Chapter 6

I really liked Faye's womanly, desirable body, but since she was being cute about telling what she knew about Vince, I could be even cuter. By this time, I knew she was a hot little piece of ass who never could get enough fucking, practically a nymphomaniac. Once Faye got her cunt worked up to her boiling point, she just had to have whatever cock was with her follow through all the way, just like an addict needs a fix.

The next time we dashed off to the motel for one of our special lunches, I really started to give her the business. My lips and tongue lingered much longer on her tingling nipples than usual. Her curvaceous ass and cunt writhed in joyous torture as I nibbled those tasty tidbits, so to speak.

While softening her up in this manner, I brought up the question, "Faye, baby, I'm curious about something. Just what is this thing between you and Vince?"

"Jealous?" she teased.

"Who wouldn't be?"

"I'm glad," she gloated. "Glad you're jealous. I adore men to be jealous over me. It makes them such eager humpers."

I bit her thigh before relieving her of her perfumed and silken panties. She yelped, but she loved it.

"A man doesn't have to be jealous to go nuts over you, beautiful," I told her. "With a figure and a skin like yours, you've got it made. So be nice now and tell me about Vince."

"No," she protested with a giggle. "You're jealous and I want you jealous. I like to keep you in suspense."

"Are you in love with him?"

"You'll never know, Phil."

I gave up and removed her brassiere, taking those lush knockers of hers into my eager fingers. She was down to her birthday suit now, and I went after her cuntlips with hot hands and far hotter lips.

She writhed under my kisses, growing more and more ready for the big moment. Actually, so was I. But just before shoving my cock into her wildly-wiggling cunt-hole, a pregnant idea gave me pause. I refrained from climbing aboard, from shoving in the stiff prick her agonized gasps told me she had to have.

"Come on!" she pleaded. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! I can't wait another second, Phil! Fuck me!"

"You know, honey, I'm not quite ready," I forced myself to say. "I think I'll wait for just a little while."

"Phil ... please! You know I can't bear to wait when I'm like this! It tears my nerves to pieces. What's wrong? Why won't you shove it up my cunt?"

"I've got something bothering me," I said. "And I can't seem to get in the mood to really fuck when something keeps plaguing me?"

"You're crazy! What kind of question is plaguing ... What could be so important?"

"Vince," I informed her. "Vince Bodine. I keep thinking about you and Vince. I keep thinking that maybe you're in love with him."

"Phil, for goodness sake! Do you have to bring a thing like that up now?"

"I'm afraid so, doll. Why don't you tell me about it so we can go ahead and have ourselves a real good fuck?"

"Oh, you're horrible! You're absolutely horrible to do this to me. Phil, I demand that you shove it in me this very instant!"

I smiled and shook my head. "Sorry, honey. I simply can't get in the mood. It's impossible for me to even think of screwing you until I know all about you and Vince."

As I coaxed and held out, all at the same time, I continued to caress her all over her quivering tits and cunt, driving her further into her already tormented state of sensuous despair. She pleaded, coaxed, demanded relief from my stiff prick, but I refused to ease her pain, not even by one iota. Finally, she capitulated, was suddenly telling me in a rush of words.

"All right, damn you. I'll tell you!"

"Good. Now we're getting somewhere. Why did you meet Vince in that motel the other day? Just for the obvious reason of getting yourself laid?"

"Mr. Hammond sent me."

"Mr. Hammond sent you? Why?"

"He sends me with a sealed envelope once a month with instructions that it must be delivered directly into the hands of Vince Bodine."

"What does the envelope contain?"

"How should I know?" she wailed. "I told you ... it's sealed up tight, with plastic tape. I was curious enough to try to open it one day so I could see what the whole thing was about, but there was no way of doing it without it being noticeable."

"Then what you told me the other day about how you just happened to be driving the T-Bird was an out right lie?" I accused.

"Of course. Mr. Hammond told me to use the car to take the envelope to Vince."

