Chapter 9
IT WAS WHEN HE AGAIN WAKENED-IN THE morning-that he realized that if anyone was oversexed it was he himself. The three women he had met in the past six weeks were definitely that way, but he was even more so. Funny, he had never thought of himself as being oversexed. He was, not even now, too sure that there was such a thing-he had heard considerably about it, but no one ever bothered to explain in exact terms just what being oversexed entailed.
He glanced at the face of the sleeping woman beside him. She was lying on his left arm, her eyes closed and looking peaceful and relaxed, more so than he had ever seen her.
"Hey, baby," he said softly. "Wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, she blinked, looked at him, kissed him impulsively, closed her eyes, opening them a moment later. She smiled happily. "Oh, Pete...last night...it was so wonderful."
He grinned and kissed her nose. "Glad you liked it. I never knew it could be so great that way."
She startled the hell out of him then. "Pete, darling...please help me kill Harry."
He stiffened. So she was back on that far-out deal. He wet his lips and pulled his arm from beneath her head. "I told you I wouldn't have any part of that," he said slowly. "Why did you have to spoil everything by bringing it up?"
"But we can't ever have a lasting thing as long as he's alive."
Pet sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Your thinking is all screwed up, baby. You can't just kill a man and think everything will be fine afterward."
"But I can't divorce him. The law won't let me."
"Why not?"
"Because I've been in a mental hospital," she said fiercely.
"You aren't in one now. I don't think the law denies you the right to petition for divorce."
"Yes, it does. I'm a kind of ward of the state, sort of. My husband has control over me. They assigned him that right when they released me."
Pete, didn't know if this was right or not. He decided not to say anything more about it, if possible. Changing the subject, he said, "Hadn't you better go back to your place? Your husband might be awake by now. It's eight o'clock in the morning."
"Gee, I hate to go back there alone. Couldn't we go over there, both of us, and talk to him?"
"About what? Last night?"
She surprised him. "Yes. Let's tell him we have a thing going, that we need each other, that we can't live without each other. You know, maybe we could talk him into letting me go free."
Suspicion hit Pete. So this was her plan. Use him to get free of her unwanted husband. "It won't work baby," he said carefully. "He
wouldn't go for that sort of thing-it would only enrage him."
"But we can try, can't we?"
He shook his head and started to crawl out of bed. She grabbed him and tried to hold him. "I have to get up," he explained. "The bathroom is calling."
She released him and giggled. "What a way to put it."
He shrugged and got out of bed. He was stark naked but didn't remember undressing the night before. Maybe he was cracking up a bit himself. He went to the bathroom and returned a few minutes later.
He stared at the bed. She wasn't in it. He looked throughout the apartment, but she had gone. He shrugged, went back to the bathroom and took a shower and shaved.
That afternoon when he returned home from work he unlocked his door and started to enter when he heard a sound behind him and whirled about. Harry March stood in the doorway of his own apartment.
"Mr. Drake," he said coolly. "I'd like to have a talk with you."
"Okay," Pete said, stiffening a bit. "Come in."
March entered the room and looked around. "My wife," he said. "I'll come right to the point. I want you to stop making love to her. It's driving her crazy."
Pete lit a cigarette. "Driving her crazy or you, March? Which is it?"
March scowled, his mean-looking mouth twisting as he replied. "It's driving her crazy. Today she told me she wanted me to help her kill you."
Pete studied the man carefully. "That's odd," he commented.
"You know she isn't right in the head. She was beginning to improve, but this constant ardor on your part is unbalancing her again. I want you to agree to put a stop to it."
"Okay," Pete said, not meaning it but wanting to get rid of the pest. It occurred to him what the man had said previously. "Do you mean to tell me she actually asked you to help kill me?"
March scowled. "I'm not in the habit of lying, Drake."
"Don't go self-righteous on me, mister. I only want to make sure about this."
"She told me you were an evil man, Drake, and you needed to be done away with. Also...she keeps referring to you, at times, as-er-well, by another name."
"She called me 'George' I take it."
March fingered his thin mustache nervously. "Yes, but how did you know?"
"She called me by that name once." Pete paused, then went on. "Why don't you move away, get out of the apartment house. I don't want your wife around me. I can't stop her, .if you want to know the truth. I don't...seek her out...she seeks me out." This wasn't quite the truth, but it was close enough.
"I'm thinking of doing exactly that," March said. "Good-bye, Drake. Keep her out of here, will you? It's for your own good, too, you know. She's liable to stick a knife in your guts one of these times. She's danger, or can be."
"All right, but you had better put her away, hadn't you?"
"That's my business, Drake. Good-bye, again." Pete nodded, took a drag, nodded again. "I'll see you, March."
March stepped into the hall. "Remember, she's a dangerous person."
