a little coffee or something?" She left her 
desk and crossed to a tiny refrigerator-water cooler that spouted hot water 
from a red tap. She filled her cup and added instant coffee. "It's not much, 
but it's the best I have to offer." 

"Oh, no thank you. I just had breakfast." Anne lied for the second time in 
one day. But she only wanted to get this over and leave. 

"Well, then, I won't waste any more time," Mrs. Horne began. "I asked you 
here to try to persuade you to change your mind about quitting." She paused, 
but Anne only glanced downward, and said nothing. "I've seen this happen 
many times before," she continued, "And believe me, it always works out for 
the best. If you would just wait a few weeks before making up your mind, I'm 
sure things will look much better to you. The first time is always a little 
rough, and I know it was hard for you to do what you did last night, but you 
know it's easy work, and the money is the best you would make anywhere." 

Anne tightened like a noose. She must know about last night! What if she 
knows! 

"I've given it plenty of thought, Mrs. Horne," Anne said shakily, "And I'm 
afraid my decision is still the same." 

The warm smile vanished from Mrs. Home's face as if wiped away with a 
sponge. Suddenly the friendly, receptive eyes were like two gray pools, 
without a trace of warmth. 

"Okay, I gave you a chance to continue on your own. But if this is the way 
you want to play, we'll do it your way." 

Anne was trembling. This wasn't the Alice Horne she had met in the store. 
Not the nice,-likeable woman she had eaten lunch with. "I'm afraid I don't 
know what you mean.' 

"Just sit tight. You'll see plain enough in a minute." Mrs. Horne pulled a 
leather covered case from her desk, and a small plastic reel. The case 
opened to reveal a small tape recorder, and she wound the tape from the reel 
onto the post. In a few seconds, the tape was in place, and Mrs. Horne 
pressed a button on top. The tape began to slowly wind onto the empty reel. 

The tape wound through slowly for an interminable time, the only sound 
coming out just a steady, low hum. Anne couldn't think of anything to say, 
but she was too stunned to speak if the words had been there. A shiver 
squirmed the length of her body, and she bit her bottom lip tightly, not 
knowing whether to be afraid. 

And then a babble of muffled voices began to whisper from the speaker. At 
first they were unintelligible, just random sounds, as if listening to a 
telephone receiver while the other end is choked off with someone's hand. 

"What's the matter, old man? This young thing too much for you? 

"You seem to have plenty left, Edmund. Why don't you climb on? 

Anne's face went ash-white as the terrible realization slammed into her like 
a high-powered bullet. Those voices are Pat and Edmund. The memory was 
shrouded and unclear, but there was no question about it. That tape was made 
last night! The words seemed to blast out louder and louder, until they 
filled the room and threatened to crush her under their awful weight. 

"Well, that's sort of up to John ? Fm sure Pat can keep you occupied while I 
finish her off? 

Drunken laughter, followed by the shattering sound of a helpless, tortured 
girl, almost as if gasping right into the mike. 

"Come on, baby, open it up! YOU'LL KNOW WHAT FUCKING'S ALL ABOUT WHEN I GET 
THROUGH..." 

Those horrible, vile words rolled off the walls and bounced back and forth 
in her brain like rubber balls. Anne covered her ears with both hands, 
squeezing them until they ached, fighting to keep the awful truth safely out 
of range. 

"No, cut it off! I can't stand anymore," she screamed. "Please, please!" She 
started to run for the door, her hands still tightly over her ears. "I can't 
listen to that!" 

But her move had been anticipated, and Alice Horne stood firmly in front of 
the door, blocking her escape from the terrible memories still so painfully 
fresh in her mind. 

"The recorder is off, Anne. So you can put your hands down and stop acting 
like a ridiculous schoolgirl." Mrs. Horne gripped both her shoulders and 
aimed her for a chair. 

Anne looked up pleadingly, a shower of tears streaming down her cheeks. She 
tried to speak, but her throat was filled with dry cotton. She couldn't hold 
it back any longer. Anne buried her head against her chest and sobbed 
uncontrollably, until there were no more tears to cry. 

"How could you?" she gasped hoarsely. "I trusted you. You knew all along 
what would happen, didn't you. It was all a set-up! Well, wasn't it!" Her 
plight seemed to give her an extra boost of courage, and she looked the 
older woman squarely in the eyes. 

"You're exactly right, honey. But don't try to make me some kind of horrible 
beast. You got a good straddling, and you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it. 
I've heard all of the tape." 

She handed Anne a glass of water from the cooler. "Here, drink this. You'll 
feel better." 

Anne was too numb to argue. She would have swallowed the liquid had it been 
poison. In fact, she might have been grateful for such an easy way out. She 
wanted to throw the glass at this despicable animal, and run away. As far 
away as her legs would take her. But she didn't. 

No, I won't run, she thought. The ugliness is all right here, and I've got 
to face it. I won't let her see me cry again. 

Alice Horne was back behind her desk, as if nothing had happened since Anne 
entered the room. 

"I'm sorry to put you through that, Anne. I really am. But I'm sure you 
don't believe that now." 

Anne only stared with her mouth half-open, crushed under one incredible 
absurdity after another. How can this woman do such a thing, and then sit 
there and tell me she's sorry! 

She continued. "You made the decision yourself. In fact, you made two 
decisions. First, you made your own choice last night. Nobody dragged you to 
that hotel room, and I don't think anyone tied you down. And second, I 
offered you the easy way, but you had to be stubborn. I can't understand 
you, an evening on the town, a good screwing, and getting paid for it to 
boot! What the hell more could you want from life?" 

"Self-respect!" Anne blurted, a little cautiously. "But ... but I guess 
that's not something you would understand." Anne was recovering her 
confidence. "You didn't say anything about going to bed with that man. It 
was just an innocent night on the town, you said. Twenty-five dollars for an 
innocent evening-that's how I remember it." 

Alice Horne smiled for the first time in several minutes. "You're very 
right. That's another thing. Your pay is now up to fifty dollars per date. I 
couldn't tell you that before, or you would have figured something was 
phony." 

Anne jumped to her feet. "I don't care if you pay me fifty thousand dollars 
a date! I'm through. You don't think I would do it again, do you?" 

"Oh, yes, Anne. You'll do it again. And again. And again, if I say you 
will." The trace of a smile was gone again, and the wrinkles turned to cold, 
gray steel. "I didn't have that tape made for my own enjoyment-although I 
should say that it was most entertaining in parts. You're pretty 
thick-headed, aren't you . " 

"What do you mean?" 

"Simple. That tape would make for an interesting evening's pleasure with our 
fighting boys overseas. One in particular ... What do you think Bob would 
say about this little recording you made last night?" 

That was the finisher. One last, devastating blow dropped on top of all the 
others. It actually hadn't hit her until that very instant. Blackmail! The 
kind of thing you see in movies or read about, but not in real life. 

"You wouldn't! ... Not Bob, he's got nothing to do with this!" Anne cried, 
but knowing her answer already. 

"Exactly. He's got nothing to do with our arrangement. And I'm all for 
keeping it that way. I'd much rather make money out of our association. And 
help you make quite a bit yourself. But if you want to go on being stubborn 
and thick-headed, you'll leave me no choice." 

The gray-haired woman rose, and stepped to the doorway. "Now, I think we've 
both had a trying day. Why don't you go buy yourself a new dress or a pair 
of shoes. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She nonchalantly held out her hand, 
with five ten dollar bills in it, and opened the door with the other. 

"NO! ... NO! ... I WON'T ... YOU HORRIBLE ANIMAL! I WON'T!" 

Anne was screaming at the top of her lungs, her eyes wide with unabashed 
hatred and contempt. The woman slipped the crisp bills into Anne's purse, 
just an instant before she ran from the office, her face reddened with 
tears, past a startled man waiting at the elevator, and down the stairway, 
out into the street. 

She didn't see the people stopping to stare as she raced past-past building 
after building, block after block-until she couldn't run anymore. 

* * * 

Just a few short blocks from Anne, Dan Mor-son stood in his corner room at 
the Downtown Arms Motor Inn, his room phone clutched between his shoulder 
and his ear, and both hands fumbling through the stack of papers on the 
desk. 

They didn't tell you about this in Management Training, did they Dan? 

Twenty-five, eight months with Ferguson Precision Tool. One month in 
orientation, six months in Junior Executive Management Training, and 
twenty-eight days in marketing. "The youngest man old Ferguson's ever 
allowed out alone..." And that was something everyone at Ferguson seemed to 
enjoy reminding him of. Still, it tvas an honor and a privilege to be chosen 
for a solo sales assignment so soon out of training. Anderson, in 
accounting, said that most men never make it out without a senior exec by 
their side until they've worked at least a year inside. 

Outstanding accomplishment wasn't new to Dan Morson. It went back as far as 
high school-top ten-percent, Merit Scholarship Finalist-that sort of thing. 
Might have been a Merit Scholar at Harvard Business School or Yale, instead 
of head of the class at lowly Western State College. The top boys at 
Ferguson Tool overlooked that little error. After all, they admitted, even 
the best of us make mistakes in judgment. 

Dan Morson could have had his pick of colleges-and his pick of companies. 
But things just didn't work out that way. Somehow Dan just couldn't fill the 
shoes of the mighty Daniel Howard Morson Sr. Or maybe he didn't want to fill 
them. Anyway, the people at the Selective Service System helped him make up 
his mind. Seven months of indecision and drifting around were all they 
allowed him. Of course, he had let down the honorable name of Morson, not to 
mention breaking his mother's heart. But now it didn't seem so bad. He had 
some good times at Western State, and after all, Ferguson Tool is the second 
largest in its field, and growing every year. 

All that theory in Business Administration had washed away like writing in 
the sand. Dan was on the phone with Jordan of Jordan Machinery. Not exactly 
the biggest client in 

Ferguson's stable, but one that could quickly get a lot bigger. If only he 
could pull it off. 

Landing a new sales order would surely mean a bonus, and maybe, that new car 
that Peggy's been harping on for months. Not that he could really blame her. 
That old Chevy had seen its good days long before Dan even thought about 
college. But the money just never seemed to be there. 

And those two years in the Army had dropped him behind a bit in the race for 
two cars and a house in the suburbs. Some of his ex-high school buddies were 
way in the lead. A couple were even way into the five-figure brackets, and 
it was going to take a lot of extra effort to catch up. Peggy Morson had 
been foresighted enough to latch onto the smartest boy in the senior 
class-the one voted most-likely to make it big. And who could blame her if 
it took a little longer than she had expected, and Jane Lancaster has a 
$30,000 house in Sherwood Oaks, and Alice Graymer's been to Europe twice 
with her husband Ed. I mean, you can't really blame a girl for wanting the 
best out of life. 

"...You and I both know that it can be done. You just get on that little hot 
line and tell that fat ass Ferguson that I said I want 90 day delivery. He 
can move some of that crap off the line and push this through. Call me when 
you're ready to deal. Good-day." 

Wouldn't you know it? First time out, and I get a winner like this. Dan knew 
Jordan was bluffing-that he was just throwing his weight around because he 
knew he had a rookie on the string. But smart salesmen don't tell presidents 
of client companies that they're full of bullshit. 

Dan just left the receiver on the desk. It seemed useless to call the home 
office. And they wouldn't be too pleased if their star rookie came running 
back with his tail between his legs after just one time at bat. No, that's 
not the answer at all. 

Better put the phone back on the hook. Four o'clock and just about time for 
Peggy to call. Got to wait for her to call. That way all those personal 
calls won't pile up on the expense account ledger. Can't be too cautious. 

Damn it, why doesn't she call? I could have left this goddamn room long ago. 
Probably gone to another one of her country club teas. They couldn't really 
afford it, but Peggy had pleaded and begged until he had to give in or move 
out. Dan had only been to the club once since paying their fifteen-hundred 
dollar initiation fee. And that was for a Under Thirty Dance that he 
couldn't let Peggy attend alone. He'd said no at first, but he let himself 
be pushed into it. Being pushed into things wasn't new for Dan either. 

* * * 

Anne had been holding that pen so long her fingers were getting cramped. But 
the paper was still a very obvious empty white. It was only natural to want 
to run to Bob at a time like this. Only how could she even begin to tell 
him? How could she explain what she was doing in a hotel suite with a 
strange man in the middle of the night? 

What can I say? She asked herself again and again. He's thousands of miles 
away. How can I burden him with this awful mess? 

It was hopeless-the words were impossible to find. Anne decided to end the 
day the way it had began-in a steaming hot bath. She still felt slimy-as if 
only a river of water could possibly wash away the filth of last night. Anne 
knew how it must feel to be a whore-a common streetwalker. And then it hit 
her-that's exactly what she was. 

That awful woman has turned me into a whore! A married whore! 

Streaming tears were mingling with the rivulets of perspiration from the hot 
water all around her, and Anne sank back even deeper, vainly seeking the 
only warmth in reach. 

Oh, God, if only Bob were here! 

 CHAPTER 5 

Anne waited outside the door to room 1101, afraid of what might be waiting 
for her inside. All she could think of was that night with Pat and those two 
men-and Mrs. Home's threat to play the tapes for Bob. She had refused at 
first to come, even when Mrs. Horne renewed her threat, but she had been 
forced to finally give in. No matter what was waiting on the other side of 
that door, she knew she just couldn't let that tape recording be played 
again-not for Bob, not for anyone. Until there was another way out, there 
was no choice but to follow Alice Home's orders, no matter what. 

She reached out to knock on the door, then pulled her hand away, trembling 
like a frightened animal. 

I can't. I just can't. 

The steel elevator doors whirred open a few feet behind her. A bellboy 
dressed in white rolled a cart loaded with covered silver serving dishes, 
out into the corridor. 

Anne stepped away from the door and tried to disappear into the wall. 

"Ma'am, could I help you?" he asked, with that certain indefinable 
inflection found only in bellboys and waiters. 

"No! No..." She almost shouted her reply. "No, I'm fine, thank you." Anne 
turned away, hoping he wouldn't push the point any further. 

The bellboy gave her a bewildered look, then rolled his cart on down the 
hall, looking back halfway down, and shaking his head. 

It was then that Anne Hartley remembered again the awful truth: that she was 
nothing more than a hotel call-girl; that no matter what she called it, it 
still came out the same-she was a prostitute, plain and simple. She 
remembered that look the elevator operator had given her when she went up to 
wait for John Montgomery at the Adler Inn, and now the bellboy here at the 
Downtown Arms. There was no escaping it-the terrible truth kept popping out 
at her no matter how hard she tried to escape it. 

She thought quickly about the other girls in her classes at school. Some of 
them working at good jobs, some happily married and raising children. 

And that's the worst of all, she thought. How can I bring children into this 
world? How can 

I ever look my children in the eye, knowing what I am, what I have become... 

She felt her eyes getting moist, and she knew it was now or not at all. 

Either I knock on that door or I get out of here-and face the consequences. 

She gave it two light raps with the back of her hand. It opened only a foot 
and Anne heard a man's voice from inside. 

"Come on in, I'm on the phone." 

