Chapter 10
HE HADN'T THE SLIGHTEST DOUBT THAT JEANIE would rush to the door and attempt to shoot him in the hallway. He had barely ducked around the corner of the corridor when another bullet crashed into the wall nearby. Pete heard her running toward him and, spotting a door ajar, ran through it and slammed it after him. He heard her run past the door and apparently down the stairs.
"Well, Mr. Drake?" a voice said.
Pete whirled about and saw Harry March standing near a desk. "What the hell are you doing here?" he exploded.
"I might ask you the same thing, Mr. Drake, except that by the sounds of the gunfire I would guess one of the girls has taken a sudden dislike to you."
Pete turned and made sure the door was locked, turned back to face March. "Just how many apartments do you have?"
"Three."
"Three? And where is the third?"
Harry March smiled unpleasantly. "You just left it in a hurry, my friend."
"Quite a coincidence your door standing ajar while she was shooting at me."
Again March smiled unpleasantly. "Not at all. When I heard the first shot, I opened the door. I knew you needed some place to duck into."
"Oh, I see. You also knew I was in Helen's apartment?"
"Yes, of course. I've always known when you go there for your little sex deals."
"What the hell is going on. Why did she try to kill me?"
"I don't believe I'm the one who'll tell you that, Drake."
"Then you know why?"
"I didn't say that. I said, or meant to say, that someone else will have to inform you."
Before Pete could say anything more, Harry turned and left the room, closing the door to the next room after him. Pete sprang across the room and tried to open the second door, but it was locked.
"Hey," he called through the door. "Open up. I want to talk to you."
"Sorry," March called back to him. "I'm leaving by the rear exit. You can go out the front way any time you get enough nerve to try."
"Tell me something," Pete yelled. "Why did you stage that fight scene in the nightclub six weeks ago so I could pick Helen up?"
There was no answer, just a loud laugh, forthcoming from March. Pete heard a door slam a moment later. He tried the door again but gave up trying to get it open. Apparently it was bolted on the other side-there being no sign of a keyhole. Pete shrugged and turned about. He knew one thing for certain; he wasn't going to risk leaving this place until he knew that Jeanie had given up finding him. The trouble was how could he discover when or if she had?
He saw a bottle, picked it up, uncapped it and had a drink. He was about to set it down when he heard footsteps running up the hallway. He listened intently and knew it was a woman doing the running. The sounds stopped about where Helen's apartment was located. He took a chance and opened the outer door and peered up the passageway. There was no one in sight. In order to see the spot where Helen's apartment was, he had to walk up the side hallway a few steps and look around the corner. He saw Jeanie about to enter Helen's place. He ducked back out of view and a moment later heard the door slam.
Cautiously, he walked down the main hallway and away from the apartment. He went down the front stairs and out to the street where his car was parked. He climbed in and tried to start the motor, but it wouldn't start. He continued trying until he was convinced it was futile. He went to a phone booth a block away and called a garage. They promised to send a mechanic over immediately, but it was over an hour before the man arrived in a tow truck. He inspected the car's motor and told Pete the rotor was missing.
"Do you have one with you?" Pete asked, suspecting that March was the one responsible for removing it.
"Yeah, I think so," the man said, and went to the truck to look. He found a rotor and put it in place. "She ought to go now, Mac," he said.
Pete got back into the car and found it started easily. He paid the man and drove home. When he tried the door of his apartment he again found it unlocked. It was evident that someone had a passkey and was found of using it to gain access to his quarters. He grinned when he saw who it was.
She was sitting on the sofa and looking straight at him. "Hello," she said. "Surprised to see me?"
"Yes," he said. "How did you get in, Emily? That's your name, isn't it?"
"Yes," she said, and smiled. "The door was open, so I walked in. I saw you weren't at home, so I decided to wait for you to return. Hope you don't mind."
He shut the door softly. "Why should I mind. Seems like everyone comes and goes around here whether I mind or not. What can I do for you?"
Her breasts heaved. "Well, there is one thing you could do for me, if I had the time."
He ignored her invitation. "Are you looking for your daughter?"
She stopped smiling. "Oh, you know about her, about who I am, I mean."
"Yes."
The blonde, older woman tapped her teeth with her finger. "Can you tell me where I can find Sandra?"
