Chapter 5
East Village was like a small town when something important like Ernie Snyder's unhappy demise occurred. The rumors and gossips flew hot and heavy in Tony Galucci's barber shop on the corner. Ty Grinnell just leaned back as Tony trimmed his hair and got an earful.
"I tell you Christy done Ernie in," the man in chair number one said through his lathered lips.
"Naw, it must have been that blonde waitress," the resident of chair number three declared positively.
"Whoever done it-Ernie Snyder was a dirty fink and deserved what he got!," chair number five chimed in.
"'Da cops, they bother me and my men all morning. Asking all kindsa questions. We no get work done," Tony lamented to Ty as he finished the special razor cut job Ty liked.
Ty paid Tony and thoughtfully left the shop. He had a few unanswered questions of his own floating around in his mind.
"Who was the blonde waitress? No one even knew her."
What had happened to her? Who cared. If she got away, that was fine.
Ty walked back to the office. He had been there about ten minutes when Tom Riley came in. He looked tired, worn out. The routine work of a detective wasn't easy. He grabbed a chair, sat down, leaned back.
"What the hell happened to that waitress? I've talked to twenty men she served-I've got twenty different descriptions. She was tall and short, thin and fat, blonde and not quite blonde. She was pretty and plain, blue-eyed and brown-eyed. She was young and old. What was she like, really?"
"Young, slim and blonde," Ty answered. "That would fit only about sixty hundred women around here. In the entire city, sixty thousand."
"Take a look at 'em," Ty said. "That would wear me out. Where is she, Grinnell?"
"I don't know."
"Find her for me."
"How can I?"
"I don't know, but you better do it. I might take a look at your record."
"Go ahead."
"I don't look at people the usual ways," the detective said. "I want that woman-understand?"
"Sure. I'll do what I can," Ty said.
He would, but he would do it for himself. If Lorene had some kind of value he would collect for himself. He leaned back in his chair after Riley left, closed his eyes, and did some thinking. For a time there wasn't any rhyme or reason in what he was thinking. He started with Ellie Snyder.
He had just left her-and her husband. That had been a damned narrow escape. If Hugh had arrived fifteen or twenty minutes earlier he would have surprised him and Ellie in her bedroom-and in her bed-having a hell of a wonderful fuck together. As it was, he was still in the house when Hugh got there-and he had been forced to think like chain lightning. He had come up with a possible yarn. Ellie had helped him in a fumbling sort of way. At any rate he got over the first hump, managed to walk away. Maybe he hadn't walked away as much of a hero figure-but neither had he crawled.
Of course, that wasn't important. That was incidental. And the fucking of Ellie had been incidental, as fine as that had been. What was of vital concern was this-Ellie wasn't broke. She had her hands on some money. She could probably raise more. What he had to determine now was how to clip her-nicely, so there was no reaction, no pain, no trouble.
Of course he had a little time with her.
But he didn't have much time with Lorene Tucker.
Lorene Tucker ... What had happened to her?
It could be she was miles away, but he had a feeling she wasn't. She had been stoned, drunk. Then she woke up and fled, but she must have staggered all over the street. In that condition, she couldn't have gone far. Margie Kind had seen her-if she wasn't lying, and she had said the woman she noticed had seemed drunk. At that time, Hank Siodak had been out in front of his apartment house. He might have seen her. He had been on the street that night. Lefty was a jack-roller, a mugger, a thoroughly unpleasant character. If he had caught a glimpse of her he might have taken a crack at her-and in that case she would probably be in the hospital. Lefty wasn't easy on his customers. In that case, the police had her. He could forget about questioning Lefty.
Hank Siodak was a real possibility. He worked for the subway, had a good job, a steady job. He should have been able to move out of here, but he hadn't. He said he liked it here. Ty had heard that he had money, and for that reason he was on his list-but that didn't mean any more than that he was a prospect for future consideration. Anyone in the district who had money was on Ty's list.
It was late in the afternoon. Hank ought to be home. Ty left his office, went to see him.