She stuck her head in first, then cautiously entered the room. A young man, 
not much older than her, she guessed, was standing by the window, his left 
hand holding the telephone receiver to his head. He was talking to someone 
about "assembly down-time" or something like that. 

Anne stood shyly beside the door, not sure what to do. After a couple of 
minutes he put the phone down, and turned to her, obviously mentally 
appraising her as he looked her over from head to toe. Anne felt as if he 
was undressing her, and she blushed. 

"Well, well. So you're my date for the evening. 'A wonderful girl for a 
simply wonderful night on the town'. I think that's what the lady said ... 
Right?" he asked sarcastically. 

Anne didn't like his attitude or the way he talked. "Listen, mister, I'm not 
too crazy about being here, so don't rub the wrong way, or you can find 
yourself another date." She surprised herself with her bravery. 

He looked at her with his mouth open. "Wow! What brought all that on ... I'm 
sorry if I said something to offend you." 

"That's okay," said Anne sheepishly. "I guess I'm just a little sensitive 
tonight. It wasn't your fault." 

"Good. We can start over, and do it right this time. I'm Dan Morson," he 
said, holding out his right hand. "And I hope your name is Anne, or I've 
made a hell of a mistake." 

Anne laughed. "No, I'm afraid the mistake would be mine. But you're right, 
my name is Anne." 

Dan helped her take her coat off, and draped it carefully over a chair. "Is 
that your whole name-just Anne. The lady at the agency wouldn't tell me any 
more." 

Anne hesitated before answering. There didn't seem to be any reason for not 
telling him her whole name. She wasn't listed in the phone book, and she 
certainly wouldn't give him her address. 

"There is a last name. It's Hartley. Anne Hartley. I guess Mrs. Horne 
doesn't give out last names so you have to go through her." 

Dan looked surprised. "You know, I didn't think of that. Of course, that's 
it. She'd be a pretty poor businesswoman if she did it any other way." He 
stared at her again, not saying anything, just looking. It made her nervous. 

"Have you been in town long," she said weakly, desperate for anything to 
make conversation. 

"No, only a little while. I'm here on business ... for the Ferguson 
Precision ... Oh, hell. You don't want to hear all that. Let me finish 
getting ready, and we'll go have some dinner. Don't want to waste any of our 
time, do we?" 

Anne wasn't too sure about the way he looked at her when he said that. She 
knew it was almost hopeless to even think such things, but maybe, she told 
herself, just maybe this date will be different. 

Dinner was at the Stage Lounge. It certainly wasn't the best place in town, 
but Anne wasn't complaining. It could have been a lot worse. Dan stuck to 
the small-town favorite-steak and baked potato, but Anne decided to try 
seafood. 

One thing for certain, Anne laughed to herself. At least I won't starve to 
death working for Alice Horne. 

They suffered through a very unfunny second rate insult comedian, then Dan 
asked for his check. She noticed he asked the waiter to please put it on two 
separate checks, and he would pay both of them. It didn't seem quite right 
to ask him about it, but Anne was curious, and the three drinks they had 
each downed before dinner made her a little bolder than usual. 

"I know it's none of my business, but why did you have the dinner put on two 
checks?" 

He looked like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Nothing 
crooked or anything like that. I hope that doesn't disappoint you. It's 
terribly honest, as a matter-of-fact. The company pays for my dinner but not 
for yours. I can hardly take you off as business entertainment, can I ? " 

"No, I guess not," replied Anne. "But you're the first person I've ever 
known who was honest about his expense account!" 

"I suppose you could say I'm a company man," laughed Dan. 

* * * 

Later, Anne could feel the cold chill of apprehension returning as they 
entered the elevator to go up to his room. But it didn't seem the same this 
time, and it wasn't just the drinks that were responsible. Somehow the 
prospect of going to bed with this stranger didn't seem as terrible as 
before. Anne was afraid to admit it, but she wasn't frightened of this man 
anymore. It wasn't that she had changed her mind about the job-it still was 
just as disgusting as before, only now she knew for her husband's sake she 
would have to face whatever happened and then just walk away. 

Dan flipped on the light beside the sofa, and turned the television dial 
selector to the piped music position. The room wasn't really a suite, and 
hardly compared to the one at the Adler. It was L-shaped, with a living area 
that occupied most of the space, and a bed and dresser tucked neatly away in 
the short side of the L. 

"Make yourself at home. I've got to write something down before I forget 
it," he explained, pulling a leather briefcase from the closet. He sat down 
at the writing desk, with his back to Anne. 

Anne was a little tipsy, but she could still think clearly enough to realize 
how absurd this scene was. They both knew what was next, and there was 
nothing she could do about it, except run. And that was out of the question. 
Especially now that this man had spent his money and wanted something in 
return. 

For courage, she poured herself another drink from the bottle of scotch 
conveniently placed on the table by the sofa and added a little soda water. 

My, my, she laughed, he's certainly thought of everything. 

She downed the drink in four good-sized gulps, and stood up to see if he was 
through with his note-taking, or whatever it was he was doing. But he wasn't 
at the desk; he'd gone into the bathroom. Anne could hear the water running. 

That last drink went straight to her head, for the room started spinning 
crazily when she stood up. She steadied herself on the edge of the table, 
nearly knocking the scotch over as she grabbed for something to hold herself 
up. 

The room slowly spun to a halt, and she let go of the table and stood erect. 

What the hell's he doing in there? He may have paid for my company, but that 
doesn't mean all night. 

Still no sound from the bathroom except the running water. 

Anne reached in back and unsnapped the catch at the top of her dress, and 
pulled the zipper down to her narrow, curvaceous waist. 

This is what he paid to see, so I'll show it all to him... 

Dan stepped from the bathroom just as Anne dropped her slip to the floor. 
She was standing in front of the sofa, clad only in her bra and panties; her 
dress, slip and panty hose lying in a pile at her feet. Her body was a 
golden brown in the subdued light from the one lamp burning in the room. 

Dan stopped short as if grabbed by some unseen hand, his eyes wide as he 
looked at her half-naked body. She had the figure of a young Venus, and the 
sheer whiteness of her two remaining garments only doubled the effect. Her 
firm breasts stood high over the cups of her bra, two wonderfully rounded 
mounds separated by a deep crevice, her pink nipples peeking ever so 
slightly over the top of her bra. Her firm, young body tapered gently to a 
trim, narrow waist, then flared again in the mellow fullness of her hips, 
with her white panties hugging tightly the outline of her hips and softly 
bulging buttocks. They were low-slung, and dipped in front as the elastic 
band crossed her flat belly, a few tiny, light pubic hairs slipping out from 
the bulging triangle barely concealed by her panties. 

Anne didn't move as he explored with his eyes every inch, every crevice of 
her young body. 

"Well, don't look so shocked," she said bravely, her hands on her hips, her 
breasts jutting straight out at him. "You paid for it ... its yours." She 
knew this evening would be like the other one, and the sooner it was over 
the better. 

"Now wait a minute ... I didn't expect it to be like this. I mean ... I 
expected a little fun first, you know..." 

"If you want moonlight and champagne," interrupted Anne, "You'll have to 
find yourself another girl." She couldn't believe the words were really 
coming from her. She sounded so cold and callous that it must have been 
someone else talking. 

"Well, you make it all sound so mechanical. Put a quarter in the slot, and 
hurry before your time's up. Is that the way it is with you ? " asked Dan. 

"No ... not usually..." Anne was fast building a lump in her throat. The 
hard-as-nails character wasn't her, and she was fast losing her tough 
facade. "But that's the way it is tonight ... take it or leave it." She only 
wanted to get it all over with and get out. 

Dan put down his drink. "Okay, sweetheart. We'll play your way. But just 
remember, it was your idea." 

Anne was frightened. Maybe her little game wasn't working. 

"What do you mean..." 

She was caught short as Dan pushed her roughly onto the sofa. "Just shut up 
and get ready," he spat at her. "The clock's ticking, remember?" 

He peeled off his shirt and undershirt, then his pants, then stood over her, 
looking down into her frightened eyes. With his crotch just a foot from her 
face, he pulled off his shorts, letting his long, thin prick hang down just 
inches from her trembling lips. He took it between two fingers and rubbed it 
a little. It wasn't hard yet, but he knew it wouldn't be but a few seconds. 
And his cock was one thing he was sure about-Peggy may have taken away Some 
of his manhood, and maybe Ferguson Precision took its share too; but hanging 
between his legs was the one part he had left. He watched her young 
voluptuous body quivering, lying on her back on the sofa, and slowly, in 
jerking movements, his penis came to life, snapping up higher and higher 
until it stood out straight from his hairy loins-almost eight inches long 
when he had a hard on. 

Anne watched it swell into its full, frightening length. She chilled at the 
thought of taking that long hardened shaft inside her. 

My God, that would go all the way through me! 

But she couldn't keep from noticing his build 

-lean and muscular, rock-hard all over, just like his stiff cock shooting 
out from his middle. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat anywhere on his 
hard body. Anne couldn't remember seeing any man with such an attractive 
body; in fact, outside of Bob, there hadn't been a man who really turned her 
on with just his body. 

Then she noticed the look on his face as his long cock waved just before her 
eyes. 

Oh, No! Surely he doesn't want me to... 

"Get down on your knees, baby. That clock's still ticking." 

Blindly obedient, she rolled off the sofa and on to the floor, her eyes not 
leaving his enormous cock for an instant. Still wearing her bra and panties, 
she knelt right at his feet. He stepped forward and pinned her with his 
steel-hard legs, holding her right in front of his cock as it swayed in her 
face. He gave a short thrust forward, his prick stopping less than an inch 
from her tightly-closed lips. She turned her head to avoid touching the 
throbbing head. 

"You said it, baby ... I paid for some action, and that's what I want. Suck 
it!" 

She shook her head violently, afraid to open her mouth to say no. 

But Dan wasn't in any mood to play games. He reached down and grabbed a huge 
handful of her soft blonde hair, knotting it tightly in his clenched fist. 
He could see her face tighten from the pain. 

"Now how about it!" 

But Anne shook her head again, this time trying to pull away. He twisted the 
handful of hair until she came off the floor. 

"Oh, please ... You're hurting me!" she cried. 

"It's nothing to what I'm going to do," he threatened. "Open your mouth!" 

She opened her lips just a little, but he tightened his grip on her hair. 
She could feel it starting to pull out, and opened it wide to ease the pain. 
As soon as it was open wide enough for the head of his cock, he loosened his 
painful grip on her hair, and rocked forward, slipping the first couple of 
inches between her wet lips and into the warmth of her mouth, letting the 
tip of it rest lightly on her tongue. 

"Now, look up at me," he ordered, standing above her like a giant. She 
looked up, his hard cock still between her lips. "That's better. Now, do I 
have to hold you by the hair, or will you behave and do this right on your 
own?" 

Anne had learned her lesson already. There was no use fighting it. It was 
better to get it over with than to put up a struggle. Her crotch ached as 
she remembered the two men from the night before and all the things they had 
done to her. 

She closed her lips over the smooth rubbery head in her mouth, and sucked on 
it amateurishly, like a child sucking an all day sucker. 

"Come on, you can do better than that. Put a little tongue into it." He 
pressed another inch or so into her mouth as he spoke, filling it so full 
she could barely breathe. 

Dan was a trifle disappointed. He'd been hoping she'd put up more of a 
fight. It would have been a pleasure to kick her ass around a little first. 
But it didn't matter-just watching this gorgeous young girl helpless at his 
feet, her lips ovaled around his cock was more than enough. Especially after 
sex with Peggy. With her it was always the straight "missionary position" 
and nothing else. All he had to do to set her off was to just try and go 
down on her, or worse still, try to get her down on him. That would be 
enough for a week of burned toast and few words. 

But now he was gonna' make up for all that. He pushed another inch into her 
mouth, slipping it wetly between her pursed lips. She gagged as he hit the 
back of her throat, and coughed until he had to ease it back a little. She 
tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out. 

He looked down at her, her blonde head sliding back and forth slowly along 
the length of his cock. He could see her full, firm breasts and her wide 
cleavage, partially hidden by her bra. Damn it, that's gotta go... 

"Take off your bra, and let's get a better look at those big tits of yours." 
She started to open her mouth wider and pull back off his prick. 

"Oh, no ... You just keep it up. You can reach behind and take that thing 
off without using your mouth." 

Anne slipped it back between her lips, licking around its rock-hard length 
with her saliva moistened tongue. She unsnapped her bra and brought her arms 
together in front, letting it slide to the floor. Her full, firm breasts 
bounced free and swayed from side to side as she sucked on his hardened 
cock, bumping against each other softly. Looking straight down, he could see 
her full, young tits clearly, one on either side of his long flesh shaft as 
it see-sawed relentlessly into her lipstick rimmed mouth. 

He placed his opened palms on each side of her head, and held her still as 
he began to pump rhythmically into her lips, his supersensitive cock sliding 
over her lower teeth and into the warm confines of her mouth. Her tongue 
sent chills of pleasure through his lower body as its rough surface rubbed 
along his prick. 

"Oh, baby ... that's good. Use that tongue ... Oh, yes..." 

He began to pump a little harder, each long stroke burying a little more of 
his long, stiff prick between her lips, gagging her every time it hit the 
back of her mouth. 

"That's it, baby. Now I'm gonna' give you some real meat to chew on." Dan 
was loving every second-this was the first time since high school that he'd 
really let his hair down and pulled all the stops. All those years of doing 
the right things, going to the right places, dating the right girls-those 
were so far behind him now he couldn't remember them. All he could think of 
was this half-naked young creature at his mercy and sucking hungrily on his 
aching cock, and he wanted it raunchy-the raunchier and grubbier it got, the 
better it would be. 

Anne was choking and gasping for air. The long fleshy penis slithered across 
her tongue and down into the sensitive passage of her throat. At first she 
thought she would choke to death as the long hard cock plunged deeply into 
her throat, but now the muscles were beginning to relax, and it slid more 
easily down over the back of her tongue. He pulled it back each time right 
to her lips, leaving only the tip brushing her lips, then he would lunge 
forward, tunneling the slippery shaft in until it bumped the back of her 
mouth where it bent just a little-enough to go down into the sensitive 
throat passage. It hurt him every time it bent-it was so hard and swollen 
that the slightest bend made it feel as though it were being broken in half. 
But it was worth it to slide the long beast down into her warm throat, 
making her choke and swallow to get it all in. Every time she swallowed the 
muscles massaged his bursting prick like a thousand little fingers, and he 
knew it wouldn't be long before it would explode in her throat-already 
little drops of semen were starting to ooze from the blood-red tips, and she 
could taste it mingling with the saltiness of his fleshy cock. 

He pulled it from her mouth, and held it at her lips, making her nibble at 
the oozing tip. Her head still hurt from where he pulled her hair, and she 
knew better than to pull away from him now. 

It felt so good he could hardly stand it. His balls ached with the pressure 
of his hot load, and it was getting harder and harder to hold it back. 

