Chapter 4

Judy opened her eyes and groaned. She ached all over. One leg throbbed fiercely and her head pounded until she thought she would vomit. She stirred, but a firm hand restrained her.

"Lie still. Just take it easy."

"What? Who...."

"Nasty spill, Judy. Take it easy for a bit."

She shifted her glance toward the voice and saw Cal Porter and his twin. Only Cal doesn't have a twin, does he? she wondered. God, it hurts to focus!

"Is ... is it you, Cal?"

"Yeah. Christ, what a tumble! Let me check you for breaks."

"Cal..."

"Huh?"

"Is there ... I mean, are you...Well, is there one of you or two?"

"Oh, shit!" He groaned. "See two of me?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Concussion. Let's see if anything else is wrong."

She didn't watch; it hurt too much to move her head. Even moving her eyes made the pain stab through her skull. But she felt the pressure of his fingers as he walked them along the bones of her hand and arm.

"That one's okay," he muttered, more to himself than to her. But while he explored the other arm he remarked for her benefit, "One good thing-there's no blood. Didn't even cut your head."

"That's good." Her words sounded thick to her.

He completed the examination as proficiently as if he'd been a doctor. Judy flinched at the casual intimacy at times, but she still ached too much to protest and his hands moved so quickly and professionally they left no suspicion of secondary purposes.

"Cal. . . You aren't a doctor?" She wasn't quite sure, now.

He laughed good-naturedly. "Let you in on a secret, Judy. Worked my way through college in a massage parlor. And I'm a volunteer trainer in junior hockey in Seattle. Get a chance to look for breaks once in a while."

"Oh."

"Looks like you're all in one piece. How's the vision?"

"Still two of you."

He sighed lugubriously. "Damn shame nobody ever said they wished there were." He scooped her into his arms and stood. "Be a good idea not to walk right away. Get you into bed and let you rest."

"Don't go up these stairs, Cal! One of them is loose!"

"Loose! You sure?"

"Check it. But not while your arms are full."

"Son of a- Excuse me. Look here. You missed this thing by inches. Hit that, you'd be dead for sure."

She struggled to focus her eyes. Despite her double vision, she recognized the ominous outlines of Colleen's cleaning cart, its implements projecting with murderously bristling disarray. It stood against the lowest step, blocking two-thirds of the narrow width of the staircase.

"Oh, dear!" She whispered, nauseous again. "I ... I fell past that?"

"Barely. Jesus, Judy! I was wondering what you'd done to your blouse! Look!"

"What is it? I'm sorry, Cal, I just can't focus that good."

"Big chunk of material hanging on the end of this squeegee handle." He chuckled grimly. "An inch closer, you'd have left a knocker hanging there."

"Brrr! Cal, get me out of here!"

"Yeah. Guess so."

Cal took her to her own room, calling to Colleen as he passed the Irishwoman's apartment. Colleen joined them at once. She exclaimed bitterly at Judy's narrow escape. But she refrained from commenting on Edith's probable involvement until Cal had left. Even then, she limited herself to an emotional cursing and dark muttering that Judy was in deadly peril.

Judy protested. "I don't use those stairs-you do! And what about the coffee?" There could be no real answer to the question.

Cal returned with ice he'd crushed and placed a pack on Judy's head. During the next few hours everybody in the house except Sarah came in to speak to Judy.

Gwen chewed gum with her mouth open, a perfect caricature of the old-fashioned telephone operator. And she perched on the edge of the chair with her knees crossed and a generous expanse of thigh exposed. Judy wondered if Lowell ever minded his wife's crudeness.

"Too bad, honey," Gwen commented. "At least it's better to bash your head than your ass. Around here, especially. Hope you're okay by tomorrow night."

"Why tomorrow night?"

"Big time in the Blake apartment. Hoping you'll help us make it lively." She winked and attacked her gum furiously. "If ya know what I mean."

"Oh."

Edith was darkly critical of Colleen. "Lazy damn woman!" she remarked. "Leave that stupid cart where it belonged, people wouldn't be in danger of killing themselves. But no, she's got to put it where she can reach it the minute she gets to the bottom of the stairs." She sniffed. "And then not to have that loose step fixed. I swear!"

