Chapter 6
Emily Francis and Harvey Lecheur had their blood tests and waited the five days as required by Wisconsin state law, then they were wed in a simple civil ceremony. Carol attended the wedding and her mother even asked her if she would like to go along with them on the honeymoon. Carol, of course, refused. As a matter-of-fact, while they were away, she did an awful lot of thinking.
After doing almost every imaginable thing, in the way of sex, with Mr. Lecheur, it was going to be awfully difficult living with him and her mother. He wasn't the type of man who would let a little thing, like him being married to her mother, stop him from wanting to go to bed with him, on occasions. They had been far too intimate for him to let it end so easily. Somehow Carol just couldn't picture herself having sexual relations of any kind with the same man with whom her mother was having. The mere thought of such a thing repulsed her.
She would be seventeen soon and certainly would be far more experienced than most girls her age. True, she still had another year to go before she was graduated from high school. But from the way that things looked now, with Olivia Grant still furious with her because she refused to do her bidding and have anything more to do with her or her brother, it didn't look as if her chances of being graduated, or even being promoted into the next grade, were very promising if she remained in West Allis. After much thought, Carol finally decided that the smartest and safest thing to do was to pack her things and leave town. She was certain that her mother wouldn't object too strenuously, or put a great deal of effort into trying to find her. In fact, she wasn't sure that her mother might even be a little relieved to have her gone, because then she would have all of Mr. Lecheur's money for herself.
Two days before her mother and the new stepfather were due back from their one week's honeymoon, Carol gathered together what things she would need and stuffed them into a couple of suitcases. Then she took herself to the bank and closed out her savings account. That, together with interest, totaled $252.75. From there she went to the bus terminal in Milwaukee. She had given almost as much consideration to where she would go as she had to leaving.
At first, she thought of going to New York. But in spite of all the things that she had learned from Mr. Lecheur and Olivia Grant and her sex-mad brother, she was still an incurable romanticist, trusting and woefully naive. So she finally decided on Hollywood.
In her fanciful young mind, Carol saw Hollywood as it had been depicted in films of the twenties and thirties that she had seen on television. She remembered all the storybook tales that were told about how girls were discovered in drug stores, supermarkets, while attending parties and simply walking along the streets of what had once been the cinema capital of the world. Discovered and zoomed to fame overnight.
All a girl had to be was pretty, and she was all of that. Everyone told her so. Everyone who saw her body said that that was beautiful, too. If all those other girls had made it, there was no reason why she couldn't make it, too. All she had to do was to be discovered. So with this thought firmly entrenched in her adolescent mind, Carol bought a one-way bus ticket to Hollywood, hoping that it would be the first big step along the "yellow brick road" to fame and fortune and happiness.
Carol had no idea that it was so far from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to California and when the bus finally deposited her at Hollywood and Vine, at mid-afternoon, she was a thoroughly "beat" young lady. The first thing that she did was to check into a nearby hotel. She rode up in the elevator and followed the uniformed bellboy into a single room on the twelfth floor. As he fussed with the air conditioner and lights and her bags, Carol stepped to the window and looked out. If it hadn't been for the smog, she could have seen all the way to Beverly Hills and farther. What she did see of the city along Hollywood Boulevard with its marquees and garish store fronts made her pulse beat faster. It was exciting to be a part of a city like Hollywood and that was what she was going to be-a tangible part of it ... maybe with her name upon one of those marquees?
"Will that be all, Miss Francis?" the bellboy asked, solicitously.
Carol turned and smiled, "Yes, thank you."
In her seersucker suit and her hair arranged in an upsweep so that it wouldn't have blown wild during the long trip, she looked much older than almost her seventeen years and there was no denying that her voluptuous body belied her tender age. She had traveled back and forth from Milwaukee to Chicago enough times with her mother, to know that bellboys expected tips for their service, so she gave him one.
The bellboy who was no taller than she, and didn't look a great deal older, accepted the tip with a whisper of phony gratitude. He looked at her bountiful bust and gorgeously curved legs and trim ankles and said, "If there's anything you want, Miss Francis, any way I can be of service." He paused for effect, "Just pick up the phone and call the desk and ask for Benny." Then he opened the door and went out.