Hank wasn't friendly. He was suspicious of any professional person. If Ty had worked with is hands-in a restaurant or bar he would have been acceptable. As a white collar man, a gentleman, he didn't belong. Hank said "Yeah, what do you want?"
"It was hot last night," Ty said. "You sat out front until it was quite late."
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."
"A woman went along the street, heading west. It was about eleven forty-five. She was wearing a man's light tan topcoat."
"That so?"
"Don't you remember?"
Hank shook his head. "The days have been hot, my work's been heavy. When I come home I just sit. That's all-sit. Don't do nothin'-don't think about nothin'."
"If you'd seen this woman...."
"Wouldn't have noticed her-wouldn't be talking about her anyhow. Don't go in for gossip."
Ty scowled, bit his lips, and was silent. He wished he could have put Hank on the witness stand, under oath. If he could have done that he might have learned something. The way things were he wouldn't get anywhere. He might as well move on, forget about Hank Siodak.
He did, headed on down the street, and he was thinking that this was the direction Lorene must have taken. She had walked from the corner where Margie had seen her, past Hank's-and on to where?
He stopped suddenly. Just ahead was Rudy Estrada's. A dozen women could have been housed in Rudy's back rooms. Lorene wouldn't have gone here-on her own-but it wasn't unrealistic that Rudy might have taken her in. In a way. Rudy was like him. He saw the possibility of money in everything that came up. Here was Lorene last night, staggering along the street. She might have been slumming from uptown, out on a tear. He could take her in-and charge her plenty to get away if he guaranteed no publicity.
Yes. Definitely, Lorene could be here, in Rudy's.
But how could he be sure of that how could he reach her?
He stood there for a full minute-thinking, figuring on what he could do. Rudy wouldn't spill any beans. He was like the Sphinx-stone-face himself. A bluff wouldn't work either. He was a tough character, had the resilience of iron. He couldn't be bought-but some of his employees might. He had a Japanese girl named Nikko who was really something. Small beautiful, young, like a flower. If he could get to her.
Ty moved on, turned into the shop-five steps down then through a door and into a small parlor. The air in the place was lightly scented. The room was rather dim. Not much light got through the curtained windows. The walls were draped. One of the drapes moved, and Rudy came into the room.
"Ah, Senor Grinnell," he said, and he walked forward, smiling. "I had not expected you."
"Just came by," Ty said. "It's been a rough day."
"Most days are rough. We live in a too hurried pace."
"You can say that again. I've been on my feet all day."
"Then it is time to rest-and to relax."
"Yeah, I want to talk about that-anything doing tonight?"
"Nothing tonight. This woman you mentioned...."
"I wasn't thinking of her. I want to figure something for her next week. Monday or Tuesday."
"Monday or Tuesday? That will be fine."
Ty looked away. "You've got a Japanese girl here, haven't you. I mean...."
"Ah, you must mean Nikko."
"Yes ... that's her name. Is she here now?"
Rudy shook his head. "She is not here now. She is with her people. But she will be here later-ten or eleven."
"Could I see her? That is ... "
"I think that could be arranged. If you would like to take a room now...."
"No. Later," Ty said. "About eleven."
"She will be here. She is a delightful companion-very understanding."
Ty grunted. He didn't like this-setting up a hump-date-but there wasn't any other way to meet her-get a chance to talk to her. He could have tried to stop her on the street-but in a direct approach like that he didn't think she would talk.
"Be back at eleven," he said to Rudy and he turned toward the door, but stopped and looked around.
"Have the police bothered you today?"
Rudy shook his head. "No. Why should they?"
"They've been all over the district, like flies, asking questions about Ernie Snyder."
"Ah-the murder. Yes, I did talk to several of your police officers-but I could not help them. I get along, with the police very well."
"I'll bet you do," Ty said.
He grinned-and left-and he was wondering how much protection money Rudy was paying, and who picked it up. It might be to his advantage to know such a thing. That might be worth something. If he could get close to this Japanese girl while he was frigging her-if he could get her to talk....
He walked on down the street, thinking, looking ahead, planning. Nikko had been around quite a time. Reasonably, she might know something about Rudy's operation. She might talk for free-or she might talk for money. If he risked a little in that direction it might be worth while.