He played with her soft, nibbling lips as long as he could. Then let the 
swollen head slide back between the wet glistening lips and into her warm, 
eager mouth. He began the long slow movements, holding her head again 
between his hands and burying his lock cock right up to the brushy hilt in 
her mouth, his pubic hair tickling her as it brushed against her lips and 
chin. 

"Don't stop 'til I tell you to, you understand? Just keep on sucking ... 
you're doing fine, baby, just fine." 

She couldn't have answered if she had wanted to. The long prick was pumping 
faster and faster into her mouth, and it was all she could do to keep from 
choking again, and she knew she had to keep those muscles relaxed or the 
long, slippery beast would choke her. Again and again he smashed his hard 
cock down into her throat, past her lips and so deep it seemed to be 
burrowing right into her belly. She could feel the first twitching beginning 
deep in his loins, and she knew he was almost there. It was like a rumbling 
building deep inside him, and Anne knew that any second he would empty his 
balls down her open throat. But, oh God, there was nothing left to do! 

Dan felt the hot semen starting to lap over the floodgate in his balls. He 
eased his long, deep strokes. He wanted to feel every fantastic drop of his 
load shoot along the long, hard length of his dick and blast from the 
pulsing tip into her mouth. He wanted her to choke and swallow and milk him 
until there was nothing left-until every drop was sucked from his balls. 

He leaned back, thrusting smoothly down the soft passage of her throat, 
holding her head. 

Here it comes. Here it comes! 

He could feel the white-hot flood rushing out from his balls and up the 
stiffened length of his cock. He pushed it forward until every bit was 
buried in her throat, then gave one final lunge. 

"Oh, baby ... Suck it! Suck it ... NOW! Oooooh..." 

Anne sucked every hot sticky drop of it down her throat like a hungry 
animal. For suddenly, she thirsted for it like a dying man on the desert. 
She gulped it down in big swallows as it gushed into her mouth, her hands 
gripping his muscular buttocks and pulling his loins forward, her wet lips 
sucking every inch of his long cock into her throat. 

Half of her wanted to die-to crawl into a dark cave and never come out. But 
the other half was pure animal, and that half was firmly in control. There 
was no stopping her. 

She wanted every drop of his life giving sperm, and she sucked him until he 
was dry, milking wave after wave of the hot, white fluid deep down into her 
shaking belly. 

Dan's cock slithered from her mouth with a wet, sucking sound as he 
collapsed on the floor. Anne couldn't move-all the strength was drained from 
her body. She fell back against the sofa, a tiny white trickle of semen 
trailing from her lips. 

And she knew then she'd reached the very depths of depravity. There were no 
further depths left to go. 

 CHAPTER 6 

"Mrs. Hartley? This is Amos Ryan, with MARS." 

Anne answered the voice on the phone with amazement. "With who! MARS? What 
is this ... some kind of joke?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was your first call. We're the amateur 
radio net that works with the fellows in Vietnam. We pick up calls from 
Southeast and relay them to the folks back home. And that's why I'm calling. 
Are you the wife of Robert L. Hartley?" 

Anne froze with terror. "Oh, no ... Has something happened to Bob? Is he all 
right?" 

"Oh, of course, ma'am. He must be fine; in fact, he'll be talking to you in 
just a few minutes. As soon as the call is set up." 

"Talking to me? You mean, now ... right now!" Anne was leaping up and down 
like a high school cheerleader. "That's wonderful! Is he on the line now?" 

"No, no. It might take a while. You know, it isn't easy radioing telephone 
calls all the way from Vietnam. You just sit tight, and don't use your 
telephone. I'll ring you as soon as he's on the line. Okay?" 

She tried to sit down and wait, but the tension kept her going like a yo-yo. 
A few seconds in the chair, and then up for another cigarette. The seconds 
became minutes, and then an hour passed. 

It's been so long. I wonder how he'll sound? 

She thought about Mrs. Horne, and the awful mess she was in. But she knew 
she couldn't tell him. No matter how much she needed desperately to run to 
him, if only by phone. She couldn't think only of herself. And what could he 
do so far away? 

Those awful movies of the forties that pop up on the late show. She thought 
of those. How some poor guy had gone out into battle thinking about the 
"Dear John" he got, or the bad news from Mom. And she knew she wouldn't do 
anything to add even the slightest risk to the horror Bob was already 
facing. Even remembering for an instant the total degradation of the two 
nights she had suffered through made her breakfast begin to creep back up, 
but no matter how bad she felt, she knew it mustn't show in her voice. This 
was nothing to the way it would be without Bob-knowing that she might have 
helped him into a grave. 

She tried to clean up the apartment. Anything to make the minutes move even 
a little faster. 

Maybe he can't call after all. What if he's been sent out on patrol or 
something? It was as if he were so close, yet out of reach. 

Anne nearly leaped on the phone when it rang. 

"Yes, Bob is that you? Hello ... Hello?" 

It wasn't dead. She thought she could hear someone talking. 

"Mrs. Hartley, this is Amos Ryan again." 

"I'm right here. Have you got Bob yet?" 

"Just sit tight. Only a few seconds now ... And since this is your first 
call-it comes over the air waves, through a transmitting set-up on his end, 
and is picked up by a MARS operator like me ... And I patch it into the 
telephone here at my house. So remember ... well, remember you're on the 
air, and anybody with the right receiver can hear the conversation. So don't 
ask him any questions about his company, or troop movements or anything like 
this." 

"Yes, sir," Anne replied, "I'll remember." 

That solved the problem for me anyway, she thought. I couldn't very well 
tell him about this on the radio! 

"Hello, Anne ... Are you there, honey?" 

She could feel the tension unwind like an uncoiled spring. "Oh, darling, I'm 
right here. It's so wonderful to hear your voice..." 

At least she didn't have to hold back the tears. She tried to keep her agony 
out of her voice. And it was like talking with someone else's voice as she 
babbled on about the letter from Bob's parents, and how everyone was fine, 
and how much she missed him. And even about how much she hated working at 
Har-rell's. 

"If I can find something better, I might quit," she lied. It hurt. She'd 
never lied to Bob about anything. But it was the only way. And then in a few 
short minutes, he was gone-just as suddenly as he had come. 

The phone rang again, but she wasn't so lucky this time. It was Pat Desmond. 

"Hi, Anne. How are you?" 

"Fine. What can I do for you?" she replied icily. 

"Listen, sweetie. I'm sorry about the other night. I was a little drunk 
myself.. . And I don't know the whole story. Alice asked me to put the tape 
recorder under the bed. I even let Edmund in on it. She said it was some 
kind of practical joke. I didn't find out myself until today. One of the 
girls told me that's how she gets some girls to work for her ... I'm sorry 
... I really am..." 

Anne could hear her voice cracking. She sounded sincere, but she wasn't 
about to trust her twice. 

"Okay, so it wasn't your fault. Is that why you called-to apologize?" 

There was a pause at the other end. "Well, that's the main reason ... But 
there was something else. I'd rather not talk about it on the phone. Could I 
meet you someplace for lunch ? " 

It was tempting to just slam the receiver down, but maybe the trip downtown 
would be a nice change. 

"Okay, why not. How about that little place by the park. The one with the 
pastry shop." 

"That's fine. I'll be there at 12:30." 

It was unquestionably quite a puzzle. First the girl is a friend. Then she 
sets you up for blackmail. And then all of a sudden she's a friend again. 

Anne poured herself a hefty slug of scotch in a glass full of ice. She 
didn't really like scotch. But it had been in the cabinet over the stove for 
most of a year. Only lately it was disappearing. 

I've got to cut out this stuff. Bob's got a slut at home already; he doesn't 
need a drunk, too. 

She tried not to worry about what Pat wanted to say, but it seemed the 
smallest worry available-and probably the least painful. There wasn't 
anything she could do about the danger Bob was in, and there didn't seem to 
be any way out of her own battle. She knew she should be happy that Bob had 
been able to call-that for a few minutes, even, they could be a little 
closer. But somehow hearing him only made things worse. She knew she 
couldn't go through with another night like the last two. It was like he was 
nearer now, and that made doing the things demanded of her even more 
unthinkable. But that tape was never out of her mind-and there was no way 
out as long as Alice Horne had that tape. 

* * * 

Surprisingly, Pat looked much prettier than Anne remembered her, even in the 
harsh glare of the sunlight that splashed onto them from the plate glass 
window. It was hardly like meeting an old friend. And yet, Anne felt better 
about it than she had anticipated. At least it was someone she could talk 
to. Someone who wouldn't shriek and run from the whole sordid story. 

Pat was wearing her thick, black hair down again. Just as Anne remembered 
her when she stepped out into the light that night for Edmund. Only this 
time she was wearing a blue denim mini-skirt and orange jersey top. 

"If you don't mind, I think I will beat around the bush, Anne. This isn't 
easy for me, and it'll take a little getting used to." 

Anne was worried and curious before about this sudden meeting, but now she 
was afraid. Pat didn't seem the type that needed to summon up courage to 
speak. 

. . why don't you climb on? WHY DON'T YOU CLIMB ON?" 

Those words from the tape reverberated in her head. She was trying not to 
hate this woman. Not to strike out at her for all that had happened. 

Their lunches were already ordered when Anne remembered that this was the 
same table she had shared with Mrs. Horne-only a short time ago. It seemed 
like a hundred years. 

Neither really wanted to talk about the weather, and the latest Presidential 
press conference. But Pat was staying well back in the safety of the 
conversation. 

"Pat, you didn't come here to talk about this. Now you've had enough time to 
make up your mind. Do you have something to say to me or not?" 

Pat looked a little stunned. "Uh ... I guess you deserve a direct answer. 
I'm sorry . That seems to be all I can do today-apologize to you." 

She waited while the bus boy removed the dishes. 

"Christ, I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning ... Well, 
maybe not quite that far back-but three years ago, anyway. Things got pretty 
rough for me. No work for five months. And a no-good old man that ... well, 
that's another story. What I'm getting at is this. I'm not in this stinking 
business because I was blackmailed into it like you were. I made the choice 
myself ... Sure, I'd like to blame somebody else, but still, I didn't have 
to turn a trick to make a buck. There must have been something else." 

It didn't make things any better to hear Pat talk like this-like one whore 
to another. 

"Anyway, I got busted. In Cleveland. But since I was up for the first time, 
the judge gave me a suspended sentence. You got any idea how it feels to 
stand up in court and be sentenced for prostitution?" 

"I'm sorry, Pat ... I had no idea." 

"That's not necessary. like I said, there must have been another way. Only 
this was the easiest ... And then I came here. Thought maybe I could get 
away from my past, and maybe things would be different. But it didn't work. 
I got a job all right. Things were going great-and then some busy-body with 
the bonding company decided to check me out. Well, they found out about my 
record, and bingo-no job, no money. I'm right back where it all started. 
Then I found out about Alice's operation. I went to see her, she tried me 
out, and here I am. You see, it might seem like crawling in the sewer to 
you. But to me, it's at least one step above where I was." 

"But how can you say that? What's the difference?" asked Anne. "At least the 
girl walking the street is honest about it." 

"You're partly right. Only I suspect there's something you don't know ... 
It's like this-you haven't got to turn a trick with every guy you go out 
with. I mean, it's up to you. They pay for the date, and that's all." 

"What!? " cried Anne. "That isn't the way I heard it!" 

"Okay. Okay. Take it easy. Sure the guys kind of expect it. But Alice Horne 
is no dumb broad. She's not about to get busted by some undercover vice 
squad John. She never says a word to any of her customers about laying any 
of her chicks. That sort of thing gets around by word of mouth. But not from 
her." 

Anne wasn't able to say anything. Not that this really changed the picture 
very much. Even if she didn't have to be dragged down quite as deeply again, 
Alice Horne still had the tape. And nothing she did in the future could 
change what had happened in the past. Bob would never believe it if she told 
him it only happened once, and that the rest of the dates were just nice, 
clean sightseeing jaunts. 

"But don't get the idea that you can wiggle out of everything just because 
nobody promised these jerks a good screwing..." 

"Please, Pat," Anne interrupted. "Do you have to use that kind of language?" 

"Sorry. Hazard of the trade, I guess. What I was getting at is that you 
can't just tell your date to get lost. If he goes back to Alice and 
complains, she won't be too happy. And she can use that tape anytime she 
wants to." 

"Do you think she really would?" she asked. 

"I mean, what if she played it for someone and he went to the police." 

"Forget it. I know what you're thinking, and it won't work. She's not about 
to let anyone get his hands on that tape. And what proof have you got that 
she blackmailed you at all. What if she tells the police that you're out of 
your mind? That you're just sore because she found out about you going to 
bed with one of her clients, and she fired you. Don't forget, she's the 
widow of one of this town's pillars of respectability. She'd make you look 
like some kind of nut. And don't think any of the guys you go out with would 
co-operate. Those guys are all running around on their old ladies anyway. So 
what would all that get you. Your husband would know the whole story, and 
he'd hear that tape. And you'd get dragged through the slime by the 
newspapers. It'd be the biggest story in twenty years. But you would be the 
one to suffer, not Alice Horne. She'd come out clean as a load of laundry." 

"I guess you're right ... but it's still nice to dream about anyway ... Hey, 
did you bring me down here to tell me there's nothing I can do about this 
mess? If you did, you won't get any thanks from me." 

Pat almost seemed to loosen up for the first time. To become warm and 
sensitive. 

"No, Anne. That wasn't my reason. I wanted to tell you that I feel 
responsible for this and I want to help. Short of going back to jail-I 
wouldn't do that for my own mother-I'll do anything you ask to hang that 
bitch-excuse me, that woman." 

Anne was beginning to change her mind about Pat. She knew she mustn't let 
Alice Horne turn her sour on the whole world. "Thanks, Pat. You don't know 
how much that means for me. I've been facing this all alone for days, and 
it's killing me. There wasn't anyone to turn to. Bob called this morning 
through this radio network deal they have set up. But I couldn't tell him 
anything. He'd either never forgive me ... or go straight to the 
authorities. And my life would be over either way." 

"Well, don't give up yet. My twisted little brain is struggling to come up 
with a plan." 

"A plan! What is it? Do you know some way we can steal that tape ... Well, 
come on. Tell me!" Anne had nearly forgotten how it felt to be excited. 

"No, that's out. I'm sure it's locked in that safe in the floor. Right under 
her desk. I really don't have it worked out enough to talk about yet ... How 
long before Bob comes back from Vietnam?" 

"If his tour is the regular length, quite a while. Maybe six more months or 
so. Why?" asked Anne, puzzled. 

"No particular reason. It's just that she'd have a pretty hard time getting 
the tape to him while he's over there. I mean, you haven't told her much 
about him, have you ? " 

Anne flashed back to that lunch date. "No, not really. Actually, I hadn't 
thought of that. She just told me she would send it to him if I didn't 
co-operate." 

"Good," said Pat. "The less she knows, the better. I'm sure she could get 
his military address, but that would take a while. And she's banking on you 
to play it her way." 

"I still don't get it. If Bob were here, I might stand a better chance of 
explaining this to him. I just can't tell him while he's in Vietnam." 

