Chapter 2
HE PARKED HIS CAR IN THE LOT BEHIND THE apartment building in which he lived and entered the place through the rear. Going to his door, he was surprised to find it standing open. He hesitated a moment before entering, wondering how he had happened to forget to lock the place the night before, then finally went in and was further surprised to see a brunette sitting on the sofa and having a drink. Pete blinked and stared at her. He didn't know her, had never seen the girl.
She didn't get to her feet but simply smiled at him. "Hello," she said. "I helped myself to a drink."
Pete closed the door carefully. "So I see. Who are you, may I ask?"
She took a sip of her drink, studied him over the rim of the glass. "I just moved into the apartment across the hall."
"I see. So you found my door unlocked and decided you'd come in and have a drink."
She put the glass down and rose to her feet, smoothing her skirt down as she did so. She had lovely, long, well-tapered legs. Her skirt was very short and revealed much of her thighs. "Sounds kind of crazy, I know, but I lost the key to my apartment. I couldn't stand out in the hall, I couldn't find the super to get his passkey, so I just walked in here and sat down."
Pete removed his jacket and threw it down. "It's Sunday morning," he said. "I'll join you in a drink."
She smiled. "Thanks. The moment I saw you I figured you were an okay guy."
Pete fixed himself a drink, stood holding the glass and looking at her. "Sit back down. You look uncomfortable standing there like that."
She sat down and her skirt crept high on her legs. "Thanks. Hope you aren't angry at me."
"You have a name?" Pete asked. "Mine is Pete Drake."
She smiled again. "Mine is Sandra."
He studied her. "You have a last name, too?"
"March," she said. "Sandy March."
"Very pretty girl," he commented. "Mind if I sit beside you?"
She moved over on the sofa. "Please do, Pete."
He again looked her over, noting the way her dark hair hung down around her shoulders. Obviously, this girl didn't believe in hairdos-hers was neat and brushed but not set or phony-looking. Her skirt was unbelievably high on her legs-he had the impression she wanted it that way-and he could see her flesh above the stockings. He tried to figure out what she was doing here. He didn'tbelieve her story about losing her key. It sounded too far out. He caught the scent of her perfume then and decided he liked it.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
He took a swallow of his drink. "About you."
She laughed. "If I bother you I'll leave."
He took another swallow. "You don't bother me that way," he told her. "What I mean is, I like being bothered by a pretty brown-eyed gal. There, I said it right. I-er-am wondering about something. Don't you know if you walk into a bachelor's apartment without knowing him you're liable to get raped?"
Her eyelids fluttered and she put down her glass. "Oh...well. . .that really wouldn't be so bad, would it? Especially if the bachelor is a good-looking guy like yourself."
This sounded like an invitation. Pete grinned. "I'm glad you agree with me. I think it sounds okay, too."
She turned on the sofa and looked deep into his eyes. "You wouldn't rape me, would you? I mean, really."
Pete could see all the way up her legs now. He grinned slightly. "I might, if you don't put your legs together and do it right away."
She blushed slightly but didn't put her legs together. "Do you think I'd better leave now?" There was a mysterious look in her eyes.
He finished his drink, set the glass down. "Stay here as long as you like. You can use my phone and keep calling down to the super's office until you locate a key. Me, I'm taking a bath and getting shaved. Can't stand those whiskers any longer."
"You look good with whiskers," she offered.
"Thanks. They're coming off just the same."
He started to walk from the room but stopped and turned around. He caught her with her hand down inside her blouse. She didn't see him watching her as she moved her breasts about. He felt the stirring again.
"Better watch that," he said, grinning. "You will get raped if you don't."
She glanced up, her lips parting. "Oh, I thought you'd left the room." She removed her hand and he noted how her breasts projected. He would have liked to see them minus the confining cloth of her blouse. She closed her mouth, pressed her lips tightly together and then relaxed and smiled. "I really did," she added. "I'm not trying to set you up." She paused. "Not in particular, that is." She had a look of something akin to lust in her brown eyes.