Pete lit a cigarette, inhaled and blew the smoke out as he spoke. "Try her apartment across the hall."
She shook her head thoughtfully. "I have already. She's not there."
"Tough. Why did you let me pick you up at the club. Did you know she lived in the same apartment house as I did?"
"Yes. I was trying to find her."
"Why?"
The woman tapped her teeth again. "To keep her safe, to prevent her from being murdered."
"And who was supposed to murder your daughter."
"I'm not sure."
You mean you don't know?"
"I mean it could have been any one of them."
"You say 'could have been'. Are you telling me she may already be dead?"
"I don't know that. That's why I came here, to see if you could tell me her whereabouts."
"I don't know where she is. Why not ask her husband, Harry March?"
The blonde turned up her nose in disgust. "I wouldn't trust that man one inch, let alone to ask him where Sandra was."
"Why not?"
She took a deep breath and fastened her gaze on him intently. "Because he and his friends, Jeanie Price and Helen Marks, are survivors in joint tenancy."
"You'll have to tell me more than that," he said.
"My husband, George March, is a brother to Harry. He, as I just told you, is a survivor in joint tenancy. That means that George and Harry, as well as the two women I mentioned, all have considerable auto plant stock. George bought it, paid for it, and made the others joint tenants."
"I see. In case George dies, Harry, Jeanie and Helen get the stock?" ' "Yes."
Pete was thinking hard now. Could it be that George March was dead? Had he been killed and placed in that closet at Helen's? Was that why Jeanie had pulled the gun and tried to kill him, because she thought he knew the body was in the closet. It seemed logical. "I don't get it," he said. "Why are you worrying about Sandra?"
"Because," Emily March said slowly, "she knows or suspects that the others are out to kill George."
"You mean, if they haven't already, don't you?"
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Why do you say that?"
He didn't answer her but said something else. "How do I fit into all this? I'm curious about it."
"I can tell you. You're a big insurance man. The original idea was to get an insurance man hooked in some way, make him fall for either Helen or Jeanie, or maybe get him to taking dope. Something, anything to get him hooked so he would be in their power. Then they were going to take out a big insurance policy on George, too. They looked up several insurance men in this city. You were the only big shot in the business who wasn't married. Do you understand?"
Pete rubbed his jaw. "I understand what you're saying, but it sounds fishy."
"Sure, it does. That's why they dropped the life insurance policy. They found out you weren't sap enough, maybe."
"Thanks for the compliment," he said dryly.
She just looked at him.
"Tell me this. How does it happen you know all about this?"
Emily got to her feet and walked to the door and opened it. "Because the whole bit was my plan in the first place. I arranged to have George make them survivors in joint tenancy. You want to know why? Because I hate George for leaving me for Jeanie. I hate all of them for one reason or another. I knew they would conspire to kill George, that they would then be caught for the murder, and I would be rid of all of them, including that skunk of a Harry, who married my sick daughter and nearly drove her crazy mistreating her."
Before Pete could say anything she walked from the apartment, leaving him standing there extremely confused. He poured himself a drink and stood in the middle of the room sipping it. Why had Emily told him-what she had? He was a stranger to her. If she had really planned the whole affair was it probable that she would admit it to someone she hardly knew. Pete shook his head. It didn't seem-likely that she would. He was half-convinced that she had been lying to him, but if so, for what reason. Also, if all she had wanted to know, that first time he had met her, was where her daughter lived, why had she so freely offered her body to him? That hadn't been necessary. She could have come to his place, noted the address and cut out on him. Pete smiled ruefully. This sort of reasoning was of little use. She was obviously a hot woman. Why shouldn't she make a play for him if she felt like it?
He finished his drink and decided he would forget about the whole deal. It didn't concern him now that he had gotten away from Helen's place without being hit with a slug from Jeanie's gun. It occurred to him that he should report the matter to the police, but he knew immediately that he wouldn't do this.
He wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair and not become involved in it any more than he was. He wondered if he would be able to do this. He re-called to mind the tantalizing body of Helen Marks. Would he be determined enough to forego the pleasures it gave him?" Was it true what Emily had saidthat the two girls depended on his being hooked on sex with them? Was he hooked that way, with Helen especially?
He shook his head again. The girls had miscalculated. True, he enjoyed laying them, but he would never become hooked on sex with just one woman or even two.
