Chapter 3

Gretchen's svelte body, her curved up-tilted breasts, her lithe legs and desirable asscheeks, kept dancing in front of me as I drove. I headed our worn jalopy for the Conrad P. Hammond imposing mansion, seeing Gretchen's red hair, hazel eyes and wide, inviting mouth, beckoning me through the windshield. She was a very desirable broad even without all that moola.

Now, as I neared the Hammond house, I was overcome by doubt. Maybe I was too pushy in coming directly to this mansion in my old rattletrap and some too-fancy clothes. If the first impression the tempera mental Conrad P. got rubbed him the wrong way, my goose, to say nothing of my aching cock and balls, would be cooked.

Why, I wondered, disconsolately, hadn't I considered this gruesome possibility before this late date. I never should have agreed to go to her house tonight. I should have asked her to meet me somewhere. But it was to late, I realized glumly, as I drove the family heap in the general direction of the Hammond beach mansion.

If Conrad Hammond was determined to kick me out of his house, that would be his privilege. I would make a try, regardless. He couldn't do any more than shoot me.

Now that I was getting my first break with Gretchen after so much fruitless endeavor in the past weeks, I was not going to pass up this first golden opportunity to be with her.

I wondered what had caused her to change her mird so abruptly and to give me a date. The whole thing was clouded in mystery. One minute I had been getting exactly nowhere, and the next, she had practically flung her arms and maybe her twat as well, open to me. I couldn't help asking myself why.

What had come about in the meantime? Unable to find an answer, I drove on. This was no time to stew over whys and wherefores, I reminded myself happily. It was a time to drool and to dream of holding the lovely Gretchen in my arms, of making mad love to her, of my cock thrusting into her glorious cunt!

The Hammond mansion had been constructed on a high point of sand flanking the ocean. It was one of the most garish places I had ever seen. It actually was too much of a good thing, like an over-painted whore with an overload of jewelry glittering wherever there was room. But you had to admit the place was imposing. It occupied a couple of acres of prime beachfront, complete with a private pier, alongside of which majestically floated the million-dollar Hammond yacht.

Not knowing what to expect, I parked in the drive and headed for the entrance. I was hoping that Gretchen hadn't mentioned my name to her father, in which event I might last a good ten minutes under his roof. One thing was certain, as far as I was concerned; if she had told him to expect an Overton, there was going to be hell to pay. I hoped it wouldn't prove too embarrassing for all concerned, especially for me.

Imagine my utter surprise then, when it was Conrad Hammond who met me at the door and invited me in.

"You must be Philip Overton," he beamed, poking out a stubby hand. "Come in, son, come in! Gretchen will be right with us."

Mr. Hammond's handshake was a tight, warm squeeze. He was a medium height, stocky man, with thinning grey hair and a ruddy complexion.

"How does a drink sound while we're waiting for Gretchen to come down?" he suggested, then laughed and laid his hand on my shoulder in comradely fashion.

"Women, you know!" he winked. "They seem to feel it a special privilege never to be quite ready."

I laughed in an effort to appear casual.

"I would enjoy a drink with you very much, Mr. Hammond," I said.

He took my arm, steered me to the patio overlooking the Atlantic. I saw a portable bar complete with all accessories.

"Have a seat, Philip, have a seat. Scotch and soda suit you?"

"That will be fine."

I sat and watched Conrad Hammond curiously as he went about the business of concocting the drinks. He wore bright yellow slacks and a checked sport shirt. I could not comfortably trust and accept his warm, friendly attitude.

I had expected him to be ready to shoot me on sight when he learned who I was. Instead, he was bending over backwards to treat me with princely attention. I couldn't fathom it. I failed to grasp it at all. He walked over and handed me my drink, then he lowered his slightly bulky body into an adjacent deck lounge.

"Overton...."he said as though tasting the word and finding it mellow, like good wine. "A fine, time-honored, aristocratic name."

"Thank you, sir. I am rather proud to be an Overton, I must admit."

