Chapter 7
The bonfire blazed at the most secluded area of the beach and Darcy Williams stood with her back to it, thinking how much it seemed that she was in Hell-that she was there facing the Devil Cats for judgment.
"Turn around again, baby," one of the Cats yelled out.
Obediently, Darcy turned in a circle, displaying her body for all to view. She had selected a light summer dress for her initiation. It had been a good choice but a garment of short duration, for the first command that she obeyed was to disrobe. She had done so, down to nothing but bikini panties and bra. And now the Cats viewed her in this skimpy attire, watching how the tongues of fire lashed at her and mixed with her auburn hair in a way that made her seem a part of the fire itself, a kind of fire-born being who had been created by flames.
"Again, turn around again, you goddamn little recruit," one of the girl Cats ordered. "And this time drop that bra and let us see what you've really got."
A series of cheers issued from the other Cats.
Darcy faced straight ahead. She reached both arms behind her, unhooked the bra, then let it float to the sandy beach. Her breasts trembled. She was very aware of it, and she wondered if it came from the fear that she felt at the pit of her stomach or if it was only a result of the night's cool breeze. Her nipples elongated. They turned hard and cracked and became more red than brown.
Slowly, as sensually as she could make herself appear, she turned in a circle again. Through the reddish-black wall that was created between her and those who watched her, Darcy could see the leering, rather evil faces of the Devil Cats. She did not see them as individuals but rather as a group-a group invested with the responsibility of judgment. As her eyes passed over them while she turned, then circled again and again, Darcy considered how quickly she had given up all feeling of competition. It amazed her that now she did not think of besting Terry and Dottie, who had already proved their value to the Devil Cats. She no longer wanted to defeat them. She didn't even care whether or not she was found acceptable by the motorcycle group. She was by the fire, suffering her initiation for one purpose alone-to make the opportunity to be with Zipper Hardy, to meet him, be with him and determine why it was she so longed for him.
When her back was to the Cats and she faced the fire, Darcy wondered why all the other desires were gone, why so no longer welcomed a combat for supremacy as a Devil Cat recruit. She could not find the answer, but she guessed that it had something to do with her night with Kenneth Masters, Bruno, Myra and the black, snarling whips.
"All right, recruit, drop those panties," a voice, stern in quality, called from the group.
Darcy felt a jam at her chest. Unmistakably, the voice belonged to Zipper Hardy. She felt excited. She had even feared that he might not be present for the initiation. Rumors were that he was discontented as leader of the Cats, that he wanted out and would happily bequeath his responsibilities to Ham. But Zipper's voice reassured her.
"I said to get out of those goddamn things," Zipper hollered out again.
Darcy bent. Her breasts felt heavy and filled as she leaned over and pushed her panties from her waist to her thighs, then to her knees, and finally to her ankles.
Cheers rose high as she straightened and faced forward again. Obviously, all of her body, naked and bathed in fire, excited the audience to a high degree. Darcy could not help feeling rather pleased about it, but the surge for competition and even attainment was long gone from her heart.
"Turn, recruit, turn around again," Zipper
Hardy instructed from some back row of Devil Cats.
Darcy added a little swing to her hips this time she circled. And as she moved she felt the flames' of the bonfire leap at her buttocks and thighs, heat her and mix with the natural heat that coursed through her body. And she felt her breasts grow even heavier, almost sag from weight, and she realized that this, too, was a new experience for her. And for a moment she wondered why she bothered with it at all. She already had seen all the perversion she cared to see. She had already committed her body to indignities that were sufficient for any single lifetime. Yet she turned, undulated her body in presentation, allowed her auburn hair to shake wildly at her shoulders as she stood more erect for a better showing of all her body. Why? she asked herself, why? She had her answer. The red-bearded Zipper Hardy-he was the cause. She was committed to some final resolution of the initiation and her intrigue for the boy.
"All right, recruit," Zipper said in a stern voice. "Stand still and face the Devil Cats."
Darcy obeyed. Her heartbeat quickened.
"Now, what are your qualifications for membership in the Cats?" Zip asked.
"Many," she replied.