"What makes you think he'd understand if he were right here?" asked Pat. 
"He'd have to be one hell of an understanding husband to listen to that tape 
and pat you on the head and say forget it." 

"I wish you hadn't said that," Anne said dejectedly. "I was beginning to 
have a little spark of hope." 

"Well, keep that spark fanned. I've got some friends-the sort of guys you 
probably don't even know exist. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can 
pull it off. Anyway, that's what I wanted to say. And you'd better believe 
it's hard for me. I gave up on people a long time ago. But if there's anyway 
out, I'll help you find it." 

 CHAPTER 7 

There must have been over a hundred servicemen on the stretched jet, but the 
service was nearly as good as any commercial carrier would have offered. 
This was a military charter, hired by the Army, and operated by a civilian 
company-complete with two stewardesses. Both were California girls-but they 
need not have told anyone. Their rich, brown tans and surfer-length hair, 
bleached nearly platinum by the sun gave them away. 

Bob Hartley was by the window, seven rows from the back. He couldn't help 
feeling a little guilty about coming home in such luxury. Most of the guys 
on the plane had pulled their hitches in the combat zone-some had even been 
back for more. But Bob knew he was one of the lucky ones-he was coming back 
early. They decided they would have more need for an officer with an 
engineering degree than an enlisted man with a couple of years of college. 
It had all happened so fast-he had been scheduled for a patrol, when without 
any explanation, he was dropped from the roster. Then came the orders to 
report to headquarters. And it was then that he learned he had been accepted 
for officer training-on the basis of his college records and his test scores 
on the OCS exams. But first, they had told him, he would go back to 
college-with financial assistance from the Department of the Army. Of 
course, he would have to re-enlist, and agree to serve a couple of years 
after he finished his education. But that was an easy decision for Bob. The 
Army had been pretty good to him-with the possible exception of sending him 
to Vietnam. It had not been nearly as rough as he had feared back when the 
draft notice arrived. Then, going into the Army seemed like the end of the 
world. His hopes for earning enough to finish school were smashed with one 
easy blow. But the hardest of all had been leaving Anne behind, after only 
three months of marriage. He could still remember her standing there on the 
passenger ramp at the bus station as he left for basic training. She was 
trying to be brave, but her strong front was slowly crumbling. He could see 
the tears about to burst from her eyes as the bus pulled away, leaving her 
there in the cold, wet morning-bundled under a scarf and a raincoat to keep 
out the chill. 

Looking so frightened and helpless-like an abandoned puppy. Bob had carried 
that memory through the arduous weeks of boot camp, and now, as he was 
returning home, it returned to his mind. 

The preparations for the trip home were so hastily carried out that Bob had 
not been able to find time to write Anne and let her know. But his flight 
was destined for Travis Air Force in California, and he was looking forward 
to calling her from there. 

Bob looked around at the others on the flight. It would have been difficult 
to find a happier bunch on any plane around. These guys were the lucky 
ones-they were coming home in one piece. There weren't any war wounded on 
this flight. Bob was rather glad there weren't. He just couldn't help 
feeling that he was cheating his buddies back in Vietnam by leaving ahead of 
schedule, but it was the Army's decision, he knew that. 

"Could I get you anything, soldier?" Bob snapped back to the present. One of 
the stewardesses was leaning over him. It felt pleasant, in a familiar sort 
of way, to be so close to an American girl-any American girl. 

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." He wished she would stay and talk. It would 
certainly help pass the time on the long flight. But he knew she must divide 
her time among all the guys on the plane. 

Bob peered out the tiny porthole of a window. But there wasn't anything to 
see. Only endless white cloud cover, broken once in a great while to show a 
patch of blue ocean miles below. 

One of the men told him it would be 0300 hours when they touched down at 
Travis Field, if the winds and weather held out. That would be awfully late 
to call Anne, but he figured it would be best. She would certainly be mad 
when she found out he had been back in the States even a minute without 
calling. 

He recalled how, before they were married, he had driven through the beach 
resort town where Anne and her parents were vacationing. Then, too, it had 
been in the wee hours of the night. But Anne had nearly blown a fuse when 
she found out later. "You should have called no matter what time it was!" 
she had fumed. No, Bob didn't want to bring down on his head that temper 
again. 

That was the only time he could remember Anne really losing her temper. But 
she was mad enough that time to etch the memory indelibly in his brain. She 
was usually pretty even tempered, maybe a little pout here and there, but 
nothing to complain about. 

They had dated for nearly a year before making plans for marriage, and never 
had a fight. They figured it must have been some sort of record, for all of 
their friends were continually breaking up and making up, and all of the 
sort of fights that usually go hand in hand with college romances. But Anne 
and Bob had seemed to be above that sort of thing. At least they liked to 
think so. 

But they became even closer when they were forced to stand together against 
her parents, when they did everything in their power to stop the marriage, 
short of physically blocking the aisle. 

Actually, there hadn't been an aisle. Only the hallway to the Justice of the 
Peace's office. Anne hadn't really wanted a church wedding. And although her 
father broke down and finally offered to pay for a imagine service in their 
own church, Anne had stubbornly refused. After all the things they had said 
about Bob, she wasn't about to go along with any big church wedding, just to 
salve their consciences. 

It was only a month after their marriage that Bob had quit school. Or 
"withdrawn temporarily" as the form from the records office stated. It was 
hoped that it would only be temporary, but Bob suspected from the beginning 
that the draft board would soon be on his heels. And, sure enough, it did 
not take them long. Three months at a drafting table in his brother's 
engineering office, and the notice arrived. 

James Hartley Company was well respected in civil engineering circles, and 
it was expected that Bob would join the firm as a junior partner after 
graduation. Jim hadn't been too pleased with Bob's decision to leave 
schoolespecially so soon after taking on the responsibility-or burden as he 
called it-of a wife. James had never married, and was as adept at avoiding 
the altar as any bachelor around. But he had been the first to remind Bob of 
the awesome responsibility of taking a wife-of the medical bills, and the 
food bills, and the clothes. But Bob and Anne had made up their minds, and 
nothing could change them. 

He didn't regret it for a second. Even when the money wasn't there, and they 
were forced to ration their last jar of peanut butter until the next 
paycheck. Jim wasn't particularly generous with the pay scale he offered, 
but Bob had not been in any position to argue. He remembered how he had said 
over and over again that "no wife of his was going to look for a job." But 
he had to admit that he had been pretty glad when Anne wrote that she had 
found a very nice job at Harrell's department store. She seemed pretty happy 
with it-at least her letters sounded that way. And it had made things a 
little easier in Vietnam to know that Anne did not have to worry about 
money. 

That last phone call had sounded pretty strange. It was the first time Anne 
had made any mention of being unhappy at Harrell's. And why all so suddenly? 

But that was nothing to worry about now. In just a few hours, he would be 
landing in California. And not much later, he would be knocking on the door 
to their apartment. There was still a lot of detail to be worked out about 
returning to college. The Army doesn't do anything without stacks of forms 
to be filled out in quadruplicate. But at least there was that month leave 
before anything else. And Bob would have swam home for that. 

 CHAPTER 8 

Anne looked around the lodge for Pat. It would have been a lot better if she 
were there, but she could see the other three girls from the dating service, 
and Pat was not one of them. 

This was the strangest assignment Mrs. Horne had handed her yet. Anne hoped 
she remember her promise-when Anne had protested another assignment, and 
refused to go, Mrs. Horne had assured her that this was not anything like 
the other two. 

But Anne was anything but certain about Alice Home's pledge, for the first 
thing she noticed after being let in were the four men sitting at the bar. 
She felt a cold chill run over her body as she remembered the other two 
dates. But there was some solace in the fact that there were three other 
girls here. 

Mrs. Home's promise had been that these men were not paying for sex. That 
she would find out what was expected of her, but that she wouldn't be going 
to bed with any of the men. It was still quite a puzzle, but after the first 
two assignments, it didn't look terribly frightening. 

The lodge was one of those "rent-it-by-the-night" deals. It had once been a 
small, private club, and was still lavishly appointed, although the 
furnishings were showing their age here and there. Anne could see that it 
had once been fabulously plush, and that the original owners must have had 
plenty of money. They had spared no expense in setting the place up. 

It was basically one large room, with what appeared to be a library 
connected at one side, and an enormous dining room and kitchen on the other. 
That side was easy to make out, as the floor-to-ceiling doors to the dining 
room were opened wide. The main room was easily forty feet square, furnished 
like most men's clubs anywhere, with rich, comfortable-looking leather 
chairs sprawled in no particular pattern. The carpet was showing its age 
more than anything else, but you could still feel its expensive deep pile 
beneath your feet. 

One of the girls from the service let her in. At least she assumed she was 
from the service. Alice had promised that there would be three other girls 
there. 

She was a pretty girl. Very trim with fantastically long blonde hair parted 
in the middle of her head. Anne couldn't help thinking she looked maybe a 
bit hippie. Of course, the jeans and the slightly-oversized man's shirt 
helped a lot. Even under the fullness of the cotton shirt, Anne could see 
that the girl was well-built, with the arching firmness that only a 
teen-ager could have. And two jutting points at the tips of her breasts made 
it pretty obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. The jeans were so tight 
that Anne suspected she wasn't wearing any underwear at all. Anne guessed 
she was about seventeen, maybe even sixteen. 

"Hi. Come in." The girl greeted her cheerfully enough. "You must be Anne. 
Everyone else is here. I'm Carol. Come on and I'll introduce you to the rest 
of the gang." 

Anne could see the other girls looking at her quizzically as Carol led her 
over to where they had all gathered. Absurdly enough, it somehow reminded 
her of her junior prom-with all the boys on one side, and the girls on the 
other. From what she had come to expect from Mrs. Home's little parties, 
this was pretty ludicrous. 

The other two stood up as Carol and Anne approached. 

"Anne, this is Betty and Gayle." They both smiled as they all exchanged the 
normal pleasantries. It was all getting more and more ridiculous. like a 
Sunday afternoon debutante tea. All that was missing was a tea service and a 
rose garden. 

"Uh ... are all of you working for Alice 

Horne?" Anne asked cautiously. This didn't seem like the right party. 

That question seemed to break everyone up. Anne felt like a textbook-case 
idiot. "Was ... was that not the right thing to ask?" 

Betty squeezed her arm affectionately. "No, no," she laughed. "It's just 
that you are obviously thinking just what we all thought as we came in. We 
were just talking about this set-up when you walked in ... that's all. We're 
with the service, all right. And you're right-this isn't quite what we all 
expected." 

"We're all as confused as you are," Gayle added, in a near-whisper. "Those 
are the men that paid for us all to come. And when Betty and I arrived-we 
were the first-they just took our coats and told us to make ourselves at 
home, and just have a good time. That was nearly an hour ago, and they've 
been at the bar talking about some fight on TV the whole time." 

"It's pretty wild, huh?" asked Carol. 

Anne felt a little better. At least, if this was the wrong party, she wasn't 
alone in her error. "Well, let's not knock a good thing. How about a drink?" 
Anne remembered the night with Dan Morson, and she figured she'd better 
start fortifying herself early this time. 

"You can be the brave one, if you want," said Carol. "We've all been just 
sitting here behaving ourselves, like we were told." 

Anne was about to build up enough courage to walk over to the bar and ask 
for a drink, when suddenly the conversation there stopped, and the four men 
turned toward the girls. For a long few seconds, no one said anything. Then 
one of the men, the youngest one, from his appearance, stood up. 

"Well, I see everyone's here. Let's see-Carol, Betty, Gayle, and Anne, if my 
memory serves me. Right?" 

The girls nodded in unison. 

"Well, just sit tight. Come have a drink if you like ... and we'll get the 
show on the road in just a few minutes." 

Get the show on the road? Anne thought. What did he mean by that? 

She didn't have to wonder very long, for just a few minutes later, one of 
the men left the bar and began to take some equipment from their cases in 
the corner. Ann could see a slide projector, a couple of boxes of what 
appeared to be slides, and a tape recorder. 

He seemed to be having difficulty putting it all together, and called for 
help from another man at the bar. 

Anne was talking all this time with Carol, or rather, listening to Carol, 
and trying to see what was going on at the same time. 

But the more the two men worked, the more confusing it all became. They 
placed the slide projector and tape recorder side by side on a table against 
the wall. Anne looked around for a screen, but there didn't seem to be one. 

One of the men switched the projector on, apparently to test it, and the 
opposite wall glared with the brilliant light. Everyone stopped talking and 
stared at the large rectangle of light, waiting for something to appear. But 
after a few seconds, he switched it off. 

Just then there was another knock at the door. 

More people! How many are coming!? 

Carol started for the door. 

"I'll get it!" shouted the youngest one, jumping to his feet. 

He opened the door quickly, and only wide enough to step through. But Anne 
caught a quick flash of at least three people outside. And they looked like 
girls. 

"Carol, did Mrs. Horne say anything about sending more than the four of us?" 
Anne asked. 

"No, she didn't" Carol replied. "I'm sure she said just four-Betty, Gayle, 
you and me. It doesn't make sense. And I'm going to find out what's going 
on!" 

"Me too!" added Anne. 

Marching over to the bar, they demanded, "What's going on here? We've been 
here much too long already, and now there are some more girls outside. Now 
we don't care what you've got up your sleeve, but we don't intend to sit 
here making conversation any longer. Just what is going on?" 

One of the men laughed. He was fairly attractive, obviously a desk worker. 
Anne could see that he wasn't used to hard work. 

"Whoa, hold on there, little tiger," he began. "You're right. You are 
entitled to know. And I don't see any harm in telling you ... To make it 
short, you girls are the entertainment. Ray's outside talking to our dates. 
It's just that simple ... no big mystery." 

"Entertainment!" shrieked Betty and Carol. 

"What do you mean-entertainment?" asked Betty. "We work for a dating 
service. Not a talent agency." 

"Yeah, that's right," added Carol. "I came along for a good time. Nobody 
said anything about entertaining. And just what did you have in mind, 
anyway?" 

The man doing all the talking hesitated at that. 

"Well ... I don't think you'll have any objections. At least, Mrs. Horne 
said you wouldn't." 

Anne could feel the implied threat in his voice. She knew that whatever they 
had planned, they were expected to go along, or answer to Alice Horne. 

"How would you girls like an extra two hundred dollars? That's what one of 
you will leave here with tonight." 

Two hundred dollars! Anne could hardly believe it. That was nearly enough to 
pay for the surprise she had been planning for Bob when he got home. With 
that money, plus what she had saved, the two of them could spend a couple of 
weeks in Hawaii. Anne had dreamed of that for months-ever since Bob left for 
Vietnam-as a surprise for his homecoming. It didn't matter what the men 
wanted-for that money Anne was willing to do almost anything. 

And why not, she asked herself. After the nights she had been through 
already, another didn't really seem so bad. 

"Ray and Stan have put together a little light show, girls," he continued. 
"Complete with music-San Francisco rock, even. And you girls are going to be 
the screen ... if you know what I mean." He laughed again, this time more 
lewdly. 