Mike Garlock said very little. He studied her silently, for the most part, and she wondered at the faintly puzzled expression that flickered across his features from time to time. Only afterward did she recall Colleen's observation about Garlock being a proud name. She wondered just how proud it was. Proud enough so he'd want Colleen dead before somebody found out she was Oliver's bastard? she asked herself. Proud enough so he'd put that cart where Colleen would never leave it and loosen a tread on the stairs?

And Lowell was simply sweet and concerned. "What in God's name made you use those stairs, anyway?" he asked. "Too dark! Hell, I've even tried to get Colleen to stay off them! Figured we ought to board the damn things up."

"They aren't that dark," Judy replied. "Not really."

"Hmph. Hey, rest real good, baby. Think you'll be able to get up enough nerve to play games with the Porters and us tomorrow night?"

She felt her belly tighten. "Games?"

He grinned lecherously. "Sure! You can be it, if you want to."

"Sex."

"Christ, yes, puss! Any other kind of games worth a damn?"

"Oh, Lowell, I don't know! I-"

"Sleep on it, puss."

But they were trying to keep her awake. That was because of the concussion, she supposed-something about twelve hours after the injury so they'd know if she went unconscious.

Cal came in with a sober expression. "You're just lucky as hell!" he exclaimed quietly.

"Why?"

"Hate to say it, but somebody pried nails out of that step. Careless son of a- Oops! Excuse me. No effort at all to avoid leaving the marks."

"Murder! Somebody did try to kill Colleen, then!"

"Huh? Colleen?"

She told him about the coffee.

"Yeah, seems I did hear Joey was dead. Hmm. Can't prove there was anything there that would have killed Colleen, though. Might not even have made her sick."

"What!"

"Well, those little birds, you know. Metabolic rate out of this world. Stuff goes through them so fast you wouldn't believe it. And it doesn't take one hell of a dose to knock them off. Shit, four or five grains of tobacco would do that. I'm not saying that could have been tobacco, but that's an idea how little it takes to stop their clock."

Judy found his doubts little comfort, but she did try to respond lightly. "The loose step wouldn't have hurt Joey much."

Cal refused to take the remark as a joke. "No. That dose was enough to kill a human." And he changed the subject, staring at her with a distinctly non-professional manner. "Hey! True you might come along to the blast in Lowell and Gwen's apartment tomorrow night? That would be the greatest!"

"Oh, Cal!" She felt herself blushing and gave silent thanks for the late-afternoon gloom. "I ... I don't know!"

"Honey...." His tone was low and friendly. "You know how out of place I am in this atmosphere. But I want you to know nothing could be nicer than for you to show up there. I mean...." He paused as if fumbling for words. "Well, I probably shouldn't say anything until you make up your mind." He grinned self-consciously. "Always was awkward making passes."

"Thanks, Cal." She felt a motherly sympathy for the earnest, clumsy industrialist. "I'll think, if my head stops aching."

Twenty-four hours later she'd decided to dare the experiment. "One orgy," Lowell had said. "At least one orgy before kicking off." If "accidents" were going to become common occurrences at Garlock Heights, maybe she'd better have her orgy. It wouldn't be bad with those two men, either. She already knew what an exhilarating thing sex could be with Lowell. And Cal was so sweet and unassuming it ought to be a warm, happy experience with him.

Colleen agreed to listen for Sarah. "Party, huh? Lowell and Edith and the other two? Well, long's they got their minds on nooky they're prob'ly okay." She grinned briefly. "Ain't no class distinction in Lowell when it comes to a piece of tail. And I guess that's mostly what's wrong with Edith-she's all pussy and anything that shuts her off is bad. Of course, she's pretty stuck up, too, but maybe she wouldn't be with a lot of sex going on."

"Oh, Colleen! Who said anything about it being that kind of party?"

Colleen laughed. "Ain't no other kind around them four, honey." She sobered, studying Judy closely. Her voice sounded full of concern when she continued. "Look, honey. Have your fun. Don't be scared of gettin' all the peter you want. But do it kind of choosy, if you see what I mean. You got a nice enough body you don't have to be a tramp."

Judy panicked when she tried to decide what to wear. Colleen refused to advise her.

"I ain't never done an orgy," she remarked. "Just went at it one guy at a time. Better ask Gwen. Now, there's a tramp! But she'll know what's right to wear, I bet."

Gwen went through Judy's wardrobe quickly. "Nothin' here, sweetie," she judged. "C'mon! Maybe we can fix something of mine."