Tom Riley stopped him on the corner. "Anything new?"
"Nothing yet," Ty answered, and his eyes narrowed. "Do you have any time schedule? When do you knock off?"
"Never-while a case is hot." The detective pulled off his hat, smoothed his hand over the perspiring bald spot. Course if I pick up this blonde waitress, I can slow down a bit. Seen the nespapers?"
"They're building this up as a real case. I don't figure Ernie Snyder was much-but the way he got killed was special-a meat cleaver through the skull-blood everywhere. If you ever kill anybody and want to make the headlines, make it a bloody affair. Don't be a piker."
"I haven't found it necessary to kill anyone-yet."
"Don't, the detective said, "They always get caught."
Ty walked on, and he was vaguely uneasy. Tom Riley didn't bother him too much, but he was symbolic of what was happening everywhere. Right now there were probably a dozen detectives combing the area. Watching-listening-digging for information. They might uncover a number of things beyond what they learned about the death of Ernie Snyder.
Another man stopped him-Gabe Blaney. Big, thick bodied, black-skinned. A rather quiet man-or at least he seemed quiet, and he kept out of trouble. He had a line to City Hall and another to the syndicate. He had powerful friends in both directions. An influential man. Ty hadn't had any trouble with him, but he sensed the man didn't like him.
"What did the cop want?" Gabe asked. "He's just looking," Ty answered. "Who's he after?"
"The blonde waitress who worked for Ernie."
"Know where she is?"
"No. Do you?"
Gabe shook his head. "I don't know nothin'. None of us know nothin'. Ernie got what was comin'."
"Didn't mean anything to me," Ty said.
"You've been asking questions-just like the cops." Gabe said.
Ty stiffened. He didn't like this-being put on a grill. He wanted to tell Gabe Blaney to go to hell-but he didn't. That wouldn't be smart.
"You prodded Margie King." Gave said flatly.
Ty moistened his lips. He did some quick thinking, then nodded. It was time to gamble. If it worked right it ought to tie him closer to the district-and he needed that. He lowered his voice. "You want the truth?"
"Might be interesting."
"Christy Higgins brought the blonde waitress to my apartment, the night Ernie was killed."
"That so?" Gabe sounded skeptical.
"That's the truth," Ty said. "Christy didn't come in, but Lorene did. She wanted help. She said she didn't know anyone in the city-and she didn't have any money. She said she didn't kill Ernie but she couldn't stand an investigation. She wanted me to hide her."
"What happened?"
"I went to the kitchen to fix a couple of drinks. While I was doing that Lorene changed her mind. She grabbed my topcoat to hide her uniform-and left. That was a damned good topcoat. I want it back."
"Have you told the cops the waitress was at your place?"
Ty shook his head. "You think I'm crazy? I haven't told them anything."
"That's a good rule, Grinnell."
"What?"
"That one-don't tell the cops anything."
"I'm not about to sing," Ty said. "Never did, never will."
Gabe scrubbed his jaw. He motioned vaguely. "Christy Higgins was a pretty decent guy. Don't know if he killed Ernie, or not. Don't care. Hope he made it wherever he headed."
"So do I" Ty said.
Gabe Blaney grunted, nodded, and turned away. Ty walked on. He spent a little time thinking about Gabe Blaney. The man was as crooked as they came. He controlled the policy racket in this district-the numbers game. Several people worked with him. They collected a hell of a lot of money. They couldn't keep it all. A good percentage went in to the syndicate pool. Part of this was paid out as protection. The syndicate, itself, was a powerful organization. He wouldn't have wanted to tangle with it for a moment, but he was still annoyed about Gabe Blaney. There ought to be some way to handle him some safe way. The man just didn't like him-and probably never would. His own growing importance in the district was threatened by men like Blaney.
It was time for dinner-then for several hours he could prowl the street and see what he could learn. If he turned up nothing by eleven P.M., why then he would see what he could accomplish with the Japanese girl, Nikko.