"The screen? I don't get it," said Betty, puzzled. 

Carol was standing squarely before the man, her hands on her hips, her 
dainty five-feet-four-inches looking ridiculous in front of the big man's 
hulking form. 

"Well, I get it," she said angrily. "What the nice gentleman is trying to 
say is that we're going to be over there in front of the projector while 
they cuddle up here with their dates. And correct me if I'm wrong, pal, but 
I don't think we'll be wearing a whole lot. Right?" 

She stood staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

"Actually, I had planned to let Ray tell you the details, but since you are 
in such a hurry-yes, you're right. And the girl who gives us all the best 
show takes home the money." 

Carol shrugged her shoulders and turned away. 

"If that's all, why didn't you just say so? You afraid of us or something?" 

The big man didn't answer, just turned back to his friends and poured 
himself another drink. 

Ray came in-alone-and told the girls to wait in the library. After a hasty 
conference with the others, he came into the room. 

"Bill tells me that you already know what to do. He said you didn't seem too 
happy about it, so I'm going to make it a little more pleasant. The money's 
now up to four hundred dollars. And if you're shy about stripping alone, you 
can do it in pairs or something. I'll let you work out the details. I'll 
come for you when we're ready." 

For another half-hour, the girls waited in the dimly-lit library, 
interrupted only once when Ray brought fresh drinks all around. They didn't 
talk much, only to decide that Carol and Anne, and Betty and Gayle would go 
on together. 

"You know ... it's kind of exciting. In an off-beat sort of way," 
volunteered Betty. 

"Yeah, you're right," Carol replied. "Anyway, it beats being pawed by some 
drunk aluminum door salesman from Omaha." 

Anne and Gayle both nodded agreement. 

"Have any of you ever done this before?" asked Anne. "I mean ... taken your 
clothes off this way. like a stripper?" 

The girls looked at each other. "I guess this is a first for all of us," 
said Gayle. 

"One thing I can't understand," added Anne. "Why would anyone pay this much 
for us to come and take off our clothes when they already have dates?" 

That seemed to strike a responsive note in Carol. 

"That's been bothering me, too. It does seem a little strange. But I guess 
we'll find out soon enough..." Carol pointed to the door as it opened wide. 
Ray was standing there, his right arm around a girl. Anne couldn't see 
anything but their outlines against the glare of the projector, already 
flashing strange slides onto the wall. The music came on, after a few 
seconds of loud pops and crackles from the recorder. Anne recognized it 
immediately as a big San Francisco rock group. And it sounded like a live 
recording. 

Blinking a few times to adjust to the harsh lighting, Anne looked around the 
large room. The other three men were sitting with their dates, two couples 
on a large red leather sofa, and the third sharing a deep Naugahyde chair. 
Anne didn't recognize any of the girls. They all looked young-maybe even 
high school girls 

-but they were all very good-looking. At least what she could see of them. 

Anne felt incredibly embarrassed-like some kind of side show freak. And 
suddenly she felt the urge to run-that same feeling she had felt when John 
Montgomery put his hands on her that night in his room. She wanted to race 
for the door, and down the country road to the highway. To get as far away 
from all this as she could-but she knew she wouldn't. She knew that whatever 
was to come would come-as long as those tapes were in Alice Home's safe. 

I can't take off my clothes in front of these people! 

Anne wasn't sure whether it was knowing there were other girls sitting there 
watching; but she suddenly knew that she just couldn't do it. To stand in 
front of these men and these girls and take off all her clothes was just 
impossible. 

"Carol," she whispered, "I can't go through with it. I just can't!" 

Carol squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, Anne. I think I smell 
help on the way." 

Anne was sure she must have misunderstood. "What! Did you say smell?" 

"Oh wow," laughed Carol, "You're straighter than I thought. Just take it 
easy. Everything's going to be fine. Really fine." 

Anne wracked her mind trying to decipher Carol's meaningless words; and 
suddenly it hit her! That sickeningly sweet cloud hanging over the room! 
It's marijuana! 

Anne had been in the same room with it before, at a party while she was 
still in college. She remembered how a few of the guests had gathered to 
themselves in one corner of the darkened room, and how she had tried to 
steal a glance at them from time to time. She remembered how they began to 
laugh more and more-how the slightest joke set them off on a fury of 
giggling and laughing. And how they were the first couples to slip 
unobtrusively away to the bedrooms. That was the part Anne remembered best. 

"Why don't you girls join the party for a while," invited Ray. "We'll have 
the entertainment later." 

The pungent odor grew stronger as Anne walked out into the center of the 
room. She could see three red-hot pinpoints glowing around the room as the 
hand-rolled marijuana cigarettes were passed from hand to hand. The 
brownish-gray cloud hanging over grew thicker and thicker. 

Anne didn't really have any strong feelings about grass one way or the 
other. She knew a lot of her friends smoked it, and she had always figured 
she might try it one day. 

And this looked like as good a time as any. 

One of the girls climbed out of her chair and came over. 

"Care for a little?" she asked, holding out a thick joint in her left hand. 

Carol didn't need a second invitation. "You bet," she replied. "I though 
you'd never ask." 

She held the stubby cigarette between two fingers and took a long, hard 
draw-holding the smoke as long as she could. It seemed that Anne could 
actually see her relax from just the one puff. Carol handed it to Anne, 
almost absent-mindedly, without asking her first. 

"I've never smoked this stuff before," Anne admitted. But Carol only 
shrugged. 

"What difference does that make? Take some, you'll feel a lot better." 

Anne held it a moment, eyeing it nervously. 

"Don't let it all burn away!" exclaimed Carol. 

Anne took it to her lips and inhaled slowly and deeply, filling her lungs 
with the sweet smoke. It burned going down and she coughed a little. 

Nothing happened, and again she took a puff. The joint worked its way back 
around a third time, and Anne took an even deeper drag on the grass. 

Then the tingling began-first just the tips of her fingers. And then her 
toes. It made her want to giggle, but she held it back. And 
finally-slowly-the relaxing tingle eased its way through her body, releasing 
all her muscles along its path. She felt very warm and good-like cuddled in 
front of a roaring fire. And the music began to sound better and better; 
swelling in a steady crescendo. 

* * * 

The stewardess from California brought Bob his second vodka and tonic. 
Somehow it tasted better than it ever did in Vietnam. Maybe it was knowing 
that he was only two hours from touchdown; and then only a few hours by bus 
back home. 

It seemed that the clock was slowing down more and more the closer he got. 
Bob adjusted for the time zones-trying to figure out what time it would be 
at that very moment at home. 

Ten forty five Pacific Standard Time. 

Bob finished the drink and placed the plastic container on the shelf in 
front of him. He tried to imagine Anne at that very instant-maybe preparing 
for bed, her hair in curlers, her young curves completely hidden under that 
old robe she always insists on wearing. Maybe having a last-minute snack 
before the late movie, curled up on the sofa. 

He glanced again at his watch. Still the same time. Not even ten forty-six! 

He was sure the plane was bucking a two-hundred knot headwind. It seemed to 
be standing still in the sky over the Pacific. 

* * * 

The lights around the smoke-filled room were out, and the only illumination 
came from the slide projector against the opposite wall. Ray had adjusted it 
to automatic, and one by one the weirdly colored slides popped into the 
projector, flashing a myriad of reds, blues, yellows, and greens and every 
shade between onto the figures of two young girls undressing to the rhythm 
of hard San Francisco acid-rock blaring through the twin stereo speakers. 
Every eye was strained for a better look as Carol and Anne together began to 
slowly take off their clothes. 

There could be no mistake about it-they were both completely "stoned." Anne 
could see nothing but the harsh circle of light from the projector 
lens-constantly changing color and intensity. The colored images-ever 
changing-splashed across the two girls and onto the wall behind them. It was 
hard to make them out in the crazy maze of colors, blobs of every hue that 
fused and ran together to form even weirder shapes and colors across their 
still-clothed bodies. 

Anne could hear all the voices in the roombut they were garbled together in 
her drugged mind as one; and they seemed to be a million miles away. She was 
staring with glazed eyes directly into the lens of the projector. It was as 
if the opening were a tunnel-a wonderful, exciting colorful tunnel and she 
was sinking deeper and deeper into it. And the deeper she sank, the brighter 
the colors became and the louder the music grew. With each second the rock 
band seemed more real, as if they, too were right beside her in the room. 

She couldn't remember how many joints had been passed around, only that she 
had taken as many puffs from each one as she could. And the 
consciousness-expanding drug was certainly taking effect. 

Is was as if her body were alive-not alive in the usual sense, but alive on 
its own, with its own mind and its own senses, completely apart from her 
own. She could sink comfortably into her own mind, and allow her body to do 
anything it wished, without any conscious effort on her part. 

"C'mon, sweetie, take it off!" yelled a voice from the darkness. "Yeah, 
let's see some flesh!" 

Anne and Carol danced in time to the ever-building music, the drug 
strengthening its hold on them. 

"Oh, Christ I'm wiped out!" exclaimed Carol to no one in particular. "There 
must have been some hash in that last joint." 

Anne didn't know what she meant, but she did know that she was slowly losing 
all control of her mind and body. 

The four men were all on the edges of their seats, eyes wide with 
anticipation as they watched the two young girls writhing suggestively with 
the music. 

Carol began to unbutton the buttons on her shirt, and the tension tightened 
in the hot room. One by one she released them, and her teen-age firmness 
began to come into plain view of the four men and four girls sitting around 
her. 

As she released the last one, she pulled the fabric slightly apart. Not 
completely open, but enough to expose the creamy whiteness of her ripe, 
young breasts as she swayed from side to side. She was deep-brown tanned, 
and the whiteness of the twin firm mounds was accented even more as they 
stood out on their own from the tanned flesh around them. 

They were large, but not overly-large. And with characteristic teen-age 
firmness, they jutted out proudly, her nipples hard and rigid and pulsing 
with excitement as she felt every eye glued on her eager young body. 

Anne began to lose herself in the lewd fever of seeing Carol undressing in 
front of all these strangers, and as Carol pulled her blouse down over one 
shoulder, Anne perversely lowered the zipper of her skirt, letting it fall 
provocatively to the floor. 

Stepping out of it, she tossed it aside, flinging her arms high in the air 
as the deafening music swelled, as if on cue. She wasn't wearing a slip, and 
she stood before them now wearing below only her panty hose and panties, her 
long, supple legs curving smoothly from the whiteness of her panties, barely 
covering the soft mounds of her buttocks that were half-revealed where they 
joined her thighs. 

As she danced, she leaned back, her hair flying loosely behind her, her 
long, firm legs spread wide. You could feel the atmosphere tighten as every 
man locked his eyes on the dampness between her opened thighs, a slightly 
bulging protrusion fringed with the traces of light blonde pubic hair that 
curled downward out of the panties. 

She stood up straight, her hands in the small of her back, then began to 
slide them slowly down over her firm buttocks that seemed about to burst 
through the thin cloth. Down over the rounding buttocks she slipped her 
hands, catching the elastic band of her panty hose and rolling the 
transparent fabric down over the mounds of her buttocks, leaving only the 
thin panties. In a moment, they were at her knees-a few seconds more and 
they had joined the skirt, leaving her blouse and bra but only the panties 
below her trim waist-panties so thin that those in the room could see the 
sparse, soft mound of pubic hair at the junction of her thighs-a fleecy 
light triangle that showed everyone her blonde hair was real. Her hips 
ground in time with the music, thrusting first forward, then back in a slow, 
sensuous circle, taunting ... teasing ... inviting someone-anyone-to step 
forward and pull down the flimsy material over the warmth of her aroused 
flesh. The drug and the music had her completely in their power-and now she 
was helpless to stop. 

She wanted to turn away-to grab up her clothes and escape before it was too 
late. But the time for that had long ago slipped by. Nothing could stop her 
from what was to come. 

Her skin tingled as if a thousand needles were pricking her, and her body 
trembled at the realization of what she was doing. She singled one man from 
the group-the one called Bill, and motioned suggestively for him to come to 
her. She could see that he was already aroused, for when he stood up, his 
erect cock bulged out in front of him; and he squirmed to maneuver it back 
into place. 

For long seconds she stared at him, directly into his eyes, her lips ovaled 
and moistened by her tongue that swirled slowly around, her pelvis still 
sensuously grinding in a tight circle. 

"Take them off," she ordered, eyes widening all over the room. 

She thrust her hips out directly at him and stretched the elastic band of 
her panties so there would be no doubt what she wanted. 

Bill wasted not a second. He dropped to his knees at Anne's feet, and 
grabbed the garment fiercely with both hands, ripping it down to her knees. 
A chorus of gasps went up as suddenly she was completely naked from the 
waist down, with not a thread between her luscious, eager body and the eyes 
of the four men watching intently. 

She hadn't been prepared for his rough handling, and she stepped back away 
from him as her panties dropped to the floor, ripped nearly in half. 

"No ... no! I can't!" The drug had lost its grip, but only for a second. As 
she stepped back, an arm shot out from the darkness and pressed another 
thick joint to her lips. Without hesitation, she took a deep drag. There was 
safety and shelter in the "grass," and she wanted as much of it as she could 
get. Another puff, and all was well again. 

Anne twirled round and round with the music, watching the kaleidoscope of 
colors flash by. 

Numbly, without even knowing, she began to unbutton her blouse, clumsily 
manipulating the tiny buttons. She pulled it off and tossed it with the 
rest, leaving only her white bra. The men were all on their feet, unaware 
for the moment that their dates even existed, for every gaze was fixed on 
Anne's inviting young body, and every mouth was dry as they watched her 
perverse show in eager anticipation. 

The excitement was overwhelming. Anne felt as if a million eyes were 
watching her-as if she were the only woman on earth, and every man was 
staring at her, mad with desire for her body. The drug had her wrapped in 
its spell, and her body grew hotter and hotter with maddening passion-a 
passion that cried out for fulfillment. 

She bent over forward, her soft, rounded buttocks thrusting nakedly up 
behind her, and released the hooks on her bra. 

like a broken spring the tension in the smoky room snapped as the one 
remaining garment fluttered to the floor, leaving her completely nude in 
front of everyone. 

The blaring music was pounding like an air hammer, drowning out everything 
in its path. And every driving beat was like adrenalin to Anne-pushing her 
harder and harder, climbing higher and higher, like an orchestra's 
crescendo. 

With every ounce of her soul, Anne danced faster and faster with the music, 
her arms high above her flailing the air, her pelvis twisting madly, her 
smooth, tapering legs grinding at the floor. Her eyes were closed, her 
nostrils flared, and her hair tossed behind her like a wild mane. 

Anne could feel nothing but the music and the heat of the projector beaming 
across the room, her body a quivering mass of raw nerves from the drug. 

For a split second, she opened her eyes, and saw that Carol, too, was naked, 
her body writhing and twisting even faster, like a wild savage. 

For a few long, almost endless minutes, everything faded away for Anne, as 
the music roared in her ears like a new drug, lifting her higher and 
higher-away from the lodge, away from everything. 