"I should think so!" Conrad Hammond exulted. "You have every right to be proud. Why, the Overton family pioneered and developed this section of Long Island. The entire community owes to the Overton name a debt of undying gratitude. If it hadn't been for the original Overtons and their genius for values, you and I might not be sitting here this very minute, do you realize that, young man? Great people they were. Mighty fine family. What this country needs is more like them."

Just as I was beginning to wonder if he planned to get downright sickening in his admiration of the Overton name, Gretchen made her appearnace.

"Hello there!" she sang out sweetly. "I see you two have met."

"Yes, Phil and I are getting along famously," her father said as we rose. "Phil was just telling me about his family, but of course, I knew the Overtons before Phil did ... before he was even born."

Conrad Hammond cackled at his own joke. Gretchen beamed at me and I smiled politely.

"You look ravishing, Gretchen," I complimented her.

"Doesn't she now," her father added. "Well, I suppose you youngsters want to be running along."

He turned and grasped my hand in a shake undoubtedly meant to impress me with his good fellowship. "Now young man, I want to see more of you around this house. Do come back, won't you? I'll be sadly disappointed if you don't."

"It'll be a pleasure, Mr. Hammond. Thank you for inviting me."

As Gretchen and I drove away, I still was in a state of confusion. This thing had me going. What was up? Gretchen and I spent the better part of the evening dancing at the Lido Beach Club. I found her to be as adorable as she looked, and my hard-on was aching for her pussy like a throbbing thumb. Holding that stately body close, was a wonderful experience. Her skin was cool and fragrant. Her breath was warm and sweet. It was such a simple thing to fall immediately and madly in love with her. But I had sense enough to refrain from making any serious passes this early in the game. I wanted to screw her so badly that I could feel desire eating away like busy ants at the marrow of my bones. I am positive Gretchen knew this, for my hot want was bound to be evident in my eyes.

Yet, in queenly elegance, she apparently accepted my avid horny, state as her just due. After that first date, Gretchen and I were together almost constantly. Instead of this displeasing her father as I orginally had assumed it would, he seemed happy about the whole thing.

It was my grandfather who finally clued me in on the mystery surrounding my easy acceptance into the Hammond home and the Hammond heart.

"If you had sense enough to come in out of the rain, my boy, you would know without any strain on your mentality why that low-brow, Conrad Hammond, is so pleased to welcome you into his castle." Granddaddy Cass told me. "Think again, boy, think hard. It doesn't take a genius to see through it. Are you actually too stupid to realize his motive?"

"If that's being stupid, I plead guilty," I said, somewhat stiffly. "I'm afraid I don't see any motive, other than friendliness on his part. From all the accounts I have heard of the long feud Mr. Hammond has had with our family, especially with you, he should hate me. So you tell me why, Granddaddy. Why is he treating me like the prodigal son, just coming up the road?"

Granddaddy Cassius gulped a huge slug of bourbon straight from the bottle, burped, and laughed shortly.

"You've got something he wants, Phil. Can't you see that?"

I raised my brow so. "I have something Mr. Hammond wants? Don't be absurd! Mr. Hammond has everything-I have nothing. I can see you've been drinking too much again. It's beginning to affect your mind. What do I possibly have to offer Mr. Hammond?"

My grandfather snorted. "He wants your cock and your blood, stupid. Any fool can see that."

I stared at Granddaddy Cass, my mouth falling open. "My-blood?"

"That's right. Your blood ... the one commodity that money can't buy. The Overton blood ... it's our last remaining tangible, you young fool, the only last priceless asset which Conrad Hammond hasn't been able to steal. Conrad Hammond was born a guttersnipe, as I've told you before. But he's an ambitious guttersnipe, and an envious guttersnipe. And he's old enough to know by now that even if he made all the money in the world, buying the blood of aristocrats to flow through his own veins is impossible. Yet he wants this desperately."