"And after you did your duty as your boss directed, like a proper little secretary, you and Vince decided to have a little improper fuck, now didn't you? Since everything was so damned convenient ... the motel room and all?"

"What if we did?"

I decided to let that pass. "Would you say there was money in the envelopes you have been delivering to Vince?"

"That would be my guess," Faye agreed. "What's in them feels like a thick sheaf of bills."

"Cash?"

"That's what if feels like."

Who knows what cash feels like better than a woman?

"Then Hammond must be paying off Vince for something. Do you have any idea at all what it could be?" I asked.

Faye shook her head violently. "No! Now, please, Phil. Come on. I've told you all I know. Come on and put your pecker in my pussy, let's get the show on the road. I'm hurting!"

"And that's your only connection with Vince?" I insisted. I wanted to get all the information from her that I possibly could while the opportunity was in my grasp ... that is, while I had her cunt squirming with desire for my cock.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she fairly screeched, digging her nails into my shoulders. "I'm dying! Hurry up and fuck me, damn you, before I go nuts!"

I laughed and eased my cock in where it would do the most good, but I quit laughing in a hurry. It took all of my energy to keep up with her cunt's furious rock and roll.

She whimpered and moaned and raked my back until I couldn't tell whether it was blood or perspiration that I felt, but right now, I felt no pain, only the wonderful feel of her hot twat clasping my prick as it rammed in and out of her eager cunt. I gathered and crushed her so close that our rhythmically moving cock and cunt were practically welded, and I gave her all I had. The way she was thrusting and reaching and yowling low in her throat, like a wildcat, I had to.

Like a volcano about to erupt, it didn't take long. As extra damn good as this hump-session was, I would have liked it to go on for at least an hour, but you can't have everything.

Once her tempo increased to little less than the speed of light, I braced my cock as I shot a terrific load of scum right up her cunt....

I was ill-prepared for how quickly Faye cooled off. Where a few minutes before she had quivered with passion she now shook with fury.

"Damn you! You tricked me!" she yelled. "I wasn't supposed to tell anybody, not anybody, about that envelope I deliver once a month to Vince from Mr. Hammond. He made me swear never to tell!"

I tried to soothe her. "Don't worry about it, baby. Your secret is safe with me. And look, honey, speaking of secrets, you haven't by any chance had another crack at Hammond's diary, have you ... the naughty-naughty record he keeps in his private safe?"

"No, but I did remember to do one thing."

"What's that?"

"I found out for sure where he keeps the combination. I was right. He keeps it in his wallet. I saw him take it out once and glance at it. I know it was, because he immedaitely went over to the safe and opened it. It looked as though the numbers were written on the reverse side of a business card."

I frowned, concentrating. "I don't know how the hell I can get it away from him then, if that's where he keeps it."

"Neither do I, unless you hold him up and rob him."

"Yeah. Or get him plastered and have him rolled."

"I doubt if either would work. Robbery is too dangerous, and I don't think he drinks very much, very little in fact. Knockout drops would be even more dangerous than a hold-up."

I nodded glumly. "I agree. Still, I certainly would like to get at that safe and read that from beginning to end. I'm pretty sure it contains what could be valuable information."

"You mean about the woman?" Faye asked. "The one Mr. Hammond and your grandfather fought over?"

"You're so right, doll. That and anything else the diary might have on its more heat-proof pages. I suspect that there's a lot more dirt than meets the eye to the royal battle those two fought over the years. I'd like to get to the bottom of it."

I glanced at my watch and yelped. "Hey, we'd better get cutting! We've been fucking away here longer than our usual stay!"

"Well, it's all your fault!"

We climbed out of the rumpled bed, dashed into the shower and soaped and rinsed each other down, goofing around by feeling each other's most intimate parts like a couple of silly kids. Then we headed for the office, but fast.

Gretchen decided abruptly that our wedding would take place in two weeks.

"I see no need to put it off until fall as we originally planned do you, Phil?" she queried.