Pete waved his hand. "As I said, I'm taking a bath. See you in a few minutes."
"Would you...like me to help you?"
Pete's jaw dropped. "What did you say?"
She repeated her question, never once removing her gaze from his.
"I'd say you were a fairly aggressive gal," he remarked. "If you want to give me a bath...come on, I'm game." It appeared that he had met two sexpots in one twenty-four hour period. What could be better?
"I was just kidding," she said. "I guess it was out of place. Sorry. Mind if I have another drink?"
"Help yourself, baby," he told her, and went to the bathroom and stripped off his clothing. He turned on the water in the shower and stepped under it, lathering himself well with soap.
It wasn't more than two minutes later that he saw her enter the room and stare at his nude body. He had mixed feelings about this. He wanted her to do this and yet wondered if perhaps She might not be a bit on the psycho side.
"You mind if I watch?" she asked, her lips parted. Definitely now, there was lust in her eyes. Anyone could have seen it.
The water was running into his eyes, so he moved his head a little to escape it. "You're something," he remarked. "You're really something. Are you always this way?"
She laughed. "Not always. Only when I see a guy I think I can like."
"What makes you think you like me?" He rubbed more soap on his muscular body and she watched his every move.
"That's a good question. I can't answer it. I like your looks. You have a very...strong body, haven't you?"
He bent his head back and let the water run over his face briefly, then moved out from under it partially. "My body will do till I get another," he said. He had to say something.
She took a towel off the rack and held it. "If you're through, get out and I'll dry you, if you don't mind."
He gave his head a shake. This girl was unbelievable. She must be nuts. He turned the water off after a moment and stepped out of the shower. She began to dry him with the towel and he knew it was going to happen. When he turned around she saw him and sucked in her breath in a gasp of pleasure.
"You're really built,-' she said, her lips parting again. She was panting a little and this made his erection all the more pronounced.
"What did you expect to happen? You can't do this sort of a thing to a guy and not..."
"Please," she said. "Don't be embarrassed. It excites me."
"Who's embarrassed? I'm not. Just puzzled. Never knew a girl to be so...well, so...hell, I don't know what I'm trying to say."'
She came around in front of him and ran the towel
up and down suggestively on his stomach. He didn't know if he should grin or grab her. He wanted to do the latter but something stopped him. Her dark hair was close to his chest and he could have kissed the top of her head easily. Her blouse became a little wet from touching his body, but she seemed to pay no attention to this. When she ran the towel slowly and gently over his hard-on, it was more than he could stand. He threw his arms around her and kissed her mouth hungrily. Much to his astonishment, she jumped away from him and struck at him with the wet towel.
"Hey," he said, flinching a little. "What's with you?"
Her eyes flashing anger, she threw the towel down and flounced out of the bathroom.
"Hey," he called after he. "I didn't mean to offend you. Come back." She didn't return and he heard his apartment door being slammed hard. He stood there in bewilderment. What a strange girl. After a moment he got another towel and finished the job of drying himself. He shaved, changed into clean clothing and went to the door. He looked into the hall. The door of apartment five stood ajar. He crossed the hall and knocked.
A tall, middle-aged man wearing glasses came to the door. He peered at Drake owilishly. "Yes," he snapped. "What is it?"
"I live across the hall. I saw a girl enter here a few minutes ago, thought I knew her. Does Sandra March live here?"
"She's my wife, young man. You can't really know her. We just moved into the city yesterday from the West Coast. But how do you know her name?" He was genuinely puzzled.
"Sorry," Pete mumbled. "My mistake. My apologies, Mr. March."
The tall, thin man appeared disturbed. "I know what happened. She came to see you, lied to you, probably tried to make you. I'm sorry, fella, but my wife isn't well. Hope you will overlook her actions. She does wild things like that all the time."
"I see," Pete said, more clearly now. "Matter of face,' she did enter my place without my permission Said she couldn't find her key. Told me her name." He didn't bother to tell her husband anything else.
"Do me a favor and try to forget it, will you?"