"It's the one blight in his life he can't overcome. And what does this mean? It means his only recourse is to have it transfused into his guttersnipe family tree through marriage ... by a merger of his offspring with an Overton offspring. It's the only way left open to him if he is to accomplish his purpose. So, dear boy, do you see now why Conrad Hammond glows on you with such warm and touching affection? His hope is to marry his daughter off to you."

I stared at me erstwhile illustrious grandsire for a long moment, trying to make up my mind if his reasoning could possibly be correct. It seemed incredible. Yet what other reason could Mr. Hammond possibly have. Eventually, I had to conclude that Granddaddy must be right in his logic, drunkenly arrived at or not.

The time came, of course, for me to attempt my desperate best to claim Gretchen's senses-reeling body. I mean, I wanted to fuck her something awful. Up to now, I'd had to content myself with no more than a few lukewarm kisses, small insignificant appetizers. And I must admit, these tidbits of affection which she allowed were incongruous to my overwrought and hot-blooded pecker.

I made my play late one evening on her patio. It was a lovely night. There was a full moon. A refreshing breeze drifted in from the ocean.

Next to me on the divan, with the moonlight doing wonders for her skin, Gretchen was immediately more tempting, more desirable than I had ever seen her. I felt I would go absolutely nuts if I didn't get my prick in her soon.

She was wearing one of those two-piece-skirt and bandanna halter-affairs. The garments were dark blue, and when you glanced at her you got a stunning impression of white legs, a provocative white midriff, followed by devastatingly beautiful shoulders, arms, throat and face.

With a number of Scotch and sodas warming my naturally torrid Overton cock, I gathered her into my arms and began kissing her with avid intensity.

Her exquisite skin, cool and faintly perfumed, awoke the mad-hump urge. Before she had time to catch her breath, I had covered every exposed delicious inch of her adorable body with searing kisses.

I wasn't sure what her reaction might be, and frankly, at the moment, I couldn't have stopped of my own accord, regardless. At least she wasn't making an effort to stop me. This was success of sorts. I continued my hungry kissing for quite a happy while.

Naturally, I kept hoping that she would warm to the moment's madness and get nicely worked up and horny herself. She didn't. She seemed merely to be holding her own emotions in abeyance, allowing me to continue working my abused cock into a state of frantic want and hard-on.

Subconsciously, I received the impression that she was finding my horny hunger more fascinating than me touching her would be, a phenomenon of sex-more curiosity rousing than it was stimulating. It was as though her mind stood aloof, witnessing with catlike amusement, my frenzied cock and balls.

She displayed no outward show of sensous response, whatsoever. After a while, it began to grow embarrassing. It had always been my thought that, if a girl is willing to let you practically devour her from top to bottom, she is supposed to be deriving some kind of bang from the experience.

Eventually my lovemaking reached a point of utter frustration, and I found myself in an acute dilemma. I was too impassioned to bring myself to a halt, and my pride was too sorely wounded to allow me to keep making a fool of myself.

Thus I reached a determination. I would shake this delectable creature to the roots of her beautiful being, if it killed me.

With a sudden display of caveman brutishness, I tore the bandanna from her breasts and fell upon her tender, pointed tits with a fury akin to to cannibalism.

At this crucial point, she alerted and balked. She placed cool fingers against my face and pushed, separating my hot mouth from her left nipple with a noticeable "pop" sound.

Utterly dismayed, I implored in a tone of whipped-dog complaint, "Don't you love me, Gretchen?"

"Not when you act this way, Phil," she answered. "Now sit up and get hold of yourself. You are being adolescent, and it does not become you. We're adults and shouldn't allow ourselves to succumb so easily to horrid, animal lust."

"But I love you, Gretchen. I love you and I want to fuck you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Sex before marriage, Phil, is out of the question as far as I'm concerned. Oh, I know what you're going to say ... that in these modern times everybody goes in for some screwing, married or not. But I have higher standards, Phil, so you may as well reconcile yourself to them right now."