When she opened her eyes, she found that she and Carol were not alone in the 
flickering light of the slide projector. One of the girls, a busty brunette 
with close-cropped hair had joined them. 

She seemed even more "stoned" than either Anne or Carol. And she wasted no 
time getting out of her clothes. With two quick, deft movements she climbed 
out of her stylish jumpsuit and shoes, capturing the spotlight for herself 
as she danced wildly in only her panties and bra, her enormous breasts 
bulging over the delicate white fabric, the soft, pink crescents of her 
nipples just barely peeking over the top. She leaned far forward when her 
hands went in back to release the straining garment. 

As the bra dropped to the floor, her large breasts fell free, dangling 
beneath her, swaying from side to side as she danced, churning with the 
polished ease of a professional dancer. 

Soon they were joined by Betty and Gayle, looking out of place with their 
clothes still on. But they were quickly caught up in the action, and Anne 
slipped out of the light as they began to remove their skirts." 

Her mind was running wildly, like a movie out of control. A dozen different 
memories were all at once flashing in front of her eyes-people, places, 
dreams-all fusing together in one dizzying, whirring kaleidoscope of twisted 
images. 

She thought of Bob-thousands of miles away, maybe caught in a burst of enemy 
gunfire in some nameless, God-forsaken jungle. And suddenly she couldn't 
hold back the tears. In a piteous cascade they came-running down her cheeks, 
already damp with perspiration, stinging her reddened eyes. Anne felt lower 
and cheaper than ever before, filthy and tarnished and not fit for any 
decent man again. 

Alone in the darkness she stood, unwatched and unnoticed by the others, 
quivering with shame and self-pity, her naked body trembling from head to 
foot. But something kept her from running away-it would have been easy to 
slip out without being seen. No one would even miss her. But some almost 
unfelt force, some magnetism, kept her drawn to this room-nothing she could 
pin down, but somehow it seemed terribly exciting. And behind the tears, a 
part of her she did not recognize was growing inside-a part of her she would 
have liked to hide away, but couldn't. The drugs, the soul-pounding beat of 
the blaring music, the girls dancing like harem girls before their 
master-their young, ripe luscious bodies writhing an invitation that 
couldn't be misunderstood... 

Anne opened her reddened eyes and looked toward the circle of colored light 
where Betty and Gayle were supposed to be. 

Oh, my God! What are they doing? 

Anne clasped her hand to her lips to keep from making a sound, but it was 
all she could do to keep from screaming for them to stop, for something was 
happening that she wouldn't have believed were she not watching with her own 
eyes. She blinked a few times, shaking her head, to be sure that it wasn't 
an hallucination brought on by the drug. 

Gayle was bent over at the waist, completely stripped, her taut buttocks 
thrust out behind her, and her large, resilient breasts hanging low beneath 
her body, bouncing from side to side and against each other as she swayed. 
Her mouth was open, her teeth nearly bared, and a long, low almost animal 
sound was coming from her throat, for behind her, Anne could make out, even 
in the flashing colors, the form of another girl... 

Betty was on her knees, still wearing her white panties, so starkly 
contrasted against her well-tanned body, her face just inches away from the 
other girl's quivering buttocks. Everyone was glued to the incredibly 
arousing spectacle. Even the girl who had joined Anne and Carol earlier was 
sitting cross-legged against the wall, mindless of her own nakedness, just 
watching with wide-eyed amazement the two girls in front of the lights. 

Dazed, Anne walked over to where Carol was sitting on the carpeted floor and 
sprawled beside her, her eyes not leaving the two girls for even an instant. 

Someone adjusted the slide projector, and the bewildering barrage of colors 
became one steady hue, first a deep blue, then a near-black purple as the 
slides changed, and finally, a scorching red, so bright that it seemed to 
warm the room, turning the two girls into a pair of crimson surrealistic 
figures. 

A collective gasp went up from the ten pairs of eyes watching in 
astonishment as Betty slipped her tongue from between her lips and brushed 
it lightly against the shivering, wet folds of soft flesh surrounding the 
opening to Gayle's open pussy, sending a sharp chill of excitement through 
her like an electric jolt. 

Slowly, up and down the quaking, moist lips she trailed her long, hard 
tongue, brushing the sensitive flesh tantalizingly, each contact bringing a 
snapping, reflexive jerk from Gayle's body. 

Then Betty picked up the rhythm a little, licking in long, slow movements 
that lapped from the budding, delicate nodule of her clitoris, along the 
warm, wet slit of her vagina to the tightly-puckered ring of her anus, the 
hard, brown circle clenched shut as if to keep out this intruder on its 
privacy. 

All along the sensitive crevice she lightly slithered her probing tongue, 
slowly and skillfully picking up the tempo, making her long strokes harder 
and deeper as they grew faster. 

Gayle was growing weaker as the hot flames of wanton desire burned away her 
strength-she was unable to hold herself up in her bent-over position. 
Suddenly she dropped to her knees, catching herself on her palms. 

But Betty didn't miss a beat. Almost as if it were rehearsed, she dropped 
onto all fours, her face still buried in the moist warmth of Gayle's hungry 
cunt, probing gingerly at the wet, open hole with her tapered tongue. 

What a sight the two girls made for the onlookers-the two of them on their 
hands and knees, Gayle glassy-eyed with desire, her mouth hanging open; and 
Betty licking lustily at her inflamed passage, seemingly as wild with 
passion as Gayle. 

Her mouth opened wide as if about to scream, but only a deep, throaty moan 
came out, as if from her very soul. And in an instant, everyone in the room 
could see why-Betty's long tongue had found its mark, and was squirming its 
way further and further into Gayle's hungry, grinding pussy. First, a slow 
rolling motion around the wet opening, and then deep inside, as far as the 
long, fleshy tongue could reach, her nose in the warm lips of Gayle's 
vagina. 

like the fleshy forked probe of a serpent, Betty's tongue lashed out faster 
and faster, each thrust tunneling its way into her yearning young cunt. 

Anne looked around her at the others. It was fast becoming an orgy, to no 
one's surprise. She couldn't make out any of the couples clearly, but from 
the giggles and squirming movements apparent all over the room, it was only 
too obvious what was happening. 

She felt as though she should be repulsed by all of this, that it should be 
somehow filthy and disgusting to see so many people giving in to their lust 
and unbridled desire. But it didn't affect her that way at all-instead of 
repulsion, she felt instead a dull, aching deep in her belly-the 
unmistakable pain of a woman in need. She squinted to steal a peek at the 
couple directly opposite her, and even in the darkness she could see the 
definite shape of the man's fully erect cock, standing up straight as an 
arrow from his loins. And in the dim reflected red light, she could see that 
the girl snuggled beside him was stroking it, up and down its full length, 
almost in perfect time with Betty's thrusting tongue just a few feet away, 
burrowing into Gayle's hot grinding vagina. 

She could feel the aching of desire grow more intense watching the man's 
large, thick cock bucking under the girl's grip, her fingers barely circling 
the heavy shaft. The girl's pumping fist moved faster and faster, up the 
long cock to the swelled tip, then back to the bushy clump at its base. 
Harder and harder she pumped his throbbing penis, until finally, after a few 
minutes, Anne heard a trio of short, staccato gasps and saw the man fall 
back against the chair, his bulky cock now like soft clay in the girl's 
fingers. And she could see the tell-tale white puddle on his bare leg, 
oozing down his hairy thigh-and she knew it was over for the moment, for him 
at least. 

Betty had lowered her head just a little, and now, instead of licking at 
Gayle's tender, moist passage, she was nibbling on the sensitive bud of her 
clitoris, rolling the delicate bundle of nerves between her teeth, sucking 
it into her mouth. Gayle was obviously nearing her climax, her back arched, 
her mouth half-open, her head tossed back... 

Suddenly Anne became aware of a hand on her bare leg, a hand that was gently 
and tenderly rubbing her naked flesh. She tried not to show her concern, but 
glanced from the corner of her eye. Carol was still at her side, and still 
watching Betty and Gayle intently, but her right hand was slowly rubbing 
Anne's thigh. 

Then, as if she had received her cue, Carol began to edge cautiously along 
the smooth, soft skin of Anne's upper thigh, each gentle stroke moving 
further and further along the curve of her leg toward the inside. 

Anne tightened involuntarily, and Carol's touch instantly became lighter. 
And when she relaxed, the smooth, caressing strokes began again. 

She wanted to stop her, but Anne was too embarrassed. She felt as if 
everyone were watching, as if she, too, was part of the show. 

Her cheeks reddened as Carol slipped her fingers down between Anne's tightly 
shut legs. Without knowing why, or wanting to know, Anne relaxed them just 
slightly, but enough to allow Carol's small fingers to slip around the 
fullness of her tender thigh. And there they stayed for several minutes, 
delicately caressing the soft flesh just inches below the junction with the 
rest of her body. 

Anne felt a strangeness sweep over her body-a feeling she had never before 
experienced. Never in her life had another girl touched her in this way. Not 
even when she was a small child had a girl caressed her like this. And the 
sensation was entirely new-it wasn't like when a man caressed her, but it 
wasn't unpleasant, either. It was an overwhelming, totally different 
feeling, and Anne found it forbiddingly exciting. 

She relaxed her legs a little more, and Carol took her signal without 
hesitation. Further up the soft inner thigh she eased her fingers, gently 
kneading the delicate flesh between them, until she was only an inch away 
from Anne's slowly awakening pussy. 

Anne felt the wetness growing between her thighs as Carol continued her 
caresses. She was sure that it would stain the carpet, so great was the 
dampness. 

Carol slipped a finger in the crevice between her upper thigh and her 
pelvis, and traced the crack down between her legs, until her fingers were 
gingerly brushing the fleshiness of Anne's buttocks, just beneath her 
vaginal slit, sending shivers throughout Anne's entire body. 

Then, without warning, Carol eased her middle finger up along the slit of 
Anne's cunt, and shoved it quickly into the tight opening, as far as it 
would go between the soft, fleshy walls of the waiting pussy. 

Anne jerked instinctively, but was ashamed to look toward Carol. Instead she 
looked away, biting her lip in an effort to regain her composure. In a 
moment, she could relax again, safely recovered from the initial shock of 
another girl's finger being buried in her vagina. 

In the circle of flame-red light, Betty had her arms locked tightly around 
Gayle's thighs, her face buried in the wetness of her pussy. Suddenly, 
Gayle's mouth opened wide, and hung there for a few long seconds as everyone 
waited for what they all knew was about to happen. And then it all broke 
loose-Gayle let loose a loud, shattering cry that seemed to literally fill 
the room. On and on went the scream of ecstasy, as her juices streamed from 
her wildly quivering vaginal hole, drenching Betty's lips and tongue and 
coursing down her thighs. As her mournful moan finally subsided, she fell 
forward on her chest, squashing her large, soft breasts beneath her as she 
fell, and lay sobbing, in a crumpled heap on the carpet. 

Someone cut the music back on, and most were aware for the first time that 
it had been missing. 

Carol wiggled her upraised finger around in Anne's wet cuntal passage, 
moving it from side to side, curving it upward so that it rubbed against 
just the right spot. 

Anne leaned back on her hands, her legs spread wide on the floor. She had 
lost the feeling that everyone was watching, and she felt safe and secure in 
the darkness. No one seemed to care about being entertained, and around the 
darkened room everyone seemed to be making their own entertainment. 

Carol's finger felt good in her pussy, and Anne was beginning to admit it to 
herself for the first time. It didn't seem wrong anymore, just exciting. And 
Anne was ready for anything exciting, anything wild and abandoned. For 
nothing seemed wrong anymore, nothing seemed taboo. Anne felt like doing all 
the things she had always thought were bad, like a caged animal that had 
just been let free. 

"Ohhh, that's it," she murmured to Carol, not caring who heard. "Oh, yes ... 
don't stop ... don't stop!" 

Anne began to feel it coming-a welling deep inside her that surged in time 
to Carol's probing finger-each deep, thrusting jab bringing her closer and 
closer to an orgasm. And then it came, a quick over-powering emotional peak 
that was gone almost as quickly as it came, but was like gasoline poured on 
the flames inside her. 

"That felt so good ... so good..." was all she could gasp out. 

"Sh-h-h ... everyone will hear," whispered Carol in her ear. 

"Who cares. Let them hear," she replied, opening her bare legs as wide as 
she could, her hips sliding back and forth on the carpet, thrusting to meet 
Carol's probing finger. 

She leaned back even further, and her buttocks came off the floor, her back 
arching toward Carol's exploring fingers. 

Someone changed the tape on the recorder, and the mood changed again. This 
time it was soft and subdued, a harsh contrast to the loud rock sounds. The 
projector was still beaming a circle of red light against the 
wall-uselessly, because all the action was elsewhere. Anne couldn't see 
either Debby or Gayle, but she could easily imagine what they were doing 
somewhere in the darkened room. 

So completely caught up were Carol and Anne that they failed to hear anyone 
come near them. 

"Uh, excuse me ... is this a private party, or can anyone play?" 

Carol jerked her hand away from between Anne's widespread lips, snapping her 
head toward the voice. 

"What the hell do you mean sneaking up on us like that?" she demanded, as if 
what she had been doing was completely normal. 

"Take it easy," came the reply, and as the outline of a man leaned forward, 
then settled beside the two of them. I didn't mean any harm. I was just 
wondering if maybe you needed a little help." 

He didn't wait for a reply. 

"Come here, you good looking things." 

With one huge arm around Carol, and the other around Anne, he pulled the two 
naked girls over on top of him, collapsing backward onto the floor. Carol 
was giggling like a schoolgirl on her first date. 

"Hey, what are you doing. I..." Anne was cut short as he planted his lips 
firmly on hers, his tongue thrusting between her teeth and into the warm 
shelter of her mouth. 

She was lying flat against him, her breasts smashed on her bare chest. With 
fantastic strength, he pulled her up further onto him. It was only then that 
she noticed he was nude. It had been too dark to tell before, but there was 
no doubt about it now. He had Carol pulled against one side, and Anne on the 
other, as he lay on his back on the floor. Anne could feel his enormously 
thick penis pressed against her leg. It felt like a thick, lead pipe-and 
every bit as hard. 

His hand slid down her bare back and into the crevice of her backside. He 
wasn't wasting any time. His reach was just long enough-down the crack of 
her buttocks and into the warm, wet slit of her pussy. 

Anne couldn't see, but his other hand was on Carol's gently squirming 
nakedness, squeezing the firm, ripe mounds of her buttocks between his 
strong fingers. Anne felt something moving against her leg, and knew it was 
Carol's hand clenched around his huge prick. Her tiny fingers barely came 
together around the thick shaft. 

He stopped kissing her, and turned to Carol but not releasing his vise-like 
grip on Anne. She squirmed to get away, but it was hopeless. He held her 
pinned with one hand, like a cat holds a trapped mouse before the kill. 

"Come on, why don't you just let me go?" she begged. "And anyway, you don't 
need both of us ... Why don't you let go, and I'll go away and leave you two 
alone." She figured maybe that line of reasoning would work, and Carol 
didn't seem to be putting up any argument at all. 