Judy doubted it, but she went with the sinuous redhead. Gwen took out a simple, clean-lined frock cut square across the top with plain shoulder straps. It zipped up the back from a point just below the beginning of the modest flare. She held it in front of Judy and had her look at the effect in the mirror. Stark white, the Indianhead material complimented Judy's healthy coloring, and she was pleasantly surprised to find the length was suitable. But she examined the bodice with misgivings.

"I don't know...." She shook her head. "It's ... I mean...."

Gwen chuckled raucously. "So ya got big tits for your age. No sweat, sweetie. Ya don't want to wear anything under it anyways. Hell, they're soft enough to fill in the cracks. It'll do."

Judy hesitated a long time in her own room before getting up the courage to wear the dress without underwear. But she finally did pull it on. And she found her concern about the bust had been unjustified. It was a snug fit, but even before she got the shoulder straps fastened, the dress stayed securely in place.

The Blake apartment was a study of luxury. It was also clearly not designed for much privacy. The living room occupied the central space and the three bedrooms opened off it behind broad arches screened with openwork that provided no concealment whatever. It was obvious the idea had been intimate sharing. Lowell confessed he'd had the place remodeled. Oliver had scowled, he told her, but Sarah had been enchanted by the suggestive arrangement.

A broad table in the middle of the living room supported a huge crystal punchbowl and trays piled high with goodies. An enormous chandelier above the table-Judy didn't try to count the globes set among the dangling crystals-cast a brilliant glare over the entire room.

The punch was good. It had a dry flavor with a subtle touch that reminded Judy of tropical fruit, and when she had finished her second glass of it she was convinced the others were sparkling conversationalists. She realized, though, that they'd been at the - punch for some time before she'd gotten there. Gwen had forgotten what little polish she'd acquired since her marriage to Lowell and Edith, surprisingly, had shed her shell of hauteur. Cal was blinking owlishly, peering from one to the other as if he were groggy. Lowell, on the other hand, seemed unusually shrewd and purposeful; he let the others do most of the talking, but at intervals interjected some comment that intensified the others' reactions. Cal moved away from the others and led Judy toward the couch at the rear of the room. "Watch this," he advised. "Lowell's slick as hell. He's going to get those broads going!"

"Oh, dear! Not fighting!"

"Naw!" He chuckled, then hiccupped. "Naw! Watch!"

Judy couldn't share Cal's unconcern. Both women looked angry to her and even as Cal urged her to watch they sidled toward each other. They had the appearance of two wrestlers appraising each other before moving in for a throw. She couldn't hear what they were saying, either; they'd lowered their voices until she only caught an occasional word. Neither appeared to pay any attention to Lowell's infrequent remarks, but they did look more intense after each one.

Edith moved first. With a quick, fluid sweep of her arm, she struck at the front of Gwen's dress. The zipper ran from neckline to hem, and before Judy could gasp, the garment parted to reveal the redhead's torso.

"My gosh!" exclaimed Judy breathlessly. "Edith's pretty fast on the draw," Cal remarked. "Some woman!"

"She's got the same kind of dress! On purpose?"

"Yeah. We ... "

Whatever he meant to say got lost. Gwen's stroke lacked the swift grace of Edith's and she had to jerk at Edith's zipper pull at the waist, but in a moment Edith's dress gaped as widely as the redhead's. With shrugs that looked contemptuous to Judy, both women shrugged out of the garments and let them crumple to the floor. The bodies she stared at contrasted markedly. Gwen had the figure of a model. She was spare and finely controlled. Her boobs resembled orange halves tipped with pale pink cherries. Her skin was a translucent white, splotched with freckles that had run together-and her pubic hair was a sandy red, affording no concealment for her diminutive pussy. She had no fullness to her curves, but her flesh did manage to pad her sufficiently to prevent any sign of angularity. She held herself with a grace that looked indolent and showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort.

Edith was taller and her hair was up, its glossy black a crown of cables. She had vivid coloring, her eyes a deep brown, her lips tinted scarlet, and her complexion a glowing tan. She held herself erect, smoothly sculpted shoulders back and great, globular breasts proud and quivering. Her nipples were a rich, dark pink and the aureoles verged on being brown. A slender, long waist accentuated full, feminine hips and her buttocks looked like firm sections of cantaloupe.