There was laughter; then Zipper said, "None I see are enough. Come on-what are your qualifications?"
Darcy's mind raced. She had not expected a grilling. It seemed inconceivable that the Devil Cats could really be interested in qualifications, any, that is, except those of flesh and lust.
"Talk," another voice shouted. Darcy thought it was the big Negro, Ham.
"Well, I can-. "
Her voice halted. Her mind raced anew. What was it that she could say that might in some way catch Zipper Hardy's interest? What?
"Talk, goddamn it," Zipper hollered out again.
"Well, I have some important news for the Devil Cats." Darcy suddenly stated, feeling inspiration and importance.
"Oh, goodie, she's a regular little commentator," a girl's voice giggled.
The Devil Cats roared.
"Hell, she ain't no commentator," another voice declared. "She's a squealer."
The Cats thought this was very funny too.
"All right, we'll listen," Zip said, raising his voice above the dying snickers of the crowd. "What's the information you have for the Devil Cats?"
"There's going to be a rumble-you're going to be run out of town," she answered quickly.
The laughter that burst from the crowd like a rupturing balloon frightened Darcy. It was so intense; it laughed so much at her statement, that she feared its consequences.
When it quieted, Zipper Hardy said, "Well, we always need a little laugh. So, you are a pretty good comic."
"I'm not," Darcy complained, feeling angry. "What I just said is the truth."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah-we know," a voice joked.
"Sure, we're scared as all hell," another said.
"Chicken-you don't know us. Why the hell do you think the fuzz even leave us alone," someone else told her.
"Yeah, look here," Zipper continued. "It's all right that you try to amuse us a little at this initiation, but, baby, we can't stand for somebody to make out like we're stupid or something."
"I'm telling you the truth," she protested, breathing deeply, causing her breasts to thrust outward, their nipple-tips waving as if in salutation to all those in front of her.
"Okay, we'll finish the joke," Zipper said. "Just how, please tell us, are we-the Devil Cats-going to be run out of town?"
"By another gang," Darcy said simply.
There was a moment's silence. Then there was a mumble of many voices conversing. Darcy listened to it and felt satisfaction for all that she had said. Surely, she reasoned, Zipper would feel gratitude for the information she had brought him.
"What gang?" Zipper suddenly asked. "A gang right here in Sanford," she explained. "There ain't no gangs in Sanford-none but us," Darcy heard Ham say.
"Yeah, 'course there ain't," Zipper said. His voice was lower, as if he had turned and faced Ham to impart this agreement.
"Oh, yes there is," Darcy said.
"What's the name? What's the gang called?" Zipper asked.
"It's the Honda Set at Sanford High," she said.
If Darcy had thought the previous laughter was strong, if she had felt some embarrassment at being the subject of ridicule, she knew that it was nothing compared to the shouts and laughter, curses, long squeals of disdain, and the heavy chorus of guffawing that now issued from the group. The night rocked with laughter, with jokes of intimidation between individuals, with more shouts, more laughter, more and harsher and longer giggles of ridicule for Darcy's statement.
"But it's the truth," she cried, stomping one foot. Her breasts jiggled, making the ends seem like precious stones.
The laughter continued. She could not make herself heard above the din created by the Devil Cats. Angrily, she hooked her hands on her hips and turned, looking over all of the faces she could see: Itchy, Terrible Jones, Joe, Ham, and Dottie and Terry in the first row. Then she looked beyond them to the fiery blaze of faces stationed at the rear. Some place in that row, Zipper Hardy also laughed and joked and made fun of her statement. Darcy strained to see him, but could not. But in another moment she heard his voice again.
"All right-all right, let's quiet down and get on with this initiation." He paused as the other voices quieted, then he continued, saying, "Well, recruit, that's pretty terrible news you bring us-terrible, that is, if we believed it, but we don't, so what does that make you?"
"It makes me an awful good friend of the Devil Cats because it's the truth," she firmly protested.
Zip uttered a chuckle and through it said, "Honey, you're a wild one. In the first place it's just too far out to think that your cute little Honda group could do a damn thing to us. But in the second place, it's just so damn far out that we can't believe it."