Anne felt another pair of hands on her flesh. 

"You know, she's right ... why don't you let me have her?" 

Anne tried to see behind her, but she was being held too tightly. 

"Sure, Ray, why not. Here ... she's all yours." 

The big man pushed her away, and she scrambled to get on her feet. But it 
was too late. Ray grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down to the 
floor, pinning her nakedness under his body. 

"No! Leave me alone ... I'll scream," she threatened, wrestling to escape 
from his grip. He wasn't nearly as big as the other man, and she was sure 
she had a chance. 

"All you need is a helping hand, good buddy." 

Anne looked up, straight into the face of the big man. He pulled both her 
hands away from Ray, and slammed them down against the floor. 

He was directly over her face, leering down at her, a sick, twisted grin 
spread across his round face. 

"I'll hold her arms. You do the rest." 

Ray was on his feet, wearing only his under-shorts. He was just an inch too 
far away for her to kick, but she tried anyway, twisting and shaking like a 
fish on a line, fighting vainly to escape. 

He enjoyed watching her squirm, knowing that in just a few seconds she would 
be all his, that his aching cock would soon be plunging into that white 
little belly of hers, right up to the hilt. 

Ray just hoped she would be tight. And the tighter the better. That was the 
way he liked it, when he had to push and push until finally the warm fleshy 
walls opened up, and he could give that one big lunge and bury his long dick 
deep inside. 

He'd seen the way she strutted around earlier, like maybe she had something 
special. Something too good for just anybody. Well, he'd show her. Before he 
was finished, she'd be begging for mercy ... maybe he'd make her blow him 
first-while the others watched. Yeah, that'd teach her. Down on her knees at 
his feet, choking and gasping for air as he threw it to her-right down that 
pretty throat of hers. 

He smiled watching her naked young body writhing so helplessly at his feet, 
knowing what was coming for her. He'd made up his mind ... Something special 
for her. Before this party was over, she be on her knees begging for more 
... and he'd give it to her. All she wanted and maybe a little more besides. 

Someone changed the music again, and the acid rock once more filled the 
room, drowning out Anne's futile pleading. 

"Carol ... Carol, do something. Make them stop ... Please!" she half cried, 
as her voice dropped off to a helpless whimper. 

But Carol only smiled, so stoned that it all seemed funny to her. "Take it 
easy, baby ... What're you getting so up tight about? Nobody's hurting you. 
They just want a little fun, that's all." She was on her knees, behind Anne 
so she looked upside down as she looked up longingly, hoping someone would 
make it all end. 

Only no one really noticed. The room was still semi-dark, but Anne could see 
that nobody cared what was happening to her. She could see a man's hard 
driving buttocks only a few feet away, and a pair of long bare legs wrapped 
around his back, and the glistening length of his hardened cock as it 
tunneled in and out of the soft hair-lined lips of the pussy of the girl 
beneath him. And she was sure she'd get no help from them. 

"Please, please ... oh, please let me go. Please don't do it to me. Oh you 
can't..." Everyone went blurry as the tears filled her eyes, and there was 
no way to wipe them. 

Ray unfastened the metal snap on his under-shorts, and let them fall to the 
floor. His long, thin cock was still hanging limply from his loins, but it 
was slowly coming alive, growing harder, swelling, rising up until finally 
it stood out straight and hard-like a long fleshy pole growing from his 
crotch. 

He watched her struggling savagely on the floor, completely helpless in 
Benny Guilio's iron grip, and he couldn't help laughing. Benny was the 
strongest guy he knew-anywhere-and somehow the idea of this frail, tiny 
young girl fighting him like a tiger struck him as funny. 

But he knew she wouldn't fight for long. 

Baby, you might kick and squirm now, but I'm gonna' change all that. You'll 
be begging me to fuck you till you can't walk ... begging me! 

Her long smooth legs flailed vainly in the air, and Ray could catch a 
glimpse of her upturned crotch whenever they kicked high enough. Even in the 
weak red light he could make out the soft sparse triangle of hair-the 
delicate pinkness of her pussy, its warm lips so exposed, so inviting. 

I'd like to climb on that sweet little ass of yours right now, baby ... I'd 
slide into you like a knife into butter. 

But Ray only smiled as he kicked his under-shorts aside, standing naked over 
her body. He caught Benny's eye-this wasn't the first girl they'd shared, 
and it wouldn't be the last. There was no need for a word to be said. Benny 
grinned-he had some plans of his own. But he didn't mind waiting. 

 CHAPTER 9 

Bob was asleep for the first time in thirty six hours, sprawled across the 
back seat of the old Ford, his feet propped on the opposite door. Johnny 
Sanger and his wife Ellen were in the front, cuddled like newly-weds. Sleep 
was just what Bob needed, for there were seven hours of driving ahead, and 
Johnny would be needing a relief pretty soon. 

At the airfield, it had seemed that his luck was really holding out. He'd 
noticed the license plates right away, but hadn't thought it right to horn 
in on two perfect strangers, especially when they were spending their first 
minutes together in months. He really hated to miss a chance like that, 
though-their city plates said Glen Forest, and that was only twelve miles 
from home. But even a real bastard wouldn't be so presumptuous, he told 
himself. 

How could he help it if they just happened to be standing three feet away 
when he asked the bus dispatcher for the departure time of the next bus to 
College Park? He'd felt like a heel, but only for a few minutes, and after 
first refusing their offer, then waiting for them to insist, he tossed his 
gear in their trunk, and off they drove. 

Johnny would make it in record time, for he had a lot of catching up to do 
after a year in Vietnam. 

* * * 

The strange man dropped to his knees on the soft carpet, at Anne's feet. She 
lay frozen in fear, watching him and waiting-knowing what he was going to 
do, yet hoping it was all a terrible dream and that maybe she would wake up 
and everything would be all right. The effects of the marijuana had not worn 
off, and she was finding it hard to think rationally; although she knew 
there was nothing she could do. 

Chuckling to himself like a crazed lunatic, Ray grabbed her soft legs just 
below her knees, and pushed them up and over her body until they pressed 
roughly against her breasts, opening the whole expanse of her upturned 
crotch to his view like a buffet dinner, waiting to be eaten. 

He dropped his head to her crotch, spreading the soft light hair aside with 
his fingers, and flicked his tongue into the warm wetness of her pussy, 
wiggling the tip of it into the soft, fleshy lips. 

Anne snapped like a whip as the sudden contact sent an electrifying chill 
racing the length of her spine, as if a hot wire had been touched to her 
naked loins. 

He held her thighs pinned back with his clammy palms, keeping her from 
closing her legs. She was afraid to look, but when she did, she could see 
him crouching like an animal, leering up at her across the flat plane of her 
belly and the twin mounds of her breasts jutting up like bulging mountain 
peaks. Never had she felt so completely naked, so horrifyingly exposed, as 
the delicate moist flesh of her vagina lay so defenseless before him, thrust 
up at his savage, leering face, his tongue moistening his lips as he 
prepared to take what he wanted. 

For a few long moments he watched her, his cruel eyes staring straight into 
hers, savoring every golden second, as she trembled in abject horror beneath 
his gaze. Then, slowly, again with his fingers, he gently spread apart the 
ragged pink lips of her vagina, opening up the moist slit and the bud of her 
clitoris-like a jewel box containing the finest precious stone. He eyed it 
hungrily for a moment, then with an animal-like grunt, buried his face in 
the soft wetness, his long rough tongue squirming its way deep between the 
quivering walls of her cunt. She jerked again, and this time was unable to 
hold back a soulful moan from deep inside as she wiggled to escape his 
agonizing assault on her loins. 

"Oh, please! Noooooo..." She begged and whimpered before him like some 
wretch facing death, watching with unbelieving eyes as his head bobbed up 
and down between her legs, burrowing greedily into her widespread crotch. 

"This can't be happening. No ... please! Nooo..." She fell back on the 
carpet, too defeated to struggle any more, and the big man loosened his grip 
on her arms. She had almost forgotten he was there, and she closed her eyes 
tightly to avoid looking straight up into his huge face. 

"Here, take some of this," said the giant of a man kneeling over her. "It'll 
make it better." 

Anne wasn't sure whether he was being helpful, but she defensively took 
another long drag on the marijuana joint, then another, until she could feel 
her muscles loosen and her fears ease. He started to take it away, but she 
pulled it back with her lips. Again and again she puffed the sweet smoke 
into her lungs, holding it in deeply as she'd seen the others do. 

"You'd better be careful, sweetheart," warned Denny. "That's powerful 
stuff." 

But Anne only wanted to be numbed, to make everything fuzzy and then, maybe, 
she wouldn't be aware of the leering animal licking at her crotch like a 
hungry dog. 

Only she got more than she bargained for. It wasn't noticeable at first, but 
then she felt again the wild tingling at every nerve ending in her body. Her 
thighs felt as if someone were tickling her with a long feather, and 
suddenly her naked body was burning with a hot flame, raging out of control. 
Every square inch of her body was alive with thousands of tiny pinpricks. 
She couldn't stay still, her buttocks ground desperately into the carpet. 

She fought it fiercely, but there wasn't strength enough in her dazed mind 
to hold it back; and, in seconds, her hot, wet pussy ached for a cock, and 
nothing else would satisfy this burning need that had taken her in its grip. 

"Oh, God ... That's so good..." she moaned as he rolled his hard tongue 
around the sensitive bud of her clitoris, ripples of pleasure coursing out 
across her belly and into the throbbing pink nipples of her firm, young 
breasts. Slowly the wanton shivers of desire pushed aside her fear and 
humiliation, and against her will she began to enjoy his lewd hands probing 
salaciously at her tender flesh. 

Harder and harder he sucked on her clitoris, as she arched her back up off 
the floor, grinding her wet vaginal slit hard against his face. Her entire 
body was jerking as he burrowed his tongue between the hot, fleshy lips of 
her helplessly quivering cunt, worming it far inside between the warm, wet 
walls. 

Anne was on fire with flaming desire. Her vagina felt as if it was a gaping 
hole, big enough to take on every man in the lodge. All reason had left her, 
driven out by the strong drug, and with it, her self-control. She pulled 
against Benny's grip, and he let her go. It was obvious that she wouldn't 
try to escape. Grabbing Ray's head, she pulled his entire face into her hot, 
squirming loins, pushing his tongue further into her ravenous passage. But 
it wasn't enough. 

"Fuck me ... fuck me!" she gasped, her pussy a raging inferno. "Fuck me 
hard!" 

Ray pulled away from between her widespread legs, his face wet with her 
cascading sexual juices. "Okay, honey. You don't have to ask me twice!" he 
grinned obscenely down at her pleading face. 

He grabbed her flailing legs and pushed them tightly against her sweat 
soaked body. His stiff cock was brushing against her soaking wet pubic hair 
as he positioned himself perfectly, his hands braced on the floor beside 
her, and her ankles locked tight behind his neck. He looked up and noticed 
that Benny was grinning with excitement, his face covered with a dumb 
slobbering leer. He had unzipped his pants and slid his left hand inside, 
kneeling just over Anne's face. 

Both men watched eagerly as Ray eased his throbbing cock up to the hot, 
fleshy lips of her vagina. Her narrow slit was pulsing with the maddening 
desire that had swept over her. Anne could see his form hovering over her, 
but in her drug-heightened euphoria, it didn't matter who it was. It could 
have been Bob or a thousand other men. All that mattered was that hard, 
fleshy rod of hardened cock poking teasingly at her hungry cunt as she 
twisted her hips wildly, desperately grinding her wet crotch up at its 
throbbing head. 

"Now! Please, now!" She would go raving mad without it! "Fuck me with it! 
Punch it to me! Oh, God, punch it to me!" 

She reached down desperately and grabbed it with both hands, stroking it 
hungrily with her half-closed palm, pulling on it, feeling it grow even 
larger and harder under her soft touch. She could feel the blood pumping 
into it, swelling it right in her hand. Her fingers grew sticky as it oozed 
a tiny flow of warm, slippery semen from the bulbous tip. 

And then...! "Aaaaaagggh!" Anne's lust twisting body was smashed hard down 
against the floor with a loud thud as Ray slammed his hardened cock 
mercilessly into her belly, pushing aside the soft, fleshy walls of her cunt 
in one long, deep lunge. 

"Oh, God! You're hurting..." Anne was unable to finish her plea, for Ray 
pulled his long prick almost out of her hot, wet vagina and drove forward 
again, smashing against her cervix with a grinding lunge. Not for an instant 
did he slow his unrelenting rhythm, each pistoning thrust seemingly deeper 
than the one before. Anne could see nothing but bright circles of light 
flashing in front of her eyes like dozens of flashbulbs exploding. 

"What's wrong, baby," he sneered. "Too much for you?" He punctuated his 
words with another deep thrust, burying his cock to its brushy hilt in the 
wetness of her pussy. 

Lunge after lunge disappeared in the warm, moist depths of her cunt, every 
agonizing thrust sending bone-shattering jolts of excitement through her 
tense, naked body. Anne couldn't see the three couples who were standing 
over her writhing form, watching with wide lust filled eyes as Ray pumped 
into her like a hot-blooded stallion, holding her legs back over her 
shoulders so that his powerful thrusts drove his long, hard cock deep into 
her hole. Six pairs of eyes watched intently as his stiff prick slithered 
between the grasping, wet lips of her vagina, squeezing it like a fist as it 
slid deeper and deeper inside. 

Again and again his stiff cock tunneled into the hungry, clutching lips of 
her clenching vaginal hole, and with each smashing thrust Anne was sure she 
could stand no more. Each time it seemed to be pounding into her very belly, 
and she could feel the first signs of nausea welling in her stomach. 

"Please ... Please. You're hurting me..." 

She was barely able to get the words out. 

Ray knew she was helpless now, and that she would take whatever he wanted to 
throw at her, and he cased his pounding pace to a slow, deep rhythm, gently 
sawing in and out of her warm, wet cunt with long, smooth strokes. His hands 
were on her upturned thighs, and he could feel the muscles loosen as he 
slowed his savage thrusts. 

The others watched as though hypnotized, not turning away for a second, as 
he eased his wet, glistening cock out of the eager lips of her cunt until 
only the tips remained in its warm clutches, then pushed forward smoothly, 
the shaft disappearing between the hot, moist folds of pink flesh until it 
lay buried to the base deep inside, his hairy pelvis flat against the soft 
flesh around her wet opening. With each deep thrust his aching balls slapped 
wetly in the crevice of her ass, turned up high off the floor by the painful 
S-shaped position he was holding her in. 

He could see that she had abandoned herself to the wild passion brought on 
by the drugher eyes were opened wide, her head thrown back almost to the 
floor, her hair fanning out behind her in a soft, blonde swirl on the 
carpet. 

She looked up-and found herself staring at the thick, bulky length of 
Benny's short cock as he knelt over her passion contorted face. He was 
working himself into a frenzy watching this beautiful young girl being 
fucked like a wild bitch in heat right in front of him, and was pumping on 
his short, fat prick like a pump handle-his eyes glued on the savage 
ravishment at his feet. Anne felt a hot, sticky drop of his semen drip from 
the bulbous tip onto her cheek, but in her drugged state it didn't matter. 