Carol relaxed slowly and locked the door. Then, without even bothering to unpack, she stripped down to her panties and bra, threw herself across the bed and was soon asleep, dreaming of the exciting new life ahead of her, wondering exactly what it would bring.
Carol's baptismal of fire in Hollywood came quickly. She couldn't have been asleep more than a couple of hours when the phone bell awakened her. She had no idea who it could be. Certainly her mother couldn't have picked up her trail in so short a time. Wondering, she picked up the phone.
"Yes?"
"Miss Francis?" asked a masculine voice at the other end of the wire. "Yes?"
"My name is Haynes. Wally Haynes. You don't know me, of course," the voice came through the transceiver. "But I'm a guest here at this hotel, same as you. You can verify it at the desk, if you care to. In any event, I saw you when you registered this afternoon and I was rather impressed, if you don't mind my being so bold. I thought I'd give you a chance to rest up and then call and ask if you'd like to have dinner with me this evening."
"Dinner?" Carol echoed with surprise.
"Yes. I-er-I'd like to talk to you. I have quite a few contacts here in Hollywood and I thought if you were planning to stay here awhile...."
Carol didn't really hear what else he had said. Her heart suddenly began beating faster, her brain starting to spin. In Hollywood only a couple of hours and already she had been noticed! Gosh, maybe he was a big movie director, or a producer, or somebody else very important?
His voice came again. "Will you have dinner with me, Miss Francis?"
How could she say no? How could she possibly afford to pass up such a wonderful opportunity? Hiding her excitement as much as she could, she said, "I'll-I'll be very happy to have dinner with you, Mr. ... Mr...?"
"Haynes," he supplemented. "I'll be waiting for you in the lobby at eight."
"But how will I know you?" she asked.
"Don't worry. "I'll know you, my dear," he told her. Then he hung up.
Her body scrubbed and perfumed, her hair meticulously coiffured, and her face artfully made up, even to wearing false eyelashes to make her look older, Carol rode down to the main floor in the elevator. She wanted to be sure that Wally Haynes missed none of her charms, so she wore a semi-formal evening gown that Mr. Lecheur had bought for her to wear when he wanted her to look grown up and particularly sexy. It was a form-fitting gown with which she couldn't wear a bra because it was cut so low, almost down to the start of her areolas. The skirt, too, was scant-cut to leave no doubt as to the shapeliness of her exquisite legs and thighs.
It was the first time that she had worn the gown in public. The first time anyone had seen her in it except Mr. Lecheur. She paused for a moment as she stepped off the elevator, taking a deep breath to ease the nervous flutter of embarrassment as one man nudged another until every male eye in the lobby was looking at her. What surprised her mainly was that she could attract this much attention in a blase town like Hollywood.
She braced herself and started to walk toward the desk. The men followed the movements of her flexing buttocks and the seductive jouncing of her lightly covered breasts with undisguised admiration. The women in the lobby eyed her lovely face and youthful figure with open envy and jealousy.
She didn't get more than halfway to the bar when a short, fat man with a bald head, pig jowls and wearing a white dinner jacket and a red carnation approached her. "Good evening, Miss Francis," he said cordially. "I'm Wally Haynes."
Carol tried to hide her disappointment, because he certainly was nothing like she had imagined that he might be. He looked more like a butcher, or a delicatessen store man back home in Wisconsin, than he did as her conception of a director or a producer. Certainly he wasn't the least bit romantic looking. But then, she wasn't here for romance. She was here to be discovered. She managed to hide her disappointment admirably, smiled and said, "I hope I'm not late?"
"Right on," he replied, his eyeballs looking as if they were going to jump right out of his fat face and roll down her cleavage. "You really are beautiful."
Almost as if he were afraid that the rest of the wolf pack in the lobby might swoop down on her and rob him of his tasty prize, Haynes hurried Carol out of the hotel and into a taxicab. Carol had no idea where he was taking her. But they ended up in a Mexican restaurant, far removed from the high-rent district, complete with dim lights, belly-burning food and warm Tequila.