"But it's the truth," Darcy said again. "Mr. Masters told me about it during a-well, a very personal conversation."
"Mr. Masters?" Zip questioned. "Who the hell is that?"
"The assistant principal at the school," Darcy heard Terry explain through her giggles. "Man-that's just too much, Cats. Little Darcy Williams has gone off her rocker-but good."
Darcy stared in Terry's direction. She felt totally frustrated, something like one who reports to unbelieving police that a murderer has stalked her.
Darcy took a new deep breath and faced in the direction of Zipper Hardy's voice. Then she said, "Well, it doesn't matter to me whether you believe me or not. But it's the truth. Masters has organized the Honda Set, and he's getting them ready to rumble the Cats. They've been mad about the Cats stealing their bikes and parts and girls. Masters-he's a real kook-wants them to meet the Cats on their home ground-in a rumble-and get rid of you, chase you out of Sanford."
"My, my," Zipper said, pretending fright. "This just shakes me all up. I'm just knocking at the knees."
"Yeah, I'm a-just a-tremblin' all over," Ham declared in a big, heavy voice.
"I think I'll scream with fear," Dottie laughed.
"And another thing," Zip said. "Why in the hell would this Masters tell you about it?"
"He wanted me to kind of be a cheerleader for the group-you know, give them encouragement and stuff," Darcy explained.
A figure that Darcy immediately identified as that of Ham walked close, then stopped, only a few feet away from where she stood, naked and exposed to them all. Ham was chuckling.
"Stuff-that's what the old man wanted you to give 'em, eh, honey?" Ham said. "Well, man-maybe in that you can qualify."
"Okay, let's stop all this jazz about a rumble with that group of queerie boys," Zipper announced. "Let's get on with the initiation."
"That's why I've walked up close to the little recruit," Ham said, turning toward Zip, whom Darcy saw suddenly emerge from the crowd.
She looked from the big Negro with the open red-leather jacket, to Zipper, who wore jeans and a denim jacket. She sought to see if anything showed in his eyes that would put her at ease, make her know that sooner or later they would be together by his desire, his will, and that he wanted to know her. But there was nothing.
"Okay, chief, what's the first step in this little ol' initiation?" Ham asked.
Zip hesitated a moment. During it, Darcy hoped-and was quite sure-that he thought of her, of some way that he himself might know the benefit of her body without first willing her to the other Devil Cats. But when he spoke, she felt total disillusionment.
"Take your turns-whatever you want," Zip said. His voice had lowered and softened.
Ham leaped in front of Darcy. A big smile split his black face. The bonfire sent its tongues lapping at his face and at the black exposure of his skin between the parted middle of his jacket.
"Well, I'm first, Chief," Ham said.
"Go ahead," Zip instructed.
"Well, I got a little something special," Ham said, turning toward Darcy. "I got a little gimmick that will test a recruit's ability to stand torture-you know, just in case those Honda kooks decide to brain wash one of our gang."
Laughter, wild and loud, split the darkness of the night.
Darcy looked straight at Ham. She remembered how he had been when she was with him. Then she remembered the aphrodisiacally-centered cigarette she had shared with him. Now, Ham merely looked at her, grinning, holding one hand behind his back. He stood to one side of her. Darcy turned and faced him.
"Okay, little ol' recruit," he said. "Stand on those sweet little piggies of yours-stand up real nice and tall on your tippie-toes and throw those little arms of yours way up over your heady-head."
New laughter broke out from the group. Some shouts of encouragement for Ham erupted too.
Darcy did as she was told. She raised her arms over her head, clasped her hands together, then tightened the total stretch of her body by rising to her toes. She felt her body grow taut, and the position intensified the feelings that growled within her. Her breasts, although they flattened a bit because of her position, still felt bloated. And the nipples hurt because of their tautness. It was as if they had cracked from heat and passion. And Darcy could actually feel the sliding lines of her hips as she stretched to the sky. Although she stared straight ahead and could not see them, she knew that they swooped in perfect, moulding lines to her thighs. Her thighs-here intense heat had centered itself. She burned, even as she acknowledged that the heat would multiply many times before the night had ended. A slight tremble had come to her knees, Darcy noticed. She could not determine if it had come from fear or from the high-reaching position she had taken. And within her there was also a tremble. It was at her belly. She knew the origin of this feeling. It was of anxiety, less for what the Devil Cats might do to her-in a flashing thought she recognized that she had already in her life done almost everything-than because of the real and urgent need she felt for an encounter with Zipper Hardy.