"Not in the least," I agreed. "As far as I am concerned, we can squirm back into our swim suits right now and go hunt a preacher to do the honors."

Gretchen laughed, and her cool, slim fingers squeezed my shoulder at the base of my neck. We lay on a blanket a short distance from her house, down the beach. A refreshing night breeze fanned in off the ocean, and there was just enough starlight to allow for my full appreciation of Gretchen's nearly-nude, delectable tits and ass.

A hump-session one short hour ago merely had warmed me up. Gretchen had been reticent at first, but my desire fanned hers into a raging flame. When a woman gets that warm, how can she stand to stay inside a bikini?

"Oh, Phil, you're awful!" she said, at first. "No!"

My answer was a long, drawn-out, increasingly torrid kiss which started her squirming. I lifted my mouth for a few seconds, then lowered it again to her now parted, quivering lips.

"You know you want it," I murmured, and heard her faint acquiescent moan.

Meanwhile, I was working the bikini down past the luscious breasts ... pausing to kiss the hardening, pink nipples ... past the gently curving hips, down the white, quivering thighs.

It took me about two seconds flat to strip off my shorts and I was on her, joining myself to her very ready passion.

I tried to make the hump last as long as I could, but the excitement was too intense. Within moments, our low-pitched wails of ecstasy as I shot my load of hot sperm into her eager cunt mingled with the sound of lapping waves. We lay panting, letting the ocean cool us.

"If we're going to continue fucking like crazy the way we do, it's senseless to postpone our wedding any longer," Gretchen said. "Suppose I should get pregnant?"

"Look," I pointed out. "You don't have to sell me on the idea. I'm for it one hundred percent. Do you think I can spend moments like this, with my cock frigging away inside you and not be in a rush to tie you up for keeps?"

"You're sweet, Phil. You really are."

"And you're beautiful," I said. "Smooth ... white as milk, a gorgeous titian in two places and entirely delicious ... just the way I like my women."

I leaned over her and she reached for my head, mussing my hair.

"Once we're married," she mused, with delightful lust in her tone, "well be fucking each other like this every night."

I growled playfully and bit her arm. "I'll never complain on that score, doll. You've got everything of which a real he-man like me never tires."

"You better be right, lover, because I intend to make you prove it."

I rolled my weight off her, lit a couple of cigarettes, and handed her one. A question darkened my mind.

"Do you think Vince will cause trouble when he hears?" I asked.

"Why do you have to bring him up?"

I could sense her slowly rising, but very evident, tension.

"Vince can go to hell for all I care," she snapped. "I wish he would drop dead."

"Seconded," I agreed dryly, "But I doubt that he will oblige."

She half rose. "What's wrong, Phil? Are you afraid of Vince?"

I looked at her. "Not afraid, doll, just cautious. I wouldn't put anything past that creep. He undoubtedly considered himself in love with you and he wants you all for himself. A man such as he is is capable of anything. He's already made some pretty serious threats, you know."

"Vince is just bluffing," Gretchen scoffed. "He wouldn't try anything really drastic. He knows that my father could and would smash him."

"Perhaps," I nodded, doubtfully. "Let's hope so."

I wanted to ask Gretchen if she had any ideas concerning the sealed envelopes her father sent Vince every single month, but I figured I had better not. I had promised Faye I wouldn't mention the envelopes to anyone. Besides, I was pretty sure Gretchen would be as much in doubt as to its possible contents as I.

So I changed course and quizzed her instead about any rumors she might have heard regarding a falling out that her father and my grandfather once had over a woman.

"It happened a long time ago," I hastened to add, "but I can't help being curious."

"No," Gretchen answered, obviously puzzled. "I never heard of anything like that. A woman? I know there had been a great deal of animosity between your grandfather and my father, but I understood it was through business dealings, only."

I backed off quickly. "Well, it's not important. It's just a rumor and I wondered about it. Probably not a word of truth in it."

An hour later, I helped Gretchen back into her bikini which clung to her curves like a second skin, walked her back to the Hammond mansion and took off.