There was just too many lovely broads in the world.
He had no more time to think. The door burst open and Sandra came into the room. "Pete," she said. "Where have you been?"
He glanced up at her quickly. "Where," he said, "have you been? Your mother was just here looking for you."
Sandra frowned. "She's got a lot of nerve coming here. That old bat, I wish she'd get out of my life for good."
"Oh, come on, she's not an old bat. She's not a bad gal at all."
Sandra's brown eyes flashed. "I see she's got you hoodwinked, too. She gets everyone on her side sooner or later."
"Sit down and have a drink," he said soothingly. "You seem to be upset about something."
"I hate her, that's all. I wish she'd stay away from my man."
Pete got her a drink and handed it to her. "Sandy," he said slowly. "I'm not your man. Your man is your husband."
She tossed off her drink as a lush would do it, in one fast gulp and not choking on it, not getting tears in her eyes. She slammed the glass down. "I can't stand him. He's not my man. You are." She slumped down on the sofa, her skirt flying high on her well-shaped legs.
Pete glanced at the flesh glowing above her stockings. He began to get a hard-on, so he looked away from her quickly. He didn't want to make love to her right now and knew if he allowed himself to think along those lines it would be only a matter of moments before he would crawl on top and give it to her.
She smiled then. "I see you're ready, Pete," she said softly, her anger seemingly gone.
His answer was to pour himself another drink and walk away from her. "One thing I want you to get straight," he heard himself say. "I'm not your man. Understand me?"
"Please don't say that, Pete. I really love you, honest I do."
He took a sip of the whiskey. "You've got hot pants, that's all. You don't love me." He half-expected her to flare up at him, but she didn't
"You're mistaken," she said calmly. "I don't mean about the hot pants part. I admit I have hot pants for you. What's wrong with that? I'm hot for you because I love you. At least..." Here she paused briefly. "At least, I haven't tried to use you for the sake of money the way your other so-called friends have."
"Oh...such as who?"-
"You know or you ought to, if you're as smart as you seem to think. I'm talking about Helen and Jeanie."
"You sound as if you know them quite well."
"I know them," she said coolly. "Seems to me it's about time you did." He just looked at her.
"They were in the mental hospital the same time I was. Both of 'em were there for extreme nympho-
mania. That surprise you? I was the one who told them about George, what a cunt-hunter he was. That's why Jeanie ingratiated herself with him when she got out. She. looked him up and let him do whatever he wanted to her. She was after his money, she and Helen, and my husband, too,"
Pete scarcely heard anything she said after that one startling word. He found it had excited the hell out of him. He put down his glass, went to the sofa, and pushed her down on her back.
"Pete," she said, her tone changing. "Oh...Pete."
"Don't talk," he told her. "Pull up your skirt, baby. I'm going to do something to you right now."
"You gonna lay me, honey?" she asked, her eyes wide, her tone again changing so that she sounded like a teen-age kid.
Even this excited him. "Right," he said. "You're getting screwed as of right now."
"Oh...Pete...I love to hear you talk sexy. Talk that way some more before you do it."
"Pull up your skirt and take off your pants," he said.
She did so, never taking her eyes from him during the process. "Boy," she said. "You have an awful lot of lust in those eyes of yours."
"That's because you make me lustful, baby."
"Do I, Pete? Gee, I'm glad. I like making you hot."
"Well, you have and I am. Spread those long legs of yours, kid, I'm coming in."
She sighed and spread her legs as he threw himself on top of her and worked her body in a manner suggesting he might never have the chance again.
When she told him later she was afraid the others might attempt to kill her because she knew so much about their plans, he agreed to allow her to stay with him overnight. The day dragged on and ten o'clock arrived. He picked her up-she was lying on the sofa-and carried her into the bedroom. He had already made sure the door of his apartment was locked.
Pete knew he had to exercise caution. Jeanie and Helen were also former mental patients, which meant they were probably not to be trusted in any event, regardless of the fact that Jeanie had already tried to shoot him. He suspected that one of the others would attempt to get into his apartment during the night.
"Sandy," he said, as he placed her on the bed, "Are you the one who has the passkey to my place? I have to know."
"No," she said. "I don't have a key. I think Harry does, though."
"You're certain about that?"