He was smiling by this time. Nikko! What a hell of a name! Young, but old enough. Wise in the ways of the world. And rather beautiful. The evening might be a lot of fun. And costly. Rudy would clip him for about fifty bucks. A private deal with Nikko might cost another fifty. He didn't like that-he didn't like that at all-but he would make it up some other way. There would be all sorts of avenues which led to the bank.
He headed for one of his favorite restaurants. For a change, he would have a good meal. This might turn out to be a long hard, grueling evening. It seemed a good steak was in order.
She dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed. Some were pleasant dreams, reaching far down into her childhood. She retraced a picnic she had attended when she was about eight, she recalled her thirteenth birthday. Her mother, who had been a very sensible person and who wasn't afraid of any superstitions at all, had decorated her cake with a black cat made of chocolate icing, and in order to get into the house you had to walk under a ladder. "Lorene," her mother had said. "Lorene, never be afraid of anything. If you are pushed into a corner-fight. Fight your way out."
Her mother was much more aggressive than her father. He believed in taking things easy. But her mother had taught her to fight. To fight her way out.
It was good her mother had said that. She had had a rough time during the past year. She had been forced to fight her way out of the corner on several occasions. First there had been Jud-and he had smothered her. Overwhelmed her. But she had finally got away from him. Not all the way, possibly. She could still imagine him, bobbing in the dark waters of the well. But he would stay there forever.
Then there had been Wayne Boland-and he had been like a nightmare-a figment of her imagination. But at the same time he had been very real. Wayne Boland, a thin, scrawny man. Hunched and about forty. He had thin, iron-gray hair, and bristling whiskers. Brown eyes. Kind, brown eyes. And a tired but friendly smile. He had seemed like such a pleasant man she had trusted him-but she would never trust a man again. Never. Especially she wouldn't trust a man who seemed friendly and who offered to help her.
Right now, remembering Wayne Boland, she knew she was only half asleep, that she was caught in a reverie, caught on the edge of consciousness. She made a vague attempt to choke off this section of her life but something wouldn't let her. She wanted to get to the present-to what was happening now-but to get there she had to travel in Wayne's truck.
It was an old truck, and it was almost empty, and it bounced along the highway. Hundreds of other cars passed them. The truck couldn't go very fast.
"Where you headed for?" Wayne asked, after he helped her into the seat beside him.
"Just ... anywhere," Lorene answered.
"Running away?"
"From my Aunt and Uncle. I don't have any other folks."
"Glad it ain't a husband who might be after you." Wayne said, and he laughed. "What you looking for-up the road."
"A job," Lorene answered. "A job for money. I've been working for nothing."
"Jobs can be scarce as hen's teeth."
She shook her head. "I'll find one-somewhere I'll find one. I'm strong and I don't mind work. I'll get along some way."
They talked, casually, as the afternoon passed. Toward dark they stopped, and at a drive-in they had hamburgers and coffee-and Wayne paid for them. They used the restrooms, Wayne bought more gas, and they drove on-and on-and on.
It must have been toward midnight when he pulled off the highway, turned on a side road, drove under a covering of trees in someone's orchard, and stopped the truck. "Good place to lay up," he said, and his voice hadn't changed a bit. "Can't keep going all night. There's a couple blankets back there. You take one, I'll take the other."
"I'll stay here," Lorene said. "I'm not sleepy."
She had looked around into the blackness of the bed of the truck. Possibly, Wayne wouldn't touch her, but why take a risk?
"Suit yourself," the man said. "Want to stay up, that's okay by me."
He hadn't bothered her all afternoon, or all evening. He made no pass toward her now. He climbed over the seat and into the bed of the truck. He put a blanket over the seat for her, then he settled down, and apparently, went to sleep.
Lorene sat up-but she had been sitting up for hours. Her muscles had stiffened, her back hurt, she was developing a headache. It occurred to her she was being very foolish not to roll up in the blanket he had given her. It was foolish not to get a little rest. Tomorrow might be a hard day.
Very carefully then, she climbed into the back of the truck. She wrapped the blanket around her, stretched out on her back, closed her eyes. She fell asleep almost instantly.