As I drove away, doubts continued to ferment in my mind like wine working in an earthen crock. Did I want to marry into the Hammond clan, without knowing all the answers? An insistent warning sounded throughout my consciousness. One rotten apple can spoil the whole barrel. One circumstance to my definite disadvantage would screw me without the kiss.

I couldn't forget the warning that Babbs had given me about Gretchen and Vince using her sumptuous Lido Towers apartment as a rendezvous for their red-hot frigging get-togethers.

I still didn't believe Babbs, but dark thoughts in my subconscious mind kept rising up to heckle me. It would be pure hell to bind myself legally to Gretchen, then discover, too late, that Babbs had been telling the truth all along.

Next on my list of immediate problems was Conrad Hammond's diary. I itched to get my hands on it for about thirty minutes. It could contain answers to many of my questions. I had a feeling it did. A man's innermost secrets are scribbled without hesitation in his diary. I would give anything within reason to know some of the secrets penned by my prospective daddy-in-law!

But how to get my mitts on the diary ... that was a tough one, even for me. Mr. Hammond kept the combination to the safe, which in turn held the coveted diary, in his inaccessible wallet. Let's face it; a man and his wallet are practically inseparable. You can get at his wife's cunt far more easily. Unless force is used ... or some element of intrigue.

At that moment, an inspirational idea hit me like a club, only wrapped in velvet.

At the next corner. I turned left and drove parallel with the beach. Suddenly, I had business at the Lido Towers that just couldn't wait.

I can't say that Babbs was exactly overjoyed to have me barge in on her at two o'clock in the morning. She told me she had come in late, had showered, and had just crawled into bed.

"I was almost asleep when you pounded on the door," she complained. "I almost didn't answer your knock."

She plopped on her divan. The blue robe she had wrapped around her fell away, exposing a teasing expanse of leg and of soft white thigh.

I smiled, unable to lift my gaze.

"Nice," I commented, appreciately. "One thing about you, Babbs no matter what time of day or night it is, you always look good enough to eat."

Babbs glared, "Philip Overton, if you've come here at this hour of the morning with fucking or sucking on your mind, I'm damned well tempted to make you put hard cash on the line for your pussy just like anybody else. Why the hell shouldn't I?"

I moved in beside her and patted her knee. I intended to do it as a soothing gesture, but with the combustible Babbs, you never know.

"Oh, come on now," I coaxed. "You wouldn't put a price tag on your cunt for me, would you, beautiful? We're close friends from way back, not just business acquaintances."

Her blue eyes, matching the deep blue of her robe, studied me.

"I have often wished that we had never fucked that first time," she said. "Why?"

"Because you can be such a frigging headache to me on occasion, in case you don't realize it."

I laughed. "Okay, sweetheart, so relax. If you refuse to fuck for me, how about giving me something else?"

"Like what, for instance?"

"I need a favor. A big one."

"Oh? What kind of favor?"

I captured her hand and held it. "You told me that Conrad Hammond visits you once in a while, right?"

She nodded. "So what is that to you?"

"He's got something I need, and I think you can get it for me."

I explained about the diary, about the safe, about the combination to the safe which Hammond kept in his wallet at all times. Babbs began to see the light.

"And you want me to snitch it from him, is that it?"

"That's it," I said bluntly. "You're the only person I know who is qualified to separate Conrad Hammond from his britches. And once you do that, maybe you can find a chance to sneak that combination out of his wallet. It's written on the reverse side of a business card, and it shouldn't be too difficult to locate."

"Why are you so anxious to get your hands on his diary?"

"Personal reasons," I hedged. "You wouldn't be interested. Well, how about it, baby? Will you help an old friend, or won't you?"

Babbs sniffed. "A friend? Sometimes I wonder. I could probably swing it for you right enough, but it would be pretty risky. If he caught me at it, I would lose one of my best customers. Tell me, Phil, dear, what's going to be in this job for little Babbs? I can't afford to take chances like that for nothing."