"I'm certain I don't have one."
"How did you get into my place that first time?"
"He had already been here, Harry, I mean. He had been reading your letters and so on. They wanted to find out all they could about you." She paused. "I guess he forgot to lock the door when he left. So...I just walked in, I don't know why. I sometimes do things that seem to have no logical explanation-don't ask me why. I just don't know."
"Had you seen me before then?"
She actually blushed. "Yes. Twice. You know something? I wanted you to get to me more than anything else in the world. Isn't that strange?"
He was a man and, of course, he had a male ego. This pleased him. "I find that hard to believe," he said, not meaning it.
"Hey," she said sitting up, "Why do you men think only women show off their sex appeal? Men have it and show it, too. You're a very sexy-acting man. Sex shouts when you come around."
That was an odd but original way of putting it. "Thanks," he said. "You're a great ego-builder."
"So are you, Pete."
"You'd better undress, baby. You'll get your clothes wrinkled."
"All right, darling."
He went to the bathroom, undressed and put pajamas on. When he returned she was lying naked on the bed, one leg drawn up bewitchingly.
"I'll get you a pair of pajamas if you like," he offered.
"Oh no. I love to lie around in the nude. Why don't you take yours off, Pete?"
He grinned. "Do you ever think of anything other than sex?".
She laughed Like a little girl. "Sometimes. Right now, for example, I'm think about how hungry I am. I haven't eaten anything since breakfast."
"The kitchen," he pointed out, "is off the front room. You want to fix something for us to eat, help yourself."
"AU right. Can I do it without putting on my clothes?"
He grinned again. "I guess you can. Be careful not to splatter grease on yourself."
"I'll be careful. Besides, all I know how to make is tea and toast. I'm not much of a cook. My mother never taught me anything."
"Couldn't you have taught yourself?" he asked dryly.
She didn't take offense at his remark as he thought she might. Instead she giggled and left the room, promising to be back with the toast and tea in just a few minutes.
Pete lay on the bed, his arms stretched over his head. He felt strangely good, relaxed, at ease with the world. He liked the idea of having her around, of having her in bed with him during the night. There was nothing like having a woman in bed with you, he reasoned. It made him worthwhile.
It was a good ten minutes before she returned with a tray of toast and a pot of tea. They sat on the side of the bed and .ate their small repast. Pete hadn't realized it, but he was hungry, too. He wished she knew how to cook a steak-he had a couple of them in the refrigerator.
When they had finished they lay down beside one another and he put his arm about her lush body, drawing her close to him. Running his other hand up and down her body, he marveled at the smooth texture of her skin. Touching her, rubbing her, in this manner caused him to become rigid and she sensed it, though he wasn't exposed. Reaching down, she touched him first and then began to finger him lightly, using slow up and down strokes.
"Hey," he said, breathing harder now, "you keep that up and something will happen to you, baby."
She giggled like a kid. "I hope so. I can't get enough of you, darling."
There she was, calling him "darling" again. He said nothing about it, though it made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Why couldn't women just take their sex and enjoy it without throwing little love phrases? There was no love between them-only passion and passion wasn't necessarily love.
"Darling,", she said, using the word again. "I'd like to try something. Would you mind?"
"What?"
"I'd like to get on top of you. May I...please?"
The way she said "May I...please?" really sent him. He patted her stomach. "Sure. Crawl on. It might be fun that way for once."
She was above him almost before he got the words out. Her breasts pressed down on his chest-he had removed the pajama top-and her loins were down tight against him. He felt her untying the string of his pajamas and pushing them down his legs sufficiently. She took hold of him and pressed her loins down against him, effectuating the penetration herself. He lay quietly as she held him in and began to move her hips about and up and down slowly. The contact was broken several times before she apparently learned how to do it properly. And then she begged him to hold her buttocks down tightly, which he did, enjoying every passionate moment of this new approach. New to him, at least.
He was surprised at the efficiency of her, the way she managed to' extract the surplus energy from him so quickly. He spread his legs, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and felt the surge of his sudden release.
He was even more surprised a moment later when he felt something cold against his temple.
He opened his eyes and saw the figures in the room.
He saw Sandra rise and look down into his eyes. Her face seemed to be expressionless.
He drew in his breath, looked at her, looked sideways at the gun against his head.