Pete nodded. "Sure." He turned and walked back into his apartment and closed the door. What a hell of an experience.
When he arrived home from work at the insurance office the following evening, after stopping along the way for a couple of double belts, he saw Sandra March coming out the door of her apartment. He inserted the key in his lock and pretended he hadn't seen her.
"Hey," she said when he stepped into the room, "what's the matter, you mad at me or something?"
He turned and stared at her. "Hi," he said. "No. I'm not mad. I-er-had a talk with your husband."
She took the remark in stride and smiled nicely. "Okay, so I lied about myself. What's so terrible about that? Sometimes a lie can make things more exciting."
Her eyes looked so innocent that he grinned. "Have fun," he said and started to close the door.
"Wait a minute. I want to talk to you, Pete."
He didn't want to talk to her-he had other plans. These included showering and cleaning up and going to Helen Marks' place without calling her first. He wanted to surprise her. But the look on Sandra's face did something to him, and he found he didn't want to be unkind to her. "Okay," he told her.
"You want to come in or would your husband object?"
"He doesn't mind. Besides, he's not at home right now."
Pete pushed the door all the way open and moved out of her way as she entered and closed the door herself. He wished she had not done that, but what could he say? "Okay," he said. "What do you want to talk about?" He hoped she would get it over with quickly.
She pursed her pretty lips as though deep in thought. Finally she spoke. "I'm not crazy. My husband probably told you I am. I'm...I'm...a liar, yes, and I'm what they call psycho-sexual, but I'm not crazy. I..."
"He didn't tell me you were crazy," Pete said, for something to say. "He said you were...odd," he added, lying just a little.
She shrugged and walked across the room, her hips swaying suggestively. "Okay, I'm odd." She brushed her long, dark hair away from her face. "I like you," she went on. "You really turn me on. Anything wrong with that?"
Pete shook his head. "Not as long as you remember you have a husband."
She laughed bitterly. "How could I ever forget? That mean, sadistic bastard. He'd tie me to a bed and cut me with a razor if he thought he could get away with it."
Pete figured she was exaggerating. "Why live with him if he mistreats you?"
"Have to. No other means of subsistence."
"Get a job," he suggested practically. "No thanks. I'm too lazy."
He grinned. "At least you're honest about that." A strange glint came into her pretty brown eyes, but it disappeared almost immediately. "Thanks," she said dryly.
"Don't mention it," he said, with equal dryness.
She stood on one leg mostly, the other one stuck out at an angle in the manner of a fashion model. Somehow it didn't look appealing to him.
"Hey," she said suddenly. "You...feel like having some fun?"
He rubbed his chin. "I suppose you mean sexually?' She laughed. "What else?"
How the hell was he to answer this? If he replied in the negative he'd sound like an ass. If he said yes he would run the risk of getting involved with a woman who wasn't quite right in the head. He said the only thing he could say. "Sorry, I have a date."
Her eyes became clouded momentarily. "Fluff her off, Pete. Stay here. I'll do more for you than any other woman ever will."
There was nothing to do but open the door, which he did. "Go back to your place," he told her, gently. "Your husband may be home by now."
There was a sudden hostile look on her face...and then it was gone. This woman could change from one mood to another very quickly. She shrugged and walked past him and through the doorway. "Okay, Petey, you don't know what you're missing. Let me tell you something-I'll get to you yet...and you'll love it."
Pete said nothing and closed the door. Restarted to pour himself a drink when the door opened suddenly The girl stood there, her blouse and bra off. She held these in her hand. " Look at me, damn you !" she cried. "You ever see a pair of tits like mine?"
Before he could move or say anything she disappeared from view. He stood motionless for a moment, then closed the door. Shaking his head and not knowing whether to laugh or be serious, he poured a drink of brandy and tossed it down. He had another.
"What a wild gal," he muttered. "Never saw anything like her before. I thought Helen Marks was something, but she was a cold fish compared to this gal." The only thing wrong with this, he knew, was that Helen wasn't psycho, and therefore couldn't be expected to be quite so deliberate about her sexual aggressiveness.