Pete closed the door. The hell .with this guy. He didn't believe what March had just said. Sandra was far out, but she wasn't-likely to stick a knife in him.
Abruptly a picture came to his mind. He was in the club that first night and watching Helen (he later came to know that was her name) arguing with a tall, thin man. That man, he was certain now, had been Harry March. What was it Helen had said about him the next day-Harry March had wanted to marry her?
"I'll be damned," Pete muttered. "I thought that louse looked familiar right from the start, the moment I first saw him in the apartment building. So that's the connection between the Marches and the others, one of them."
He went to the phone and dialed Helen's number. She answered. "Helen," he said. "That guy you ditched the night we met. Was his name Harry March."
"Who is this?" she asked hesitantly.
"You know who it is. It's Pete, and by the way, where the hell have you been?"
"Hello, Pete. Which question do you want me to answer?"
"Well, was it March?"
"Y-yes. How did you know?"
"Guessed."
"Oh...Pete...how about coming over and seeing me tonight?"
"All right, later."
"Good," she said, and hung up.
He replaced the phone and got the bottle and poured himself a drink. He seemed to be running from one woman to another these days, with the exception of the times when they were all out of town. He liked the idea of having several women on the string, having them willing and available-it made it easier than going out to look for one, the way he had been doing for a long time.
It was eight-thirty when he knocked on Helen's door and she opened it. She wasn't wearing any clothes on the upper part of her body. It really sent him to see her breasts bared so casually.
"Hey, baby," he said. "What's with the topless bit?"
She just smiled but didn't answer. He stepped in and was startled by the appearance of the place. Every-thing was out of place; lamps had been knocked over, chairs overturned and so on. There were cigarette butts in every ash tray.
"Looks like you had a party last night," he observed.
"Yeah. Big nude party, Pete. Too bad you couldn't make it." Her tone of voice sounded a bit odd.
"How could I make it when I didn't know about it?"
"I called you at one-thirty in the morning. Your female companion said you were too busy."
Pete felt his cheeks redden just a trifle. "Oh..." he said. "Yeah." He felt slightly ridiculous.
"Hey, man, you should see your face. You gotta guilty conscience or something?"
"I suppose so. I'm human, you know."
She just laughed.
"What time did your party break up? I see the remains of it and it's night-time."
"Not till noon. Jeanie and I slept till you called. What time is it?"
He told her. "Is Jeanie here?" he asked.
"Yeah. She's still in the sack. She had a rough night...and morning."
"What do you mean?" he asked, knowing what she meant.
"I mean she was laying everybody and his brother all night long. She...had a fight with George and that was her way of taking her spite out on him."
Pete walked to the bedroom door and looked in. The light was on and he saw Jeanie sleeping, her breast uncovered by the sheet that concealed the remainder of her body. He stared at the girl's bosom with curiosity. He couldn't help noticing that the nipples were wet. He touched one of them lightly and his finger came away slightly damp. It dawned on him then. He turned around and faced Helen
"Looks like you've been making a bit of love yourself," he said, a feeling akin to disgust creeping over him.
She gazed back at him steadily, her blue eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Jeanie's breasts are wet with spittle. Yours?"
Helen's eyes became defiant. "What about it, man?" she said roughly.-
"Nothing. I didn't realize you batted from both sides of the plate."
"I like sex," she said. "Any kind."
"Obviously."
"Look," she flared. "Don't give me any pure and noble stuff. I'll bet you've had homosexual desires, too."
"Maybe, but I never carried through on them."
"Nuts," she said. "Are you going to lecture me."
"Hell no. Why should I?"
"Listen, Pete, if you were alone in bed and all hot and bothered and a guy came and offered himself to you, wouldn't you consider it?"
"I don't think so. That leaves me cold. Don't misunderstand me. I'm not putting you down. I'm just surprised. It kind of shocked me. Maybe I'm a bit naive. I just don't think much of homo stuff."
"Well, everyone to his own-likes and dislikes. Anyway, I'm no dyke. I'm...well, bisexual, I guess. I'll take it anyway it's offered, if I happen to feel like it."
"Okay. Let's change the subject."
"Why should we? You're the one who's being righteous about finding spit on her."
"No, I'm not, damn it. Why do you say that?"
She walked away from him, picked up a sweater and slipped her arms into it. She fastened the buttons, all but the top two, and walked back to him. "Hey, man, we're fighting. Let's knock it off, shall we?"
"Sure. I didn't come here for a scrap."
She came close to him, smiling and reaching out her arms. He put his arms about her and she pressed her stomach tightly against his and began to wiggle her hips suggestively. "You like that, man?" she asked. "You want a little of it?"
He didn't get a chance to answer. Jeanie appeared in the doorway in the nude. "Hey," she said, knocking her red hair out of her eyes, "what's going on here?"
"Don't pay any attention to us, Jeanie." Helen said, and continued rubbing her body against Pete's.