"Very pretty," Ham said, looking up and down the length of her. "Now, let's see how still you can be while I do a little tickling."
The words did not make sense to Darcy-not until Ham brought his hand in front of him and she saw that it held a long feather duster.
Giggles and shouts and delighted laughter bubbled from the Devil Cats like approaching thunder.
Darcy shivered when she viewed the feather duster. She could almost imagine the caress it would make on her naked body. She did not find it at all disagreeable.
Ham stepped close and Darcy stretched a little higher. She half-faced the group from her right side. She knew that she made an exceptional and very erotic picture with her belly flat, her breasts puffed out, her thighs tight, and all of it framed with the background of the blazing bonfire. She hoped that Zip was observing the curves and swoops and pretty little crevices of her body. She hoped he wanted to know them-all of them.
Lightly, delicately, like an artist, Ham brought the very tiny ends of the feathers against Darcy's neck. They felt like a billion ants converging upon a hill of honey-and her body was the honey they sought. Ham played the duster against her neck, lightly, back and forth, every so often dipping low to the very topmost portion of her breasts, then rising to the neck again, even to her chin, where he tickled beneath it as if he were making friends with a dog.
Darcy's body heated even more. She wanted to churn and turn and twist to avoid the tickling ends of the feathers. But she did not. She remained firm in her place before the Devil Cats. But she tightened the grip of her hands upon each other.
Ham brought the feathers lower, moved them back and forth across Darcy's collarbone. And again he teased the feathers low, brought them to the beginning of the hollow between her large breasts, played them there incessantly, fluffing the feathers out when he pushed it close, then bringing the duster far back so that she could only know the very ends of the feathers. Again and again he swooped at her breasts, but did not fully touch them. And the closeness, the utter closeness that was always withheld, sent her to moaning lightly, to undulating her body in a tiny circle that was meant to cram herself to the feathers, to bring them into vibrant contact with her full breasts and their nipples. But Ham always denied it, brought the teasing feathers elsewhere upon her body-at her shoulders, her arms, even up high to where her hands were clasped above her head, and several times, crouching low and slinking behind her, he played the feathers at the small of her back. Here, as he had done with her breasts, he teased as meanly as a sadistic court jester. Again and again he brought the feather ends to the very top of the crevice that separated her round, moon-like buttocks.
Twice Darcy cried out in real desire. Twice she was denied the further, deeper, tickling contact of the feather duster. And each time she cried out her plea for closeness, the Devil Cats erupted into a roar of laughter. Once, Darcy thought she heard Zip's voice among the others. She was not sure. She hoped it was not true.
Ham paused and brought the feather duster to a rest in his hanging hand. Then he grinned and began tickling at her neck again. But this time he meant to offer greater excitement. He dropped the point of his caress to the very hollow between Darcy's breasts. He caressed the feathers up and down, grooming back and forth while he held the spread of the feathers in a closer pattern so that only the ends tickled at the hollow, so that they did not reach out and touch at the round outlines of her breasts.
Darcy shook her shoulders madly, thrashing her breasts from side to side as she sought the caress of the feathers. She strained and held her high-stretched position, but she shook as if she was in a convulsion, as if her very life depended upon contact with the feathers. But Ham was quick and deft. He sprayed her with the feathers, but only within the hollow of her breasts, never, not even for a second, upon the breasts themselves or upon the nipples that stretched like frantic fingers. Darcy groaned and moaned and made mad, rolling dice of her large breasts, but still Ham denied her full contact, still he grinned and chuckled and kept the feather duster away from her whirling flesh.