I kissed her warmly. "All I have to offer is heartfelt appreciation. The Overton fortune, as you probably know, is at an all-time low. I have very little cash, but I'll make it up to you later, somehow. That's a promise and it's one you can count on."

"A girl can't live on promises, Phil."

"Okay, then, do it for kicks," I said.

"Not this chick, lover. This isn't Charity Hall, I have to make a living."

I turned glum. "Then you won't do it?"

"I haven't said I wouldn't, have I?"

"But gathered...."

"I've been thinking, Phil. There is a method whereby you can repay me."

I raised my brows. "And just what is the method?"

It was Babbs' turn to smile.

"How would you like to be a father?" she asked.

"What!"

"Just what I said ... a father!"

"What in the hell are you talking about ... whose father?"

"My son's father, that's whose. You didn't know I had a child, did you, Phil?"

"You've got a kid? Since when? I never heard anything about you having a kid!"

"Well, for you information, darling. I imagine there are quite a few things you don't know."

"I'm beginning to believe it. You know, Babbs, you're not only good to look at, but you're just full of surprises. Have you got just the one child? Or could there maybe be half a dozen others?"

"Don't be cute. Just the one."

"Hell, I didn't even know you had ever been married."

"I haven't."

"Oh." I had to smile. "Then somebody must have gotten damned careless with his cock."

"That's right. And don't "look so damned smug. It could happen to anyone."

I nodded. "Sure, it could, baby. Well, what's this father bit you're suggesting?"

Babbs explained that an aunt and uncle of hers who lived in a town nearby were taking care of the boy for her.

"My aunt and uncle are the only ones who know that my child was born out of wedlock," she said. "We've had to do a lot of lying in order to protect the boy. To do this, we've spread the word around that his father is in Europe most of the time on a government mission for the navy. So far, no one has doubted the story. But now, certain nosey people around the neighborhood are beginning to ask questions, and my aunt thinks it would be a good idea to have some man show up at least once in a while, playing the part of the father, to quell suspicion before it gets out of hand."

I frowned. "So you want me to trot along there with you, pretending to be your husband?"

"Yes. I only want to protect the child."

"How about later, though," I asked. "You can't fool people forever."

Babbs' piquant face looked wistful, even a little sad. "Later will have to take care of itself. Anyway, there's my problem. Well, what do you say, Phil? Do you want to make a deal? I'll get that combination you want. In return, you'll go with me and play the part of my husband."

"How long would we have to visit this offspring of yours?"

"Not long. Just a day, maybe overnight."

I gave the idea a quick flip-over in my mind. I didn't see any reason why I couldn't accommodate Babbs in this little problem of hers.

"Sure, it's a deal," I told her. "How old is the kid?"

"Four."

"What's his name? I had better learn his name and get it down pat so that when we get there, I won't be calling him Joe if his name happens to be Hal."

"You won't have any trouble there," Babbs promised, giving me a sidewise glance. "His name is Phil-the same as yours."

This jolted me. I looked at her quickly. "Phil?"

"How did you decide to pick my name, for Pete's sake?"

She laughed. "It was the first one that came to mind."

Suddenly, I was suspicious, damned suspicious.

"Now look here, Babbs," I said, angrily. "You're not trying to pull a fast one, are you? You're not going to try to pin the blame for this kid of yours on me, are you? If you are, it's not going to work."

She shook her head, violently. "No, never fear."

"He's not ... mine, is he?" I asked hesitantly. "I mean ... it's about four years ago that you and I had that first hump of ours together...."

"No, Phil. You can relax. He's not yours."

I sighed, in profound relief. "Frankly, baby, for a minute there you had me pretty worried. Well, what last name have you given him? I have to know what to call myself."

"Same as yours," Babbs giggled. "Overton. You may as well know the whole truth. I named my little boy Philip Overton. I didn't think you would mind. In fact, I thought you never would have to know. But I wanted him to have a prestige name, and in this state, the Overton name is second to none. You don't really mind too much, do you?"