Some thirty minutes later he was in his Buick driving toward Third Avenue, the street on which Helen's apartment house was located. He parked in front at the curb and entered the building, going up" to the second floor. He knocked on her door and she opened it immediately.
"Hi," she said, smiling. "I had an idea you might drop over tonight." She spun around on one bane hell. "So I'm all dressed and ready for you, Pete."
"Hi," he said, grinning. Undressed seemed to be a more appropriate word for it. She wore only a tiny miniskirt and a bra that was next to nothing.
She closed the door, took his hand, and standing on her toes, kissed his mouth quickly. "I'm so glad you came."
"I'm glad I happened to meet you Saturday night," he told her.
"So'm I. We had a ball yesterday morning. At least, I did."
Pete started. Up to now he hadn't seen the other girl who was present. His mouth hung open as he looked at her swiftly. She was about the same age as Helen-twenty-two or so-had red hair and a build that was as good as Helen's. She had a look of lust in her eyes, too, as did Helen. What had he stumbled into?
Helen saw him glancing at the redhead. "Oh...Pete...this is Jeanie Price, a-friend of mine". "Hello, Jeanie," he said.
Jeanie Price smiled at him from across the room where she apparently had been looking out the window. "Hi," she said. "Helen has been telling me wild things about you."
"Such as what?" he asked with a grin.
Jeanie grinned back. "I'd better not tell you. Helen would get mad at me."
"Jeanie," Helen broke in, "I'm sorry. I can't go to the club with you tonight for obvious reasons."
Jeanie crossed the room, stopped by the door and looked at Pete, up and down, in an appraising manner. "I don't blame you, Helen. If I had a chunk of meat like him I wouldn't go to the club, either." She winked at Pete. "Good-bye, Pete. See you around, baby."
Pete grinned again. "Sure," he said. "The sooner the better."
"Hey, you two. Stop making passes at one another," Helen cried.
"Sorry," Jeanie said. "Can't help it, Helen. You know me." She winked at Pete again and left.
He lit a cigarette without thinking to offer Helen one. He was delightfully confused for the moment. All these sexy girls he had run into in the last day or so-it was enough to make any guy delightfully confused."
"Hey, man," Helen said. "You look real sharp. Nice suit, you're wearing. Olive green, isn't it?"
"Yes, You look pretty nice yourself. Flesh, isn't it?"
Helen laughed. "Sharp in the end, too, I see. Why don't you kiss me, man?"
"Sure." He took her in his arms and kissed her wetly on the mouth, releasing her, after a long moment.
She brushed her hair back. "Whew, who taught you to kiss that way?"
"My mother," he said flippantly. "Some mother. How about a drink."
"Fine. Make it a double."
"I'll make it a triple. I have dark, sinister plans for you."
"Oh...such as what?" he asked, laughing.
She arched her brows as she poured him a long, straight drink. "That'd be telling, man."
"Tell me anyway." He took the glass out of her hand.
"I don't think I'd better," she said slowly. "You might take off and leave."
"Try me," he said, taking a sip of the whiskey.
She poured a drink for herself. "No. I'll just let you find out a little at a time."
"Come on," he said, grinning at her. "Tell me. You've got me curious as hell. What is it you have planned for me?"
She lifted her glass to her mouth and drank all of the juice in one gulp. Her eyes watered briefly as she turned to look at him. "Can't tell you, but I can show you."
"All right, show me." Pete set his glass down. "We have to go to the bedroom," she said carefully.
"Let's go. like I said, I'm curious as hell."
She walked away from him, her hips swaying nicely and he followed her into the bedroom. She shoved her panties down without removing the miniskirt. Lying down across the bed, she lifted her skirt, placing her hand over her pussy.
"Now do you know what I have planned, Pete?" she asked, her. voice very husky.
He moistened his lips. "Yes. I know what you have in mind."
Her eyes took on a look of wild lust as she removed her hand, exposing herself to his gaze. "Will you get down on your knees, Pete? Please? I must have you kiss me there."