Darcy thought she would surely explode. She felt the separate parts of her body-her thighs and belly, breasts, shoulders, calves, knees, toes, fingers, ears, all of her auburn hair-erupt in new heat, new desire in great, body-stammering ripples of excitement. And she thought that she would split into fragments like a grenade, burst and throw out particles of flesh at the enemies she faced. But she did not. Nor did any calming come to her when Ham again paused and looked at all her body, at the great, great torment he had caused her.
Darcy's fingers, entwined within each other, dug in anxiety, in rapture, and in great, great expectation during the pause Ham had brought to their terrifying exhibition of sexual teasing. She felt cuts come upon her fingers from her other fingers as she wound them into a knot, as she joined them fiercely in her attempt at discipline so that she would maintain the position she had been committed to, so that she would not reach out, grab the feathers and crush them upon her body. Her expression turned to one of effort as if she were withstanding a severe beating-or as if she were withstanding the assault of a million man-fingers and tongues upon her naked body.
Darcy tightened her grip when Ham approached with the feather duster again.
Acting as a comic, the big Negro bent in front of Darcy and stared closely at her body, moving from her breast ends to her belly to her navel to her thighs, then up a bit, eyeing her as if he looked for response to the feathers on her agonized flesh. There was, too. Darcy pulsated violently, exuding droplets of passion. And she could not help it, could not control it, for the tickling feathers upon her body had brought her to a summit of desire.
But still its accomplishment was denied her.
Ham extended the feather duster a bit, then paused. Then he grinned. Then he struck the feathers forward so that they were less than an inch away from her popping nipples. Darcy arched her breasts forward, but it was no good. Quickly, Ham withdrew the feather duster. But in a moment, he brought it close again, paused, then, at last, brought the very tiniest ends of the feathers into a light caress of her nipples, moving them back and forth and up and down, then in a crazy circle that daubed at them as if he were an artist applying the very smallest dot of paint, a dot so small that it might not be seen by an observer.
Ham played the feathers upon her breast ends as if he would never stop, never in a million years. He moved them back and forth, from one to the other, then back again, then across in a faster motion, then very slowly at the very point of them in a motion that was lighter than the fall of any one of the single feathers. He titillated her nearly beyond endurance. And her body undulated and twisted crazily in response. And now, her stomach began to indent and expand, pulsate in and out as if it all by itself screamed for the attention of the feathers.
Ham paused and watched Darcy's moving, crawling, demanding, but still-disciplined body. And now, strangely, he did not grin or offer a sly comment. He was sober and intent upon the movements of her body, much as if he watched the maneuvers of a serpent beneath a glass cage. And the Devil Cats had grown quiet, too. Hardly a sound from them was heard. An occasional and self-conscious cough. A whisper. The shuffle of feet upon the sand. A frequent deep breath taken into lungs. And the lap of the big lake's waves against the shore a hundred yards away. The rustle of leaves at the tops of trees several more hundred yards away. And the slight whistle of the breeze. Only this, and nothing more.
It seemed an interminable time before Ham gave any sign of movement. During the lull, Darcy had the impression that she was the only living thing in the world, the only one who moved and breathed and whimpered and cried and yearned for a sign of life from others. And she was alive, so intensely alive that it seemed akin to death.
Ham, now sober-faced and intent, extended the feather duster in front of him. He rumpled it vigorously against the fullness of Darcy's left breast.
"Yes, yes, yes," she whispered.
She kept her hands tightly clasped above her head, even remained high on her toes as she gently arched her large breasts outward to the benefit of the tickling feathers.
Ham was generous to her left breast. He splayed the feathers out as he crashed the duster fully and directly to her. And when she twisted her body again, offering her other breast for the same attention, he gave it, first dug the middle of the feather duster deeply upon her breast, completely covering it, then bringing it back to tip and tap with the feather ends.
Finally, when a new expression crossed Darcy's face, when she looked as if the tease of feathers alone might bring her to sexual completion, Ham stopped the action.
Darcy convulsed a new plea. Her tightly stretched hands dug new blood from palm and fingers. Her stomach rippled a silent chant of horrible desire. But Ham was undaunted by the gyrations of her body. He looked at her impassively, the feather duster hanging loosely in his hand.