It wasn't very long before Carol discovered that Wally Haynes was like nobody that she had ever met in West Allis, Milwaukee, Chicago, or any place else. He spoke in high-grade double-talk that left Carol some place out in right field. He kept saying that he had lots of big connections-in the movies, television, in night clubs and that he could get her a job any place that she wanted. He didn't say where, or exactly how this was going to happen. He never once told her whether he was a director, a producer, an agent, a talent scout, or what. Furthermore, he didn't ask her whether she could sing, or dance, or had one ounce of talent. He kept repeating over and over that a gal with her looks didn't have to worry-not with him to guide her.
Carol, in her unworldliness, never even stopped to question him. He was telling her all the beautiful things that she wanted to hear and in her wide-eyed innocence, she had no reason to disbelieve him. Maybe this was the way they did things in Hollywood? Maybe this was the way they happened?
She wouldn't deny that she felt a little uneasy about the way that he kept squeezing her hand, brushing his legs against hers under the table and trying to work the top of her gown down with his eyes. But she did nothing to stop him. After all, if he was going to do so much for her-even if she were a little confused as to precisely what it was that he was going to do-she didn't want to offend him. Besides, by the time that they had consumed a second bottle of Tequila, all her apprehensions had disappeared. She didn't even object too strenously when he slipped a hand under the tablecloth and ran his fingers over the velvety skin of her bare thighs. He might have gone all the way and had himself a feel of her pussy, hadn't the waiter interrupted and placed the bill facedown on the table in front of him. Which was Carol's cue to excuse herself, get up and disappear through a door marked "Senoritas-Senoras." It wasn't until she got inside that Carol realized how groggy she was from all the Tequila that she had consumed. She felt the same way she did the night with Olivia Grant, when she drank all that rum-and-Coke.
The rotund little man named Haynes was waiting for her at the counter in the front of the restaurant when she reappeared. He took her arm and escorted her out the door, where a seedy-looking doorman hailed a taxicab for them.
Carol didn't remember very much about the ride back to the hotel, except, that Haynes put an arm around her and began pawing her, slobbering over her with wet kisses. One of his fat, sweaty hands fumbled its way down inside the decolletage of her gown and found her big, ripe breasts.
"Jeez, kid," he breathed as he squeezed and fondled, first one breast, then the other. "You sure got the tits. How the hell old're you, anyway?"
"Eighteen," she said sort of thick-tongued.
She might have said nineteen or twenty, but even in her half-drunken stupor, she didn't think that he would buy that.
"I figured you were somewhere around there," he said as his fingers tweaked her big nipples and rubbed them to full erection. "You sure are stacked."
Carol was never exactly sure what her feelings were right then, whether she should try to stop his hands on her breasts. She had some slight recollection of shrinking away from him and pushing down on his hand as his seeking fingers slipped up beneath her skirt and invaded her crotch. But she guessed that she didn't struggle nearly hard enough because she felt his hand go under her panties, a rough fat finger invading her slit, digging into her vagina. He probably would have kept poking at her until he brought her to orgasm, had it not been that the ride to the hotel was all too short.
He paid off the driver with fingers wet from her pussy juice and, with an arm around her waist, he guided her through the lobby and into the elevator without causing undue attention. They rode up to the twelfth floor, then he led the way to the door of her room. If she had thought that it was going to be a kiss at the door and then "goodnight," she was sadly mistaken. He opened the door for her and followed her inside.
"I'm-I'm really awfully tired, Mr. Haynes," she said.
He closed the door and locked it after them and said, "Best place for people who are tired is bed. So let's you and me get there."
"But I hardly know you," she protested.
"So we'll start getting acquainted," he told her and, with one arm around her, began pulling at her clothes until all that remained was a small heart-shaped locket on a chain that she got from Mr. Lecheur. Then he pushed her down onto the bed on her back, roughly.