Then and there I altered my course of action and pleaded with Gretchen to marry me right away. That's how horny I was for her cunt! She grew very quiet, studying my face in the moonlight, while I held my breath awaiting her reply, distractedly aware, all the while, of those still bared and proudly tilted knockers, so near and yet so far from my chattering teeth.

It was a tense moment in my life. For the first time I suddenly realized the importance of it all. If she said "yes", I would have the world in the palm of my hand. For me Gretchen represented the epitome of wealth, of beauty and of position. What higher prizes can a man seek in his short period of residence on this good earth? And, in addition she looked like a swell lay!

Finally she said, "All right, Phil. I'll marry you. I think it will make father very happy."

I received this good news with such feeling of enthusiasm that I immediately attempted to force my way past her fingers to her breasts, assuming that now I had surely earned permission to enjoy them to the fullest.

But she fought me off. "No! No, Phil, no! Are you going to spoil our newfound happiness already? Before it has even taken root? Stop it, stop it, or I'll change my mind. You'll have to learn to control yourself."

So, I still got nowhere, and eventually I gave up the struggle to even kiss her titties. The idea came to me that patience on my part would, in time, bear the fruit of its own reward. I'd be frigging away in her luscious pussy sooner or later ... Meantime, I would have to wear the muzzle of prudence, saving my bites for later.

It was surprising how elated her father was the next day when he learned of our engagement. He threw several parties in quick celebration of the happy turn of events, then topped it off by installing me as a VIP to head up the rental division of his vast real estate-operation. The fact that I had no experience along this line was cast aside as a matter of no consequence.

"Those under you," my future father-in-law pointed out breezily, "will take care of the details. And you'll learn our procedures in time. Don't worry about it. I'll leave instructions for you to be taught what you don't know."

Needless to say, my dear old Granddaddy Cassius was highly elated, also.

"By damn, this is what I've been hoping for!" he cried as an evil glint sprang into his red-----rimmed drunken eyes. "I knew you'd come through for us, boy, yes sir, I just knew you'd come through like a true Overton."

He took a healthy swig of bourbon and rubbed his hands together, excitedly.

"Once you learn the ins and outs of Conrad Hammond's business, Phil, well be sitting in the driver's seat," he exulted. "And when the right time comes, we call all the turns. Phfl boy, I can hardly wait. I want you to get in there and learn everything you can about the Hammond operation. Learn the weak points and the strong points. Don't overlook anything. And when the time is right, well leap."

He threw back his head and cackled shrilly. "Won't Conrad Hammond be the surprised one when he wakes up to the truth! Will his face be red! And I want to be right there to witness the kill. Yes sir, before he knows it, Hammond will be right back in the gutter where he came from, and the Overtons will be sitting on top of the heap once more."

I wasn't quite certain how I felt regarding my Grandfather's nefarious plans which he was determined I should go along with. But I decided not to argue with him.

I would just take things as they came. Either way, as I saw it, I would come out on top. On top of the luscious Gretchen, fucking away for dear old glory....

All of which brings us back to the present, where Gretchen and I are sitting on the beach and she has just promised me that, if I wouldn't be angry at her for her tardiness, she would, this evening, reward me with something "very special."

I took this to mean she intended letting her hair down once and for all and we would fuck it up a bit ... oh, happy thought! And so it was with such drooly dreams of sweet pussy in my mind that I flung away my mad and became the personality kid once more.

Phil, boy, I kept telling myself, while stealing furtive glances at Gretchen's classic torso, at her smooth ivory skin, you're going to really give that dick of yours a treat tonight. You're going to have yourself a friggin' ball.

Gretchen wanted to go swimming, so we went swimming. We laughed and played and she was adorable. I never had seen her quite so temptingly beautiful, so excitingly warm. My senses reeled.

"Teach me to float, darling," she begged.

When I held my hands lightly under her supine body, with my chin practically resting on her pussy, I thought I would bust a gut just from pure wanting to shove my cock into her.

I bit her lightly just above the knee, but she immediately pushed me away, laughing. "Not here, silly!" she chided. "Too many people can see. Can't you wait for tonight?"