"Oh, yes ... That's it ... That's it..." she mumbled through her tightly 
closed teeth. Ray had found just the right pace, and she was urging him on, 
her own juices lubricating her hot, fleshy passage as he rocked into her 
again and again. She thought she could see the faces of the others standing 
around her, but she wasn't sure. Either way, it didn't concern her. The 
flames of desire were burning out of control in her belly, and there was 
only one way to quench them. Grinding her crotch up to meet his deep 
thrusts, she grabbed his buttocks with both hands and pulled him hard into 
her, forcing his long, hard cock even further into her womb. 

Someone held a lighted "joint" to her parched lips, and without hesitation 
she took a long searing drag that seemed to explode in a burst of color in 
the top of her head. She took another and the faces around her fused into a 
greasy smear of pinks and browns. For her nothing existed except her burning 
pussy and the agonizing need to satisfying its raging hunger. 

She heard Benny say something, but the words all seemed to run together, and 
she couldn't make it out. But she knew he was saying something for the 
others were laughing. 

What is he saying ... I've got to try to make it out ... They're 
laughing-all of them . . they're laughing at me ... I know they are! They're 
laughing at me! 

Anne was straining to understand, but the words just bounced around 
meaninglessly in her head. Suddenly she felt strong hands under her body, 
and more under her shoulders. She was being lifted! The room spun wildly as 
she was lifted higher and higher. 

What's happening to me!? What are they doing to me... 

The relentless plundering of her wet pussy didn't ease for a moment as Ray 
and Benny lifted her bodily off the floor and turned her completely over-her 
knees touching the floor and her breasts smashed against Ray's hairy chest. 
He was fucking her in short, deep bursts from underneath as she lay on top 
of him. His lips locked onto hers, and she felt his long, rough tongue 
probing into her mouth, as he wormed his way into her from both ends. Her 
buttocks were sticking straight up, waving like a flag in the air behind as 
he pumped into her from below, his long cock bending just a little as it 
pushed its way up into her cunt. 

Her ass snapped forward involuntarily as she felt the unmistakable prodding 
of something against her tiny, clenching rectum. She clenched her buttocks 
tightly shut, desperately trying to ward off her unseen attacker. But the 
probing shaft wasn't to be held off so easily. Again it forced its way 
between the cheeks of her ass and pushed against the tightly puckered 
opening of her anus. She turned her head numbly-It was Benny! His short, 
thick cock between both hands as he pushed it between her buttocks, a 
drooling grin spreading wetly over his lasciviously leering face. 

"No ... Ugg ... No..." Anne couldn't make the words come out right. "Not 
there..." 

She squirmed her helpless upturned buttocks defensively from side to side to 
dodge his hard thrusts, and for a few minutes was able to keep him from 
entering her tight puckered anus. But Ray pinned her tightly to his chest 
with his arms wrapped around her, and she was unable to move her hips at 
all. Benny pressed the smooth rubbery head of his cock against the tight 
rings of muscle around her anus, pushing with all his strength to get the 
thick shaft inside her. 

Someone yelled from the jumbled haze of onlookers. Anne could make out the 
words. 

"Spit on it, Benny! You'll never get it in that way." Anne cringed at the 
horrifying thought. 

Benny grinned dumbly and spat on his hand, then smeared his bulky cock with 
the liquid. This time it slipped neatly into her tightly cringing rectum, 
penetrating the full length-nearly four inches inside the tender passage. 

Anne cried out as the short, thick shaft entered her from behind. 

She pushed down vainly on Ray's jerking cock, only stopping when she had 
reached its hilt, but there was no escape from the enormous probing trunk 
entering her from the rear. As Anne squirmed frantically to escape the 
impaling cudgel, the elastic skin around her ass-hole stretched wide to 
accommodate the mercilessly invading cock. 

It excited Ray even more to know that another man was fucking this same 
young girl from the rear, and he started fucking her tight, wet cunt with 
hard upward jabs as Benny sawed into her from behind with his thick hardened 
shaft. 

She slid upward on Ray's stiff, probing rod, almost to the tip. And as she 
did, Benny's prick sank deep into her nether hole from behind. The initial 
pain was slowly vanishing as the fleshy opening gradually stretched to allow 
this intruding shaft to slide more easily into her backside. She was 
beginning to enjoy this incredible sensation of being fucked by two men at 
the same time. The drug had heightened all her senses, and once the pain had 
lessened, her insatiable desire again took hold, and she began to cry out 
with pleasure as the men fucked her in a way she had never experienced 
before. 

Ray was getting into his stride, and pumping into her with short upward 
jabbing movements, grunting with delight as their moist, sweating bellies 
slapped obscenely together. Benny was punctuating Ray's thrusts with short, 
powerful lunges of his own into the tiny forbidden opening back between her 
wide stretched buttocks. 

Anne began to slowly and rhythmically grind her hips, making sure that both 
swelling cocks sank deep to their full length in her front and rear 
passages. She was now kneeling on all fours, her breasts dangling 
salaciously beneath her as Ray nibbled hungrily on the throbbing tips, her 
entire body a mass of wild, quivering nerves. 

The ingredients had driven her out of her mind with lust-the drug, the 
fantastic sensation of being fucked by two men at once, the masculine smell 
of sweat as they strained every muscle grinding into her again and again. 
She was oblivious to those watching her-it didn't matter who saw her now. 
She wanted this moment to go on forever-to never end. 

Her orgasm, which had been so long coming, rose up inside her like a 
tropical fever, making her head swim, her blood boil, a million colored 
stars exploding before her eyes. She humped up and down on Ray's upraised 
cock as fast as she could, shoving her ass out to meet Benny's cock wedged 
in her crack. She couldn't hold back any longer. 

With a soulful moan that seemed to fill the room, she collapsed with all her 
weight on 

Ray's throbbing manhood, her toes clawing at the carpet, a great flood of 
her love juices flowing down onto his belly and trickling wetly around his 
balls. 

Benny was the first to empty his load into her belly, his short, stubby cock 
quivering with delight as it jettisoned its sticky load in her naked, 
writhing loveliness. He grunted like a boar pig as it jerked its stream into 
her tightly clenching rectum. With one final gasp, he pulled the rubbery 
mass from the tight grip of her rear passage, and fell backwards heavily on 
the floor, still grinning like a madman. 

Ray held back until Benny had jerked his deflated penis from her 
sperm-flooded rectum, then pumped with renewed strength upwards into her 
hungry cuntal passage. It only took a few more thrusts; then, he pushed his 
whole body off the floor for a few brief moments, ramming his lust-inflated 
cock as far as it would go up inside her cunt. It gave one final jerk, then 
exploded like a grenade inside her womb, filling her with his hot, sticky 
semen that mingled salaciously with her own juices and hotly trickled down 
the length of his rapidly deflating prick and along the crevices of his 
crotch onto the rug below. 

Anne could feel the flood of sperm sloshing inside her, both her passages 
soaking wet with the warmly mingling sperm. She wearily untangled herself 
from Ray, and rolled over on her side. Never had she felt so completely 
satisfied as at this moment. All her deepest, innermost desires had been 
completely fulfilled. 

She offered no protest, no resistance as another pair of hands rolled her 
back up on her knees. She wanted it again and again! God, how she wanted it! 

 CHAPTER 10 

Bob got as far as the door to his apartment before he realized he didn't 
have a key. 

Oh well, it won't hurt Anne to get up a little early. And this is something 
of a special morning. 

He rapped the door a few times, trying not to knock loud enough to wake the 
neighbors-just Anne. No answer. He knocked again, this time a little louder, 
but still not a sound from inside. 

Surely she couldn't have gone to work already, he told himself, putting down 
his heavy duffel bag. He checked his watch to be sure of the time. 

I'm sure this is the right time, I checked it with Johnny when he dropped me 
off. Where could Anne be at five minutes past five in the morning? 

Bob left his bags by the door and went downstairs to wake up Mr. Kracowski, 
the building manager. He could hear someone moving inside, so he didn't have 
to wake anyone up after all. Mrs. Kracowski came to the door, holding the 
morning coffee pot in her left hand. 

"Why Mr. Hartley!" she exclaimed, her half-closed eyes suddenly widening. 
"What are you doing here? I didn't think you were due back for months yet!" 
Her expression changed abruptly to one of concern. "You aren't ... I mean, 
you haven't been ... hurt or anything?" she asked. 

"No, no. Nothing like that," reassured Bob. "I'm going back to school for my 
last year. At the Army's expense ... I'll fill you all in later. Right now I 
need a key to our apartment." 

"Oh, isn't Mrs. Hartley there. It's only..." She stopped suddenly, as if she 
knew she'd said something wrong. Bob suddenly felt he should make some 
excuse. 

"She said something about leaving early for work," he lied. "That's probably 
where she is." 

Mrs. Kracowski let her breath out, glad to be off the hook, even if she 
didn't believe a word of Bob's explanation. 

"Come on in, Bob. I'll have Lou get you a key. Won't take but a second." 

Bob opened the door to the apartment, hesitating a little as he pushed open 
the door. Something just didn't seem right. He couldn't quite pin it down, 
just a strange feeling of uneasiness. The door opened wide, and Bob tossed 
his bags onto the sofa. The kitchen light was on, as if Anne had just 
stepped out for a cup of sugar. 

"Anne, honey! Anybody home?" He tried one more time, then peered around the 
corner into the bedroom. Their bed was neatly made up, no clothes scattered 
around like Anne usually left them; not a sign that anyone had been around 
all night. 

This is ridiculous, Bob told himself. I shouldn't be worrying. Of course 
there's some logical explanation. Maybe she really did go to work early. She 
might have stopped for breakfast or something ... That's it! I'll bet she 
left so early so she could eat breakfast out. She probably got paid this 
week and felt like splurging a little... 

Bob sprawled comfortably on the sofa, propping his feet on his duffel bag. 
He could feel every muscle in his body slowly loosening for the first time 
since he left the airfield. All those hours of driving had taken their toll, 
and in a couple of minutes he was in the midst of a deep troubled sleep. 

* * * 

Anne climbed painfully from the cab, tossing the driver the money Ray had 
given her. "Hey, wait lady! This is a twenty!" 

Anne didn't even turn her head. "You keep it!" she yelled, trying her best 
to run up the steps to the front door. Her legs just wouldn't come 
together-they felt like a block of coarse sandpaper was shoved between her 
thighs, rubbing her raw, tender flesh as she walked. Her loins were a mass 
of bruises as she struggled up the stairs, past the Kracowski's door and up 
to her apartment. She fumbled through the wadded tissues in her purse, damp 
with tears, and found her key. The sun was well up by this time, and the 
living room was flooded with the early rays of morning. Anne shielded her 
reddened eyes from the stinging glare. 

And then she saw the tired, motionless form on the sofa, sprawled like an 
abandoned rag doll over the duffel bag and cushions. 

"Bob ... Bob! BOB ... Is it really you!" His eyes popped open as he sat up. 
"Oh, Bob darling..." She fell on him, pushing him back on the cushions. 
"When did you get here!? What are you doing back so soon?" Anne rapid-fired 
the questions at him without waiting for an answer. 

"Now, hold on a minute. One thing at a time." 

Bob explained about the early release, about the Army's offer, and as much 
of the rest as he could piece together between kisses and hugs. 

But Bob's curiosity had the best of him. 

"Honey, where have you been at this hour of the morning? I thought you'd 
gone to work or something? Mrs. Kracowski thought you were here. As a 
matter-of-fact she seemed kind of surprised that you weren't ... Anne, there 
is a perfectly reasonable explanation ... isn't there?" All the excitement 
suddenly vanished from Anne's face. For a few precious moments she had 
forgotten all about the awful evening she had just experienced-about all 
those pawing hands-and about all the other nights; and it all slammed back 
into her like a truck-load of cement. 

Her eyes puffed and watered, but there were no tears left. Anne knew that 
the time for crying had long since passed. 

"Bob ... I..." She couldn't do it-the words just weren't there. 

Oh God-How can I tell him ... His first few minutes back and I have to 
destroy him with this. 

She looked into his eyes-deep and trusting, with hardly a trace of doubt. 

"Uh ... I was having breakfast with a girlfriend. She goes to work really 
early and ... and she wanted to talk to me about some problems she's having 
with her husband. You know-girl talk, that sort of thing." Anne couldn't 
tell from his face whether he was swallowing her story. 

"Oh, I see," he said, "So you came back because it's still too early for you 
to go to work, right?" 

"No, darling ... not exactly," confessed Anne. "You see ... I..." 

"Have you lost your job, honey? Is that what you were trying to tell me? Why 
didn't you just say so? You know how I feel about you working anyway?" 

The terrible truth was filling her like a balloon about to burst, but she 
held it back, fighting the agonizing guilt that was welling inside her. 

"I didn't get fired, Bob ... I quit. I'm sorry, I know it was the wrong 
thing to do, but I just couldn't take it any longer." She hid her face 
against his shoulder, safe and secure, for the moment, in his strong 
protective arms. 

"Now, now, sweetie," said Bob reassuredly, "That's nothing to get upset 
about. Plenty of people quit their jobs. I mean, it's not the end of the 
world. And besides, you don't have to worry about money for a while. I've 
got plenty coming to me, and the Army's footing the bill for me to finish 
school. I'm going to see Dean Richardson in the morning, and in a few weeks, 
if all goes well, I'll be back in class, What'ya think about all that? 
Pretty good, huh?" 

Anne had to force herself to concentrate on what he was saying, for the 
words seemed to slip right past her. All she could think of was the painful 
reality that she knew would eventually have to come out like cancer, and 
every second with Bob made it seem more and more impossible. 

"That's great, darling. Just great. Does that mean you won't have to go back 
in the Army?" she asked hopefully. 

Bob squeezed her even tighter to his chest. 

"Oh, no-I'll still be in the Army; in fact, I'll be serving an extra hitch. 
But I'll be right here with you for at least a year. And we'll be together 
every single day!" 

Anne bit her lip to hold back the tears. She wanted so badly to be able to 
cry, as if crying could wash away her guilt. 

I can't tell him...I just can't! No matter what happens to me, I can't allow 
Bob to find out... 

Now she was even more confused and helpless than ever before, for suddenly 
this moment she had hoped and prayed for so long was here, and Anne Hartley 
was faced with the awful truth: Bob's homecoming was not the beautiful 
ending to her endless nightmare, but only the beginning ... they would never 
let her go ... not with the terrible hold those awful people had over her 
... never ... they would make her commit horrible adultery over and over 
again ... and she knew even now that she would do it. . . or anything else 
they asked if she could just buy a little time to keep her husband from ever 
finding out. She had to do it. . . she just had to... 

"Darling, take me to bed and make love to me, please make love to me." She 
groaned to him desperately, tears welling in her eyes it was the only way to 
forget what tomorrow held in store for her ... the only way! 


THE END