Carol doubted whether she would have been able to get up even if she had tried. The Tequila seemed to have numbed her limbs and body. She didn't even look up at him while he undressed. Instead she threw one arm across her eyes to shield it from the glaring overhead light and lay there motionless, with one leg drawn up at the knee, the other leg stretched out tautly, unmindful that he could see the pink dampness of her pussy. She felt the bed sag as he got on it and knelt between her legs.
He leaned forward and licked over her belly and breasts, then chewed on her nipples. But the Tequila had made her immune to any pain that he might have caused her. Dimly she heard him say, "Spread your legs, kid-nice and wide."
She did better than that. With her hands at the insides of her thighs, just above the knees, she straightened her legs and parted them, holding them up that way, stretched out stiffly to the sides like a human wishbone. Her pink cuntal lips, her shiny wet perineum and her puckered nutmeg of an anus, all --rimmed with fine, silky black hair presented a breath-taking picture that no man could resist. And from the looks of the fat, rigid club of gleaming flesh standing out from his hairy pot belly, there was no question that Wally Haynes was all man!
Carol heard his heavy breathing draw closer as he shoved his heated length into her front hole. She caught her breath and held it as she felt him slide into her easily, the wet, spongy walls of her vagina stretching and molding to the size and shape of his cock like soft, wet putty.
She hadn't stopped to realize that she hadn't been laid since that afternoon when her mother grabbed Mr. Lecheur's balls and yanked his prick out of her pussy. That had happened more than two weeks before. It was the longest that she had gone without getting screwed since that first day that Mr. Lecheur took her cherry. She hadn't been aware that she wanted, needed a cock so much. Might it have been the Tequila that had heated her blood and her brain, made her feel so horny? Or perhaps all the promises that Haynes had made her, had stimulated her to the point where she would do anything he asked, same as she used to do for Mr. Lecheur?
Whatever the reason, Carol was determined to give him a good screw and enjoy it herself as much as she could. To this end, her legs began climbing until they were locked at the ankles behind his backbone. Then she began pounding up at him, matching him thrust for thrust as he slapped his loins against hers. In no time at all, it seemed, she felt his cock start to swell abnormally deep up inside her vagina. His belly quivered, his mouth opened wide to suck in air and his eyes closed tightly. "Ooohhh ... aaahhh," he grunted. "It's here! Oh-fuck it!"
The next moment his whole body jerked, then his cock began to buck violently and he shot his first blast into her. With that first jet of torrid sperm, an uncontrollable chain reaction started simultaneously in Carol's anus and in her stomach. They roared forward like two onrushing locomotives to meet head-on in her vulva. She let out a scream and as his white hot sperm splashed her guts, the cork blew out of her own private world and, as her cunt continued to throb out her orgasm to the beat of his cock, her consciousness was slowly devoured in a burst of hungry flame....
The long days and nights that she had been on the bus from Milwaukee without proper rest, plus the excitement of her first night in Hollywood, proved to be more than Carol's teenage body could endure. She never heard Haynes get off the bed, dress and leave her hotel room. She never even heard the maid who came to make up her bed, banging on the door. She remained dead to the world until long past noon the next day.
When finally she awoke, she had a difficult time separating fact from fancy as far as the night before was concerned. How much of it had really happened and how much of it had she dreamed? Her first indulgence with Tequila had really belted her for a loop and left her with a slight hangover headache. Of course, she remembered having dinner with Wally Haynes and most of the promises that he made. All that was for real. But what happened exactly after they left the restaurant and came back to her room? Did he really lay her? Was she really such a pushover for him? Something must have happened, or else why had she slept in the nude? She had never done that. The bed was soiled, too. The sheets had the same smell of male lust that Mr. Lecheur's sheets used to have after he finished with her. But it wasn't until she got off the bed and started toward the bathroom and she felt the sperm he had left inside her, ooze out of her cunt and down the insides of her thighs, that she knew for sure that it had been no dream. Ordinarily, she might have had cause to worry. But Mr. Lecheur had started her on the Pill shortly after their affair began and she now took them, more or less, as force of habit.
Carol felt a lot better after she had soaked for a while in the tub. Then she dressed and got ready to go to breakfast. She remembered