We came back to shore and noticed for the first time, a new presence. He was a tall, broad, bronze-skinned man with curly, jet-black hair. He watched our approach with a sardonic grin on his angular face and in his startling gray eyes.

Vince was a gambler by profession. Even back in high school, a deck of cards or a pair of dice was part of his regular equipment. He had earned his spending money winning our nickles, our dimes, and our quarters. He always had been a cunning kid, that was sure. Not what you would call a boy of unblemished character.

Then it came to me, suddenly, that he must be here on the beach on this particular day, for no worthy purpose. Looking back, I remembered that he always had been in love with Gretchen. He had been after her ever since we all were kids. But his trouble had been Papa Hammond.

Gretchen's father flatly refused to allow Vince to come messing around his precious daughter. Old man Hammond's plans for Gretchen didn't include such low life friends as Vince Bodine who had been reared on the proverbial wrong side of the tracks.

It had been ironic, back then. After all, Conrad Hammond himself before he became wealthy was, as Granddaddy Cass so often put it, a guttersnipe from the same wrong side of the tracks.

What worried me now was Vince happening to show up at this particular time. Further cause for worry was Gretchen's strange reaction at the sight of him.

I wondered if there was more behind this curious state of affairs than met the eye. Was it possible, that they had been seeing each other now and again, on the sly, behind her father's back? When they had been kids in high school they had been known to slip off and meet secretly.

Could it be possible, I asked myself, that Gretchen still was infatuated with the guy? But this was absurd. If she were, she certainly wouldn't be planning on marrying me.

On the other hand, why was she so obviously shaken? Just because he was sitting there on the sand, smirking at us? Something was amiss; of that I was sure.

Vince kept staring. I asked Gretchen what was with the guy. She flushed.

"Oh, you know how Vince is-he's always pestering me. I've never been able to get him to leave me alone."

"You were crazy about him once, weren't you?"

"That was a long time ago," she snapped. "I was too young and ignorant to know better."

"Have you dated him lately?" I could not help asking.

She gave me a disdainful glance. "Of course not. I forgot him years ago."

"Then why are you so nervous? He still must have some pronounced effect on you."

"Oh, please, Phil. Shut up and just drop the subject, will you? I'm not the least bit concerned about Vince Bodine. Or about anybody else. It's just that I don't appreciate having my body ogled. It upsets me. Come on, let's leave. I've had enough of both beach and sun for one day."

But before we could depart, Vince Bodine rose and came toward us.

"I understand congratulations are in order," he said, with a distinct sneer in his tone.

"That's right," I said. "Gretchen and I are engaged."

Vince looked from one to the other of us. He chuckled, low in his throat. '

"Phil, you lucky guy you," he said. "You have won the prize package of them all."

Gretchen flushed a deeper pink and turned to walk stiffly away.

"Are you coming, Phil, or aren't you?" she asked icily.

Vince laughed. "Say, your beautiful bride-to-be isn't very friendly today. What's the trouble? I thought engaged girls were supposed to be happy."

"She was, Vince ... until you showed up. I wonder why." I stared at him.

He looked away, still smiling. Then he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, a kind of sinister, threatening hiss. "You'll learn, buddy boy. You'll wake up one of these days and know the truth. Let's hope it's not too late, shall we?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Vince? I don't like your insinuations or your tone."

All I got from Vince Bodine was a broad wink and a snorting laugh, and nothing more. He turned and walked away, in the opposite direction.

I stared after him, then trotted to catch up with Gretchen. I didn't know what to think, walking beside her. There was a mystery in the air. Something definitely was between these two, whether Gretchen wanted to admit it or not. My natural instinct told me so.

But I knew I would get exactly nowhere quizzing Gretchen. Not right this minute, anyway. I would have to bide my time and hope the enigma would eventually come to light in its own way.