The pause extended into eternity. And finally when Darcy thought that she could not stand delay another instant, a voice boomed out through the stillness of the night.
"For Crissakes-don't keep her waiting any longer-and that's an order."
It was Zipper Hardy who had spoken out in her behalf. Darcy felt a new ripple of thrill race throughout her body, and it was caused by more than the anticipation of the next move of feathers upon her body. It came from gratitude-perhaps even love-for the Devil King of Devil Cats.
Ham crashed the feather duster against both her breasts, massaging them vigorously, no longer teasing but allowing her the full extent of thrill that could be realized. Then, after a few moments of intense caress, he brought the feathers to the very middle of her tight belly. Here, he turned delicate again. Carefully, he tickled the feather ends over all her belly. Then he withdrew them for a moment before bringing a new, light contact at her navel. Lightly, he massaged, making the indentation of her navel wrinkle and jump inward until it turned into a mere slit, a slice of her total bareness. And then he again stopped the action.
A hush stiller than the night itself settled over all of the Devil Cats again. Now, the only sound was Darcy's heated hissing-that, and the almost indistinguishable stammer of her breathing and her body movements as she continued to twist and turn in desire.
Darcy was sure that she was at the end of her endurance. She doubted that she could stand another moment of torment. And then, suddenly, she knew that she was saved from it.
"That's all, Ham," she heard Zipper Hardy announce.
Ham, breathing hard, turned and looked in the direction of his leader.
"I said that's all," Zipper repeated.
"Man, you must be off your beanie, or something."
"I'm not," Zipper told him.
"But, jeez, man, I'm just-"
"The initiation's over. It's over right now," Zip said. "We're fooling around like a bunch of kids-it's over, damn it, over for this Jane right now. Get it."
"No, I don't get it," said big Ham, drawing himself up taller.
"You'd better get it," Zip warned.
"All I'm a-gonna get is her," Ham shouted.
The big Negro made a dive for Darcy. Zip stopped him with a quick grip at the arm. He swung Ham around. He stepped back, but only for a moment. Then Ham swung a mighty fist in the direction of Zip's head. Zip sidestepped it, then smashed his right fist into the Negro's belly, bending him over for a moment before Zip's left uppercut straightened him and sent him reeling on his back to the ground. Ham moaned. Unconcernedly, Zip moved to Darcy.
"Pick up your clothes and get them on, damn it," Zip growled at her.
Darcy bent over and picked up her clothes. Suddenly embarrassed, and terribly thrilled by Zip's intervention, she brought the clothes to her front, concealing part of her nakedness. She wondered what was going to happen-what Zip now intended to do with her.
And then, as if the skies had burst to provide her answer, there was the sound of motorcycle engines roaring from the road toward the bonfire on the beach.
The Devil Cats knew a moment of utter silence. Then somebody said, "The chick was right-it's a rumble!"
Suddenly, there was a fury of movement, and above it there was Zip's voice, shouting orders, telling them to disperse, to get with it, to go get them. And then there was the feel of his strong fingers circling her arm.
"Come on, you've gotta get out of here," he said.
He pushed her a few paces down the beach, then turned and looked at Ham, who had risen to his knees.
"Up and at 'em, Ham," Zip said. "Get the gang organized-I'll be right back. Till then, you're in charge. Go get 'em, Ham."
Ham, a bit wobbly, rose to his feet. He grinned at Zip, then moved to take charge as Zip hurried Darcy down the beach and away from the scene of the rumble.
Zip did not give up his hold on Darcy's arm until they had reached a deserted boat house at the edge of the lake. Then he paused at its entrance, moved his hand to her shoulder, and gave her a strong push, sending her flying inside, flat upon the sand but within a shelter that would shield her from battle.
"Hey," she complained as she sprawled upon the sand bottom of the boat house.
"Just stay there," he ordered. "Stay there and don't move until this is over. I'll be back-maybe."
Zip turned and sprinted in the direction of roaring motors, shouts, screams, cries, curses, and the general confusion of a brawl that would not end until there was a victor and a vanquished.
Darcy looked after the running night-shadow of him. Despite the seriousness of the fight, she could not help smiling.