"How can I help it when I see this?" Jeanie walked back into the bedroom and reappeared wearing the bottom parts of her pajamas. Her tits hung down provocatively. Pete could hardly take his eyes off them.
"Pete," Helen said, moving away from him. "Are you game? The three of us...you know."
"Yes, Pete, how about a nice daisy-chain deal?" Jeanie asked eagerly. "It's great, just great, if you haven't ever tried it."
He shook his head. "No. Not for me. I'm too self-conscious, maybe, but it doesn't appeal to me."
"That's because you're holding back," Helen said. "Why not try it? Let yourself go."
"No thanks, " Pete said. "I came to see you, not to fall into an orgy."
Jeanie swore and left the room. She slammed the bedroom door and Helen smiled. "You hurt her feelings, man."
"Tough. How about yours?"
She shrugged. "Can't hurt mine. Hell with it." She began to pick up overturned chairs and straighten the place up a bit. "We had a wild time at that party. Too bad you couldn't have been here."
"I had a wild time myself," he said, nettled at her reminding him of it for the second time.
"How was your date?" she asked, as she dumped the contents of two ash trays in a wastebasket.
"She's fine. I mean, she was okay."
"Who was she?"
"Woman named March. Sandra March. Know her?"
Helen caught her breath, then resumed emptying ash trays. "Yeah, heard of her."
"Heard of her, hell," he retorted. "You know her well, don't you?"
"So what if I do?"
"Nothing, but why lie about it?"
She paused in what she was doing and placed her hands on her hips. "Look, man, I'll lie or do anything else that pleases me. How do you like them apples?"
"I don't," he said, and started for the door. He paused and turned around facing her. "Tell me, how are you coming along with your murder plans?" He knew it was a shot in the dark, but he suspected that something drastic was going to happen in regard to the three women he knew. He couldn't have explained this feeling in its entirety, but it was there in his mind.
Her face blanched. "What kind of a crazy remark is that?"
He laughed. "Thought it would get a reaction out of you." He laughed again. "Sandra March wants to kill her husband. Jeanie wants to knock off George. Who are you planning on getting to, Helen?"
"You're crazy," she said angrily.
Once again he laughed and turned the knob of the door. "If I didn't know better I'd think it was me you were after, just for the hell of it."
"How do you know it isn't man?" she retorted crossly.
"Because you have no reason for wanting to get me."
"Look," she exclaimed. "All this talk about killing someone. There's no sense to it."
"I know," he said. "Just wanted to get your reaction."
"Well, you have it. Trouble with you, you've been listening to that March dame so much you're getting screwy, too."
"Maybe so," he said, smiling. "But maybe not, too."
"Look, you came over to have fun and all you're doing is talking up a storm. Why don't we have some fun, if that's what you're looking for."
He moved away from the door and advanced on her. She looked at him strangely, but when he grabbed her by the shoulders and bent her over backward and kissed her she didn't resist. He released her after a moment and she smiled.
"That's better, Pete," she said calmly. "I like you as a lover boy, but when you act the way you've been acting I don't care much for you."
"Hell," he said, annoyed at her remark, "what makes you think I give a damn whether you like me or not?"
She frowned and brushed her long blonde hair out of her face in her characteristic manner. "I'm just a piece to you, is that it?"
"What else, baby? Did you think I was in love with you?"
"No. Thought you liked me, though."
"I do. But that's all. Understand that, baby."
She moved away from him. "Well...I've got to get busy and clean this place up." She walked to the closet door and tried to open it. "I need the sweeper. Come here, Pete. The door is stuck. Help me open it."
He went to the door and yanked on the knob. "Door's locked," he said. "Got a key?"
"It can't be locked. I never lock it."
"Just the same, the door is locked."
She frowned prettily. "But how could it be locked?"
"I don't know. Have you got a key?" he asked patiently.
"Would a skeleton key work?"
"I think so. Get one and I'll try it."
At the precise moment Jeanie appeared in the bedroom doorway. "Hold it right there, you two," she said sharply. "Stay out of the closet."
Pete and Helen glanced at her. Helen seemed to be perplexed, but Pete merely smiled. "Well, here we go again," he remarked. "Seems like every time I come here someone pulls a gun on me."
"That's right, smart guy," Jeanie said, her tone cold. "You can just clear out of here. We're sick of having you around, Helen and I."
Pete looked at Helen. "Is that true?"
Helen was very white. "Y-yes," she said. "You'd better go, Pete."
"All right, ladies. I'll cut out." Pete went to the door, yanked it open angrily, turned and looked at Jeanie. "I'll bet poor old George is in that closet. What's more, I'll bet he's got a slug in him."
The gun Jeanie pointed at him exploded. He threw himself to the floor, the bullet crashing into the woodwork. He slammed the door and took off down the hall.