Gretchen, apparently, was going to fulfill her promise. The one made this afternoon on the beach. Her father wasn't home tonight, and we had the entire Hammond beach mansion to ourselves. We had several, long, cool ones and we danced. She clung to me like a leech as we moved to the music of somewhat erotic sounding records which she had previously selected for the hi-fi. I knew she must be feeling my hard-on.

She wore a sarong affair from which her white legs flashed, and her sexy perfume was out of this world. Finally, we were on the patio and the mood was just right. The divan welcomed us as she pulled me down beside her.

"Gretchen...." I breathed. "Gretchen ... you're fantastically lovely."

Her delicate fingers caressed my face, my eyes, my ears.

"Do you love me so much, Phil? Do you really?"

"I adore you," I said hoarsely. "Gretchen, honest to goodness, I worship you."

This strange turnabout in her sexual attitude sent my blood boiling.

"Prove it," she said simply, reclining full length. She lifted her knees, causing the sarong to fall from her legs. In the moonlight, her white thighs were so earth-shakingly beautiful it was difficult to breathe.

She wasn't going to have to ask me twice. My kisses swept her. At first she trembled, then she moaned.

"Fuck me," she said. " ... Fuck me for all you are worth."

My frantic fingers maneuvered her out of the sarong and the halter. Then she watched, curiously, as I flung away my own clothes.

I moved down on her exposed, golden-bushed pussy, then hesitated.

"Should I use something?" I remembered to ask.

Just this bit of waiting was driving me crazy. I didn't want to use anything while we were having our first fuck, yet I didn't want to take the chance of making her pregnant, either.

Gretchen shook her head. Her soft hands reached for me. "What's the need?" she said softly. "Well be married soon anyway, and it wouldn't make any difference."

My horny excitement knew no bounds. I gathered her supine body into my arms. She was lush, warm. Her mouth opened to mine. Slowly at first, then deliriously, my tongue crept through and was caressed by hers. She shuddered and held me tightly. Her flesh moved against the rigid hard-on of my cock. A sense of impending explosion pounded in my brain.

Then I found her cuntlips sinking into the sweet warm depths of her vagina. She caught her breath as our lips clung. Her nails commended to dig along my arms and my back. Her long legs trembled, her ass began to undulate and to grind. I could hardly contain myself as I thrust my prick into her cunt up to the hilt.

Gretchen was glorious to fuck. And what a surprising female she was! I had wondered if she were capable of enjoying getting fucked. I had suspected that she might be one of those frigid cunts you hear about.

Now I knew she was nothing like that, that she was a warm, loving, fiery, normally erotic girl, whose beauty was a crown to sensuous screwing.

Her fervor of passion mounted as I thrust my cock in and out of her hot, wet cunt. Her teeth commenced to bite, to nibble excitedly. The mounds of her breasts became resilient, firm and hot beneath my chest. Her perfumed breath was sweetly wild and gasping.

She became adorably frantic with hump-lust. Now little squeals of ecstasy emitted from her throat, her nails dug deeper. She tensed, rushed into successive orgasm, twice, one immediately following the other. I was amazed at this wanton display. Even so, she didn't relax for one instant, but kept working her cunt up and down my stiff dong her mouth begging hotly under mine for more, more, more.

Hell, I thought happily, this girl is a regular glutton for cock. She thrives on it.

The crescendo of our passion continued in this state of mad ecstasy, until, at last, I could no longer fight that cloud of heady mist sweeping across my brain.

Our bodies were moving perfect, rapid rhythm. Suddenly I caught my breath and shot spurts of hot scum right into her cunt, in a bursting storm of exquisite fury.

Afterwards, we talked. I asked her again about Vince Bodine.

"Now, Phil, don't tell me you're going to start out being jealous of him. I told you, he means absolutely nothing to me. I hate him."

"But you'll have to admit you were pretty hot for him at one time," I insisted.

"Not anymore," she said, quickly. I knew she wanted to avoid the subject.

"Well, on the beach today I got the impression he felt that he had some kind of claim on you."

"I can't help what he claims," she snapped. "Can I help it if he still carries a torch for me?"