Edith extended her arm to touch Gwen's hair. Gwen flinched and reached up to lay her hand on top of Edith's coiffure. Judy held her breath, expecting to see one of them swing at the other. Instead, each burrowed her hand into the other's hair and grasped a handful, neither resisting.

"Good heavens! What are they going to do?" Judy asked Cal in a whisper.

He was leaning forward tensely, his face perspiring and his eyes wide. "Shh! You'll see!"

Edith ran her free hand over Gwen in a slow, insolent caress. Gwen trembled and fingered Edith's breasts, twisting each nipple cautiously. As if by prior agreement, they pulled each other closer and began feeling each other with quick, probing fingers. While they made occasional grabs at swinging boobs, they concentrated mostly on grabbing at each other's pussies, and both began to squirm and pant. In moments, their bodies were straining against each other, still twisting more like wrestlers than sex partners. And Edith sank to the floor, throwing Gwen off balance and pouncing on the girl when she fell.

They intertwined their legs and Edith was all over the girl, her hands clutching and caressing while she caught one jiggling tit in her mouth and began sucking savagely.

"God!" Judy shuddered. "Women! Do they like that?"

"I don't know. I doubt it. But they do it sometimes to give Lowell a kick. He gets worked up as hell over it."

"Ugh!"

"Yeah. Lousy way to waste a woman's energy for my money. How about you and me playing our own game, baby?"

"Well..." Judy smiled wryly to herself. She didn't have much to gain by rejecting the suggestion. After all, she'd come of her own free will. And she'd known it would get down to this. "Okay. What kind of game?"

"Feel gutsy?"

"If I don't get hurt."

"Okay! Come on!" He dragged her off the couch and onto her feet.

She followed passively, letting him lead her by the hand like a child. In front of the other couch, he stopped her beside an empty, low coffee table. She hesitated, then seated herself doubtfully on the end. Cal tipped her backward and had her extend her arms beyond her head. He produced soft cord from somewhere and secured each of her wrists to one of the corners of the table.

She submitted quietly to his positioning her, but objected to his tying her. He merely chuckled at her first startled question, and by the time she realized what he really meant to do, the knots were tight on one lashing. With that hand helpless, it was too late to struggle. He held her other arm in place with one hand while passing the line around the legs of the coffee table, then easily tied the other wrist.

"Cal! You didn't say anything about tying me up! Cal! What are you going to do?"

"Baby, I'm going to fuck you! Only I want to get you plenty excited first."

"Please, Cal! Not this way! It's just like rape!"

"Naw, honey. Not rape! You're going to have fun!"

"No! I'm scared. Please don't!" His hand closed over one breast. She gasped and her shoulders twisted abruptly. "Oh! Cal! Please, Cal!"

Without a bra to shape it, her breast molded readily to his squeezing. She felt the coarse material scrape her nipple and excitement stabbed inward.

"Jeez, what a nice tit!" exclaimed Cal. He worked her breasts back and forth, his fingers kneading it. "Soft! Nice, Judy!"

"Oh, Cal, please don't! Please, Cal! Let me go!"

"Aw, shit, baby! That wouldn't be any fun! Look at the chance I've got now!" He grabbed her other breasts and began to fondle it affectionately.

Judy twisted and jerked. His hands were exciting; there was a kind of frightening excitement just in being so God-awful helpless, for that matter. But it was too scary! She had no idea what he might make up his mind to do or what degrading things he might force her to do. She had to make him untie her.

"Cal...Cal, please! Cal, you...don't want- Oooh,Cal!"

The vigorous attention to her boobies was too much for her. She couldn't plead with him while he was making her feel that good. She could only grit her teeth and wiggle under the stimulus his hands provided.

He released one breast and unfastened both shoulder straps. As if he were intimately familiar with the construction of the dress, he slipped his hand under her and unzipped the garment to the waist. She cringed when he turned down the bodice to expose her from the navel up.

"Oh, dear!" she moaned. "Jesus, Cal! How humiliating!"

Lowell had somehow made her feel mature. She'd felt small and precious and protected, but she'd had no sense of being a child. Right now, she felt as if she'd become a toy to be manipulated as Cal's whims suggested. It was the same sense of utter dependence she'd resented so bitterly when John McAllister had been laying down the rules at home. Her anger grew as rapidly as her excitement; she wondered if they fed each other.

"Damn you, Cal Porter! I'm not going to let you do this!" She flung herself to one side, twisting so she could get off the table and turn around.