"You got us something to eat, baby," he said coldly, "and you also unlocked the front door for your friends, didn't you?"
He didn't hear her reply if there was one.
The gun slammed down hard on his head and a deep blackness engulfed him. He seemed to be falling into a bottomless pit.
CHAPTER ll
WHEN HE REGAINED COMPLETE CONSCIOUSNESS he was lying on a bed somewhere, but it wasn't his bed. He knew this immediately. He blinked his eyes, tried to rise, but his head hurt so badly he law back down quickly and groaned. Closing his eyes, he drifted off into a kind of half-sleep and remained in that state for some time. Later, he again opened his eyes, sat up and looked about him.
He had been right the first time. This wasn't his room. He had never been in this room before. He was fuUy dressed.
He got up gingerly from the bed and took a few steps. He was slightly dizzy but not too much so. Leaving the bedroom, he walked into another, much larger room and saw he was in some kind of a hunting lodge. There were mountings on the wall of bear, deer and moose. He shook his head and tried to recall how he had gotten here, but nothing seemed clear to him.
"Hello, Mr. Drake," a female voice said from across the large room.
Pete blinked and tried to focus his eyes on the spot where the voice had come from, but he could see no one at first.
"Over here, Mr. Drake." The voice sounded familiar.
He walked across the floor until he saw her. She was sitting in a low chair and was dressed in slacks and a sweater.
"Hello, Emily," he said, his speech sounding off to him. "What happened. Where are we?"
"In a hunting lodge on the top of a small mountain. They forced me to come along. We're alone here, you and I. Are you hungry?"
He shook his head, stopped shaking it when pain struck him in the temple. "Did you clout me?" he asked, forgetting she had said someone else had brought them here.
"No. I'm on your side, Pete. I'm not on their side. You might as well know the truth. Both of us are prisoners here."
"Prisoners?" he said dully. "What in hell for?"
"We both know too much," she said, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke, blowing it out slowly afterward. She appeared to be studying him.
"Sounds like a TV play. What do you mean, we know too much?"
She didn't answer him but took another drag on the cigarette and watched the smoke curl up toward the ceiling.
"Where's your daughter? Where's Sandra?"
She laughed. ?You can forget about her. She's not the innocent little girl you thought, or I thought. She's in it with the others all the way."
A thought came to him. "Is all of this because
George has been murdered?"
She took another drag. "Right, Mr. Drake. Pete, I mean. We might as well call each other by the first name. We'll be alone here together for some time, I imagine."
"Then his body was in that closet in Helen's apartment?"
"Yes, I think so. You see, they didn't have a wild party there the night before-they had a knock-down-, and-drag-out fight. George got himself knocked off."
"If we are alone here then we aren't prisoners," he said, thinking fast. "Why don't we get the hell out of here...now?"
She laughed. "We can't, Pete. Only way out or in is by helicopter. You got a helicopter we can use?"
"You mean they're leaving us here to starve to death?"
She laughed. "No. We have plenty of food and drink, lots of cigarettes and other necessities. We also have plenty of time on our hands." She looked at him carefully. "How's your head? Do you feel okay?"
"I'm all right. I could use a drink. Any whiskey?"
"Better lie down on the sofa. I'll get you a drink."
He saw the sofa, went to it and lay down. The room began to swim. He closed his eyes and a moment later felt her hand on his forehead.
"Come on, drink this. It'll make you feel better, maybe."
He took the glass from her and hastily swallowed the contents. It burned all the way to his stomach. "I'll have another, make it a big one," he told her. She brought him the drink and he tossed it off as quickly as he had the first. Sitting up a little, he looked at her and half-grinned. "That stuff works. I feel better already unless it's just my imagination."
"Probably a little of both," she said, and took the glass from him.
He got to his feet. "Lying down like that makes me dizzy. Must be from the sock on the head."
"Yeah. Harry walloped you, all right, the damned louse."
"You told me that this whole plan was yours, that you schemed to get them to knock off George and then, you hoped,. get caught at it. How do I know I can believe you when you tell me they forced us to come here? Maybe you had me brought here for some reason."
"Well, maybe," she said, "but not-likely. I don't relish being left alone oh top of a mountain. If what you say is true, wouldn't I just cut out and leave you here by yourself?"