"Doesn't he ever phone you? Or try to come by to see you?"

She was silent for a moment, then she nodded. "Yes, he pesters me, but I always refuse," she admitted.

"I've told him a thousand times to leave me alone. He's nothing but a cheap gambler and I do not want anything to do with him."

I sensed that she wasn't telling the whole truth, but the subject seemed so upsetting to her, I decided to drop it. I wondered why I was troubling myself about what wouldn't matter. If I had any sense, I would be leaving well enough alone.

Gretchen said abruptly, "I feel crazy tonight-let's go swimming."

I laughed and nipped at her shoulder. "Why not?"

We left the patio and rushed, hand in hand, down the sandy slope to the water. We plunged in and goofed around for a while. I caught her to me and her body felt like a cool, slick, squirming eel. I kissed her laughing mouth, and the desire to fuck her again surged back in a torrent of eager, racing blood.

I dragged her back to the water's edge, pulled her down and shoved my cock into that lovely, warm moist cunt of hers again, while the small waves rose high enough to tickle along our sides to our hips.

"Oh, your prick's delicious, Phil," she squealed.

"You're delicious to fuck!"

The smooth, wet packed sand was firm under her asscheeks. There was no give at all. It was all such an exciting hump and so right.

"Oh...." she gasped. " ... Oh! Oh! Oh!...."

I covered her salty lips with my own. My thrusting cock and her cunt writhed in ecstasy, the wavelets lapping at our torsos in tantalizing fashion. We fucked like mad until we reached that spasmodic zenith of delirium that you suddenly find tearing you to pieces both mentally and physically, and then we both came together as I shot my second load into her twat, just as a larger wave rolled over us a splash of joyous, shocking glory.

We returned to the house. I dressed and left. It was three in the morning.

I hadn't driven two blocks when I noticed the headlights of the car right behind me. The idea came I was being followed. My first thought was of Vince Bodine. He had been a young tough back in school, and there was no reason to assume he had changed. When he was a kid, he had used his fists to have his way. Now he probably had graduated to more lethal weapons.

Of course I may have been allowing my imagination to run away with me-it might not be Vince behind me. Nevertheless, the sensation of danger persisted. I speeded the car up as a test. The car following me did the same. I was forced to the ultimate conclusion that Vince Bodine or somebody certainly was on my tail.

I wondered what I should do. That shouldn't be too difficult to figure, I decided. Simply stop and find out what was what.

I drove until I reached a streetlight, applied the brakes, halted. I waited. The other car eased around and pulled beside me.

It was Vince, and in the glow from his dash, the evil expression on his face was distinct.

"Something on your mind, Vince?" I threw across to him.

"Yeah, Phil. You-you and Gretchen."

"What about Gretchen and me?"

"She belongs to me, Phil. No other man is gonna fuck her or marry her. I thought it was about time to let you know, before you get yourself in real trouble."

"I don't follow you, Vince. Are you threatening me?"

"That's right, buddy-boy. I sure am. Take it for what it's worth. If you don't you're liable to wake up one morning, dead. Now I ask you a simple question: have you got my message?"

"You've made yourself clear enough," I admitted.

Vince Bodine kept glaring at me with a big-toothed grin; his slick, pencil mustache and cold, gray eyes made me feel real jumpy. His smile was anything but warm, instead it intensified the cold, sinister menace he projected. I wondered how long he had been following me.

Could he possibly have seen us fucking away on the patio? Spotted our bodies writhing in the abandoned ecstasy of our naked embraces on the divan? Or did he see our gleaming bodies as we screwed on the beach? Gretchen and I had frigged away like crazy, like a couple of South Sea Islanders, secure in our feeling of privacy. Now I had to face the possibility that the jealous Vince had played the role of Peeping Tom at my first hump interlude with Gretchen.

I realized I'd have to watch out for him from now on. Gretchen and I would have to be careful when and where and how we screwed. Vince Bodine was a dirty fighter from way back.