Then she awoke. When she went to sleep she had been on the edge of the floor of the truck, and she had been quite alone. She was in the same place when she woke up-but she was no longer alone. Wayne was with her. Under her blanket. Partly under her dress feeling for her cunt. One hand was on her tits. It hadn't been much of a problem to get there. Before going to sleep she had loosened her clothes, unfastened her brassiere.
She awoke aware of his hand on her breast and of his heavy breathing. She could feel the heat of his body, too, although he was fully clothed. And he smelted of sweat. A sickening sweat.
He spoke to her under his breath. "Hey, kiddo, wake up. Knew you'd come back here. Hoped you would, anyhow. Wake up!"
She didn't move for a moment, didn't say a word, but she started thinking swiftly. It wasn't going to be easy to escape from here. She recognized that instantly. He had her against the wall of the truck. She couldn't roll away, couldn't jerk away and run. If it came to an out and out struggle she wouldn't be a match for him. Maybe, if she started struggling, he would give up. She could try that, at least, but if that didn't work, then she would have to trick him. And that was a problem. How could she get away for just an instant? How could she get out of his clutches far enough to make a break, get out of the truck, and dive into the darkness? Only one possibility occurred to her. That might work-it might not.
That hand on her breasts got a little rougher. He pinched one of the nipples, pinched the other. They had hardened. She had sensed that. There was even a low wave of excitement stirring over her body but she meant to smother that. Did she want to be fucked by this man ... Never! In some way or other she was going to escape.
First the struggle. She would try that.
Then the trick-and if that didn't work....
He shook her impatiently. "Hey, kiddo! Wake up! The party's about to get started. Come on-wake up!"
She made a loud gasp, reached for the hand on her tit, tried to move it-but couldn't. She tried to sit up but that wasn't possible either.
"Hey, what's the matter with you, anyhow?" he asked, growling the words. "What the hell do you think I picked you up for? There ain't nothin' that comes for free, kiddo. Not a damned thing."
She started struggling, but didn't get anywhere. His arms held her down, pressed her against the wall and the floor of the truck. She still struggled, and she whispered, "Please, Wayne, Please!"
"Nothing doing, kiddo."
"Please...."
"Nope. I been planning this hump all afternoon. I ain't about to miss out."
She relaxed, just a bit. But the man didn't. One arm was around her. One hand was fairly free to fumble with her breasts, or to start tugging on her dress. She was prisoned right where she was-and to get free seemed impossible. She relaxed even more and when he leaned over to kiss her, she made no protest. She even opened her mouth. She didn't wince when his hand dug under her dress and felt her cuntlips.
He pulled away from her to say, "Ease up, kiddo. Ease up a little. I know what I'm tryin'. I'm gonna get in there too."
She whispered a word. "Maybe...."
"Maybe nothin'," he answered, and he laughed, and that hand of his beneath her dress moved, "my cock is soon gonna be up that nice cunny of yours."
She spoke again. "Wayne...."
"What is it, kiddo?"
"If I've got to do this...."
"You gotta, kiddo. I'm gonna fuck you an' that's all there is to that."
"Wayne, if I've got to do this, then let's do this right. These clothes ... I want to get them off ... "
"Well, IH be damned...."
"That would make fucking more fun...."
This was the trick. This was what she had been working toward. She had stopped fighting him, and let him kiss her, had let that hand of his move on her bush or on her cuntlips as he wanted. But then she had come to this-an offer to take off her clothes. This ought to work. She would have to get up for just an instant, but an instant was all she needed. She would dive for the front seat, scramble away. In the darkness she would be safe.
She said, "Wayne ... should I take off my clothes?"
He was pleased. No question about that. "Take 'em off?" he said. "Sure we'll take 'em off. I'll even help."
"I can do it quicker."
"Maybe you can, Kiddo, but I can't wait. We'll get 'em off soon enough-but we'll do that later."
"But Wayne...."
She was lost. In making her bid to get up and take off her clothes she had relaxed-and that hand under her skirt had finally gotten to her cunt-hole and she was lost.
She could have closed her eyes and thought it was Jud who was fucking her-for Wayne's manner was just the same. He wasn't thinking about her-not once. He was enjoying himself. He was pleasuring his own cock....