He. nodded. "Sounds logical."
"You're stuck with having to believe me. I'm stuck with knowing my own daughter is a stinker."
"I thought she was HI," he said carefully.
"She was but not any more. Not much anyway. That little girl act she puts on...Well, it's just an act."
He considered his next remark, decided to say it. "She told me once that your husband George, her stepfather, had made love to her, had gotten her pregnant. Is that true?"
"Yes. I knew about it all along. George March was a lousy ass."
"I see," he said for want of anything better to say.
"Oh, don't misunderstand me. She was perfectly willing that he take her to bed with him. She's strictly a nympho, has always been."
"What do you think they intend doing with us?"
She shrugged. "How. would I know? Maybe they will leave us here to starve eventually."
He rubbed his head gingerly. "Then I'd better get busy and find a way to climb down off the damned mountain."
She shook her head. "Can't be done."
"But someone had to get up here originally. How did they build this place?"
"Brought everything in by way of helicopter. Everything you see about 'you got here that way. The mountain can't be scaled. I know this. Well, maybe professionals could do it. I wonder."
"Where is this place located?"
"Northern part of the state. Isolated spot. No one lives within fifty miles of the place. That's why Harry built it here a few years ago."
"He wanted to be alone, is that it?"
She grinned. "He wanted a place to bring young boys."
"Oh, then he is that kind of a guy.? "More or less."
He saw she was looking at him strangely. "What's the matter?" he asked, his head still not as clear as it should have been.
"I was just thinking. Everyone has been talking about how good you are in bed...I-er-how are you feeling, Pete?"
He grinned. "Okay, I guess."
She smiled and brushed her short blonde hair back, though it didn't need brushing back. A look of lust came into her eyes and she began unbuttoning her sweater. "I'd like to get some of what you've got. Any objections?"
He grinned again. "None of you gals ever wait for the guy to make the first move. Is this some kind of west coast deal, this aggressiveness on the part of females?"
She laughed. "West coast has nothing to do with it. It's just plan old lust, my friend."
"That," he said, "is something I can understand."
She had her sweater unbuttoned all the way now. "You want to try me?"
He stared at her. "Give me one of your cigarettes."
Her mouth opened and closed. "Is that your way of telling me to get lost?"
He yawned. "A cigarette, please. I don't have any."
She sighed, got him a cigarette and even lighted it for him. He leaned back on the sofa, put his feet on a stool and puffed. "Might be kind of nice being isolated here for a time," he commented. "You suppose they'll come back?"
"I don't know."
"Have you-er-seen a gun around the lodge anywhere?"
She nodded. "There's a deer rifle in the corner but no shells."
"I see," he said. "I'll have to take a look around for shells."
"I wish," she said coyly, "that you hadn't changed the subject." Her breasts hung out in full view.
"Oh...sorry...you got hot pants?"
She laughed. "I've always got 'em. So have you, from what I've heard."
"Your breasts," he said. :"They're nice."
"Thank you." She came over and sat beside him. "Want to play with 'em?"
"No."
She frowned. "And I thought you were the guy who jumped at the chance of sex any time, anywhere."
"You've been listening to your friends too much."
"They're not my friends," she said fiercely. "I have no use for any of them."
"Including your daughter?"
"Including my daughter."
He was silent for a moment. Then: "I don't understand why I was out for so long. Here it's broad daylight. A blow on the head couldn't knock me out for that length of time."
"Helen gave you a sedative to keep you quiet."
"Where did they pick you up?"
"They tricked me into coming along," was all she would say.
"What did they do with George?"
"His body is at the bottom of Lake Huron, I imagine. No one will ever find it. Lake Huron is a pretty large body of water."
"I don't believe you," he said flatly. "You slipped up there, Emily. They wouldn't want him not to be found. If they don't have a body how can they prove he is dead?"
She flushed. "Please don't call me a liar. I'm only relating what they told me."
"Then they lied to you."
"Possibly."
She lifted one of her breasts suggestively and let it fall back in place. He smiled and, reaching over, cupped his hand over one of them. "Do you like that?" he asked softly.
"Yes. And it's about time you got around to it. After all, what else can we do on this damned mountain?"
Pete laughed. "You may be right. How much food do we have?"
"Lots of it. We can stay here indefinitely."