By this time, I really had paled.

"Gosh, Babbs, I don't know," I protested. "I just don't know what to say about a thing like this. Look, are you certain the kid isn't mine? Why didn't you give him his real father's name?"

"Simple," she said and looked down at her hands. "His real daddy wouldn't have wanted it that way. I'm sorry, Phil; sorry now that I did it. I realize that I had no right, but it's too late to change anything. His birth certificate shows his name as Philip Overton, and that's the way it's going to have to remain. You're not going to be too angry with me are you Phil?"

All I could do was stare, my mouth hanging open. For once in my entire screwball existence, so help me, I couldn't think of one damn thing to say.

Leaving Babbs' apartment not long thereafter, still in a mixed-up state of emotions and feeling plenty stupefied, I took the elevator down, left the building and walked dizzly to my car. When two men stepped out of the shadows and grabbed me, I was caught completely off-guard.

A strong pair of arms entwined about me from behind, slid upward from my armpits, and in less than half a second, I was helpless in a hammerlock of such force that I felt certain my neck would crack. I had sense enough immediately to cease struggling. I thought of yelling, but how the hell do you yell with your head bent forward so excruciatingly far that your nose is mashing against your breastplate?

"Well, now, that was quick and easy enough." It was Vince Bodine's voice and it spoke from close by, right in front of me. "I have to hand it to you, Pete, you really know your stuff. That's the idea, just hold our stupid friend opened up like that so I can take a few practice punches into his gut."

He laughed nastily. "Phil here didn't think I meant business when I told him he would never live to marry Gretchen Hammond, did you, Phil boy? Well, it's too late now. You should have listened."

The way my head was bent, I couldn't see his face. All I could see was his eyes as he took a forward step. Then he swung his fist into my belly and my lungs gushed air and the lights in my brain turned red.

At long last, I was conscious of trying to suck some good old fresh ozone back into my lungs, but it was rough going. I struggled briefly. The guy called Pete merely tightened his hammerlock and I felt my neck vertebrae crackle and pop.

Hanging onto consciousness by a mere thread, I heard Vince say, "You know something Phil-this is what I call a real pleasure. I've been wanting for a long time to beat you to a pulp. You damned Overtons always thought you were so hot, so high and mighty, so much better than anybody else."

He swung again quickly, and the one small bubble of air I had managed to swallow never had a chance to reach my previously-emptied chest cavity. He stepped back and laughed again.

"Hell, he doesn't even fight back, Pete. How about that? He just lets a guy pound him, and he doesn't even try to defend himself! Always knew anybody by the name of Overton was yellow."

The man called Pete grunted. "Come on, let's get this over with before somebody comes along."

"Oh, hell, no hurry!" Vince said. "I'm having fun and I don't want to rush it. I want to take my time beating hell out of this simpleton. I have to teach him a couple of lessons he'll never forget."

"Such as, when I say something I mean it. I told him once to stay away from Gretchen, that she was my personal property, but you know what, Pete? The stupid bastard wouldn't listen. Now he has even managed to con Gretchen into setting a date for a wedding."

Vince snorted and backhanded me across the face.

"As if he thinks he'll live to be a bridegroom. For your information, Phil old buddy, instead of getting married in three weeks, you're going to get buried in six feet of sand."

"Say, Vince," I heard Pete growl from a vast distance, "I can't hold this guy up any more. He's passing out!"

Pete was indeed right. They say that a man's life flashes before him in moments of great crisis. My life really must have been misspent. The only scene that flashed before me was all the broads I had ever fucked, posing in their sexiest positions.

There was Babbs in all her blonde, naked appeal, her sensuous lips forming a circular "O", ready for her specialty-a wonderful blow-job.

Then came Gretchen, lying nude on the beach, her svelte thighs enticingly apart, showing her gorgeous cunt.

She was followed by curvy Faye, her sturdy, naked asscheeks leaping on my cock with all her weight.

And then, the lights went out!