That was the way men frigged women-God how she hated them.
She kept her eyes closed. She told herself, Easy, Lorene. Easy. Get through the next few minutes. Close your mind to what is happening. This won't kill you, anyhow. Take this easy, but what did that mean....
What was happening to her body? He had thrust his cock in her cunt and was ramming it in and out of her vagina, suddenly she felt the warm spurts of his hot scum shooting into her cunt as he ejaculated in the throes of his orgasm.
That low tide of excitement she had felt was more than a low tide. That was boiling, churning through her cunt, riding along the nerve paths. That broke her up in a riotious giving, and as that subsided her strength seemed to drain away.
Wayne moved away. He said, "God, kiddo. God-this was really good fucking. An' we're just starting."
She didn't answer, didn't move. But she heard every word he said and she knew what he meant. This was just the beginning. He would fuck her again-and she would respond. And again-and her cunt would come again. He would slobber kisses on her face-he would move to her breasts. He would work at her-and work at her-and work at her. Tomorrow she would hardly be able to walk, her tight cunt would be so sore-her breasts would seem to be on fire. She would be listless, her mind would be dead. She would sit in the truck next to Wayne and now and then he would prod her and boast about himself. He might feed her during the day, but when it grew dark again and when they stopped somewhere ... well, she would just have to fuck for her supper.
She shook her head and she said, "Never-never-I can't take that...."
"Never?" Wayne said. "You can't take what? What you talking about?"
"I was dreaming, I guess," Lorene said.
"You wasn't dreaming a while ago. You know what happened, kiddo? You got yourself fucked-an' I really mean fucked."
She made a sound in her throat.
"You can take your clothes off now." Wayne said.
"I was too eager, a while ago. Damned if I wasn't ready. Be ready with a hard-on again pretty soon, too. You're really gonna get plenty of hot cock tonight, kiddo."
"I want to get my purse," Lorene said. "It's on the seat of the car."
"Your purse-what the hell you want with your purse?"
"It's my handkerchief I want, really. After I get that I'll take my clothes off."
"Yeah-that's what I want." Wayne said. "Get your clothes off. I'll get off mine, too-or maybe I'll let you do that."
"Let me do that," Lorene said.
The man laughed. "You better hurry."
"I'll just get my handkerchief," Lorene said.
She got up, moved to the front seat. She reached over to the side. Wedged there were three tools which Wayne needed on occasion. A screw driver, a pair of pliers, and a wrench. Lorene picked up the wrench. It was of good size, the iron jaws were heavy. Holding it at her side, she turned back.
"Come on, I'm jist waitin," Wayne called. "Here I am," Lorene answered. She knelt down above his head, felt for it with her free hand.
"Hey, come on around here," Wayne said. "What you doin' back there?"
"I've got something for you," she answered, and she lifted the wrench into the air, then brought it down. She swung it as hard as she could. Jud hadn'tbled very much when she smashed his skull, but with Wayne it was different. His head caved in.
She shuddered, rolled from side to side. The memories which were torturing her were too vivid, too real. It was hard to remember Wayne's features and he didn't have any after he died. In the grey of the dawn his face had been nothing but a mess of drying blood, gristle and bone. Earlier he must have looked like something, but she couldn't see him in her mind, couldn't remember him clearly. That bothered her, but she didn't know why.
A voice reached her, a girl's voice, low, and there was a note of sadness in it. "You have been having evil dreams. I am very sorry. I think we will chase them away."
Lorene looked toward the voice. She was still on the shadowy borderland which separates sleep from the conscious world. She was awake but not wide awake. The gray softness of the unconscious shrouded her thinking. She could see the girl sitting on the edge of the bed, but not clearly. She had very dark hair and was wearing a black silk robe, a Japanese robe, embroidered in gold. Japanese-there had been a Japanese girl she had met on the street-but that seemed long ago.
She closed her eyes and she thought, who am I? That was easy to answer. She was Lorene Tucker. But where was she, how had she come here, what was happening to her now, what was ahead ... she shook her head numbly. Questions like those were too difficult to handle. She didn't even try to answer them. It would be easier to go back to sleep.