"You don't seem too worried about the prospects of it."
"Not as long as I have got you here to make love to me."
"You lay it right on the line, don't you?" She flushed again. "Certainly. You're a man, I'm a woman. I want you to screw me. What's so terrible about that?"
"Nothing. It Just amuses me the way you go about it. Why are you so frantic."
"I'm not. Just eager."
For no particular reason he got to his feet and picked up the deer rifle, inspecting it. He put it down and returned to the sofa. "The gun," he said, "has been fired recently. What do you know about that?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "Nothing. I know nothing about guns, never fired one in my life."
He sat down and resumed smoking his cigarette. She immediately threw her leg over his and placed her head on his shoulder. "Honey," she said softly. "Never mind about anything else, make love to me. I want it so."
He lifted her leg and lay down on his side. "If you want to get down on your knees," he said, "help yourself."
She flushed. "I don't want you that way. I want it the regular way."
He was enjoying himself now. "My way or no way," he told her.
"Is that the kind of guy you are? Why-can't you do it to me the real way?"
"Because I want to see if you're really hot or if all this is just some kind of act, baby."
"Oh...I see. You think I've been lying to you."
"It's possible. I don't trust any of you people now."
"You can trust me, honey."
"You're calling me 'honey' now, I see. Why?"
"I don't know. I didn't know I was, didn't realize it."
"Well, are you getting on your knees or aren't you?"
"N-no. I don't want to."
She removed her sweater suddenly, tossing it to one side. Off came her slacks and he saw she was wearing, oddly enough, nylons. She wore no panties but only a garter belt around her middle. The nylons and garter belt were black and extremely seductive-looking. She glanced at his startled face, smiled coyly, lustfully, and got to her feet and began to parade in front of him, her buttocks wiggling about in an exaggerated fashion. He became erect immediately.
"What are you doing that for?" he asked tensely.
"I've got to win you over somehow. If seeing me walking about naked except for my shoes and stockings doesn't do it, then I'd better give up being a woman." She placed both hands on her hips and gyrated her loins in a maddening manner.
He snubbed out his cigarette and lay there watching her. Okay, let her put on her seductive act. He would hold out as long as he could. This should be interesting.
"Damn it, why don't you just grab me and lay me?" she flared. "You're supposed to be so sexy. I'm beginning to wonder if you are or not."
"I'm horny," he returned. "I want to see just how sexy you are, as I said."
"What do I have to do to prove it, rape you?"
"No. Just get down on your knees and beg for it, baby."
"The hell I will!" she shouted.
Pete grinned. Good. Let her get angry. "Suit yourself. Me, I'm just going to watch you."
"Oh...you," she sputtered. "What's wrong with you?"
"Not a thing."
She got a sly look on her pretty face as she walked close to him, stopping so that her cunt was only a foot from his face. "You first," she said tightly. "Then I will."
"No," he said. "You first."
"You're just being stubborn."
"What's the matter with you? You want sex and yet you won't do it the way I want it."
She sighed and dropped to her knees and began to unzip him. "All right, honey, you win. I want to be your woman while we're stranded here, so I'll do it your way this time."
"Good," he said, and lay quiet as she lowered her head to his cock. He felt the cool wetness of her lips about him a moment later and then he forgot about the predicament they were in, losing himself to the sheer pleasure of sex in this manner.
He stood in front of the lodge some time later looking down at the sheer drop of perhaps a thousand feet to the valley below. He felt elated at having won her over to his side, but now, if he could only find some way to get the hell off this hill. He studied the terrain and knew there was little hope of ever crawling down the side of the mountain, Pete had done some mountain climbing and knew quite a bit about it. No one, in his opinion, could go down this slope without proper equipment. Harry March had picked a good place for privacy.
"Well?" she said, coming up behind him. "What did I tell you?"
Pete moved away from the edge quickly. There was no telling what this woman might do-he didn't trust her in any way.
"You were right," he commented, keeping his eyes on her. "No one could go up or down. The slope is too steep."
She dressed again. Now she pulled her sweater tip about her neck. "It's too cool out here. Lets go back inside."
He said nothing, but continued to stare at her.
She took his arm. "Please," she begged. "I took you. It's been an hour or longer. Come inside and satisfy me, won't you...please? I'm getting desperate."