But Cal laughed delightedly. "Goddamn! Hey, you're going to be terrific!" He swung about to pin her hips, then ran one hand down her leg and captured the ankle.

With swift, practiced movements, he finished spreadeagling her. One sweep of a hand sufficed to thrust the hem of her dress far enough up her thighs to free them and he used one leg of the couch and the foot of an overstuffed chair to secure her ankles. With her legs extended, she discovered their downward angle made the small of her back arch and threw her pubic mound into obscene prominence.

"Oh, Jesus!" she gasped. "You dirty-minded old bastard!"

She trembled after the outburst. You didn't talk to grownups that way-especially not rich, stout ones who ran their own companies and had executives to take over so they could take long vacations. He'll hit me! I know he will! Damn coward! When I'm tied down like a pioneer in an Indian camp!

But Cal laughed again, his voice rich with happy excitement. "Yeah, baby! That's me-dirty-minded old bastard! And look what I got me!"

"Nothing! That's what you've got! Unless you get a kick out of climbing onto window dummies!"

"Not you, baby. You're warm, soft flesh."

"And I'm going to sleep. Just see how much fun that is."

He chuckled. "Hell, you're too mad to go to sleep. And you won't stay mad very long. Get a hand on your cunt and a mouth on a tit, you'll warm up quick."

"I will not! You'll see!"

But she had to admit to herself there was a distinct quality of excitement in having to look past upthrust, tight boobies with nipples that shook with her breathing and know he was looking down at them with a hungry leer. Her thighs were spread at a ghastly angle and he'd flipped the skirt awfully high. She squirmed, vainly attempting to work the skirt back into place.

Cal bent over her and fondled the dainty, sensitive boobies. He brushed work-hardened fingertips over the tops of her nipples and she saw the immodest little buttons swell and stiffen even as the first renewed surge of pleasure washed through her.

"Oh!" she gasped bitterly. "Oh, damn you!"

He bent lower. His hands cupped around one boob and he put his mouth to the nipple. He touched the trembling tissue with the tip of his tongue and Judy jerked convulsively.

"This the chocolate one?" he asked lightly.

"You son of a bitch!" she hissed, taking perverse delight in knowing she was going to get away with language she'd hardly dared think before.

He took the nipple into his mouth and sucked at it. Tremors raced over her and she held her breath at the fiery, prickly sensations that spread through her breast. In spite of herself, she blew the air out audibly when Cal released the glowing tit and grinned at her.

"Like that, don't you, baby!"

"Fuck you!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

"Yup! You're going to!"

"Oooh!"

He settled over the breast, pulling a great mouthful between his lips and sucking until she thought she could feel a bruise forming. His fingers wandered over her body, caressing the bare flesh above her waist and probing under the crumpled dress. She found it increasingly difficult to sustain her anger. Cal wasn't hurting her; everything he'd done so far had felt marvelous! It was hard to remember when he was giving her so much pleasure that he was humiliating her by keeping her tied to the table.

But when he reached over the dress and felt her thigh she remembered! She tried to jerk her knees together. The only result was a sudden twinge of pain in her groin, where the tendons contracted unsuccessfully and protested. And Cal's coarse hand slid slowly up the inner surface of the thigh toward her unprotected pussy.

"Don't-don't-don't! Stop it, you shit!"

"Aha! Getting close to the short hairs, aren't we!" His fingers lingered on the softer flesh at the top of her thighs, where she could feel her longer hairs touching his hand.

She twisted, jerking at her wrist bindings in an effort to pull herself away from his caress. Even as she did, he ran his fingertips lightly over one pussylip and she sagged against the table with a faint groan of pleasure.

"Unnnhhh! Mmmmm...Please, Cal, please!"

She knew abruptly she wasn't asking him to untie her-she was pleading for even more intimate caresses. She had a gnawing hunger for his cock and tried to remember precisely the weird, wonderful sensation Lowell's had given her.

Cal laid the flat of his hand on the steamy flesh of her pussy, holding it there while she ground herself against his palm. "Hey, you guys! You about finished showing off for Lowell? We've got a live one here!"

"Cal!" she shrieked. "Good God! You really are a prick!"

"A guy's got to be neighborly," he remarked amiably.

His hand squeezed her pussy gently and she permitted herself a vigorous thrust of pleasure.