But she couldn't. Or at least she didn't. That girl on the edge of the bed spoke again, "Lorene, I have brought you more tea. It is very good tea. I made it myself."
Tea! She had some tea when the Japanese girl last night-or had it been last night? What time was it now?
"You do not remember me?" the Japanese girl said. "I am Nikko. I brought you here."
Lorene looked at the girl. The lights were low. She couldn't see the girl's face clearly but she seemed very young-and pleasant.
"You Drought me here," Lorene said.
"You were wandering in the street," Nikko said. "I think someone had given you too much whiskey-or something else-"
"Mr. Grinnell."
"So."
Lorene closed her eyes again. That name Grinnell had popped into her mind, and as though that was a key, a flood of memories swept over her. She had come to New York City, thinking she could lose herself somewhere here. She had looked for a job, by accident had gone to work for Ernie Snyder. It hadn't been pleasant working for him and that night-Christy Huggins-the meat cleaver....
She shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
"This tea will make you feel better," Nikko said.
Lorene looked at the girl again. "How long have I been here?"
"A night and a day. I think you were very tired. You slept all the time."
"I ... the police...."
Nikko shook her head. "The police never come here."
"Then you know."
"You worked for Ernie Snyder."
"I didn't kUl him."
"Christy Higgins killed him. That is well known to those who live here. Even the police feel that way. Can I show you something?" She got up, moved to the dresser at the side, picked up a hand mirror, and walked back. She held out the mirror to Lorene. "Look at yourself."
Lorene looked into the mirror, and her eyes widened. She could hardly recognize herself. Her hair had been dyed. It was now a midnight black. Her eyebrows were black, too.
"Who ... who did it?" she asked.
"I did," Nikko said. "I hope you are not angry. Now, try your tea.
It was a sweet tea, hot, but not too hot, and there was a faint fragrance to it. It tasted very good. It seemed to strengthen her even as she was drinking it, but it didn't occur to her to get up, it didn't sharpen her thinking. Her mind wasn't working very fast. Later she would realize that the tea she was taking wasn't just tea. Other things had been added.
"The police are looking for a blonde waitress," Nikko said. "I do not think you are blonde any more."
"I dyed my hair once before," Lorene said. "I was fourteen. I made my hair a horrible red. Mother wanted to spank me. She should have."
"I must have had a mother," Nikko said, "But I cannot remember her."
Lorene looked at the girl curiously. "How old are you?"
"You may guess."
"Sixteen."
"Almost twice sixteen."
"I can't believe it."
"If I seem younger, then that is very good. Now, if you will lie on your back I will see if I can make your muscles feel better."
"You don't have to do that."
"But I want to. I think I like you very much. I do not have many friends."
"Men...."
"Would you like to hear a secret? I hate men. All men. I cannot stand it when a man fucks me."
Lorene took a quick breath. "You feel that way too?"
"You will never know how much I hate them."
"I hate them too," Lorene said. "All men. If I never saw one in my lifetime again I think I would be happy."
"That is not the way I feel." Nikko said, and her voice had sharpened. There was an edge to it, a sense of bitterness. "I would like to get even with them. I would like to punish them. I would like to make them suffer as they have made me suffer. Slow torture would be too good for them."
"I...." Lorene started. "I ... "
"There is no reason you should not like this," Nikko said. "I think I will just keep on with what I am doing. No-I will even do more for I think this is good for the body."
The Japanese woman moved nearer. Her head hovered over Lorene's breasts and Lorene shut her eyes, tightly. But she knew what was happening. She could feel soft lips at one of her nipples, could feel the tickle. Nikko moved to the other nipple. And another thing happened. Nikko's hand moved gently over her exposed nipple and began to massage it until it stood up large and loved. Jud had done that-and Wayne-but not the way Nikko was. Slowly, carefully, the hand so gentle there was no hurt, only ecstasy.
She had started moving her cunt and hips but Nikko raised her head to say, "Do not hurry, Lorene. The longer you hold back, the better this will be. We have no hurry-you and I. We have all the time in the world. See if you like this...."
Then Lorene could feel Nikko's lips again and what was happening to her was beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. She had lost control of her body, of her emotions. She had stopped thinking. She was feeling-that was all-feeling-riding the crest of a cascading wave. Then everything was over, breaking away. Her body stopped moving, her tensions slid away as she had a tremendous come.
Nikko crawled back beside her, and now it seemed her black silk robe bad disappeared some time or other, and below that she wasn't wearing anything. She pulled up the bed covers, lay close to Lorene, her hand again on Lorene's breast. She spoke slowly, and very seriously.
"It was good, Lorene? Very good? If that was, you must say so."
Lorene bit her lips. "I ... I don't know what to say!"
"You would rather have a man?"
"No-never!"
"Then-did you not enjoy me? Was that not very good? Close your eyes and remember how that was."
Lorene closed her eyes-and remembered. She could feel one of Nikko's hands on her breasts, right now. That gave her a pleasant tingle. Such a gentle hand-so soft, caressing, careful. Maybe this was wrong, but she had loved what had happened. Nikko was a thousand times better than a man.
A man-she never wanted another man's prick-never! "That was good," Nikko insisted. "Yes," Lorene nodded. "That was good."
"Would you have my twat-or some man's cock?"
"Never another man."
"I have breasts too," the Japanese woman said. "Here-you may feel them."
She reached for one of Lorene's hands, drew it to her breast. Nikko's breasts were small and hard. The nipples were like round, blunted eruptions. Lorene had never felt any other woman's breasts. It gave her a strange feeling to touch these, which belonged to someone else. They even excited her. She touched Nikko's breasts and smiled at the way the nipples hardened even more.
"Is this the way-with two women?" she asked suddenly.
"There are a hundred ways," Nikko answered. "You will learn them all."
"If I could learn them from you...."
"Why not, Why not stay here?"
"But how can I?"
"Rudy will arrange that."
"Rudy...."
"He will never fuck you. That is-he is not interested in screwing women."
It was very pleasant, here on the bed. She felt very much alive, but she didn't want to get up. It would be good to stay here. It would be good if Nikko could stay with her. Nikko! A Japanese woman! And, if she had told the truth, she was over thirty, although that seemed impossible. A small, child-like woman-with the most gentle hands in the world. Exciting hands too. And exciting lips ... The way Nikko had kissed her nipples....
She rolled to the side, pulled Nikko into her arms, held her tightly against her body, and in that gesture all the rigid bonds which had formed during her early life were shattered, smashed into bits, destroyed forever. She had tasted men, and she wanted no more of them. What Nikko had offered was much better, a thousand times better.
But Lorene was still nervous and Nikko could feel the uneasy turning of her vibrant, lovely body. Nikko, sensitive to every tremor of Lorene's appealing form, knew many ways of soothing.
"You must sleep now, Lorene dear," she said tenderly moving her hand to the girl's curved, upthrust breasts.
"Just lie back," Nikko purred, "What I do now will be very relaxing."
With infinite delicacy, she began to massage Lorene's yielding breast softly, and as the nipple stiffened and erected she began on the other. When both nipples were jutting like large crimson cherries, Nikko mouthed them with a slow, circular motion of her head. Lorene felt a wave of calmness, mixed with rising desire pervade her as she lay back.
Nikko looked up a moment and then slowly moved Lorene's lovely thighs a little more widely apart. Without a moment's hesitation her head went swiftly to Lorene's cunt. Nikko's expert lips curled, her tongue worked with intricate skill and Lorene sighed deeply as the unusual, warm sensations sped through her. As Nikko nibbled gently at her twat, Lorene's buttocks began an undulating response.
Then with the suddeness of a thunderclap the warmth seemed to have the fire of molten metal. Lorene's hips tensed, and then her belly contorted in a frenzied dance which rippled through her whole body as she had her orgasm
"Oh, Nikko!", she screamed happily in a high tide of ecstasy, "that's the most terrific sensation ever!"
As the come spent itself and dwindled, Lorene nestled in the comfort of Nikko's embrace and was soon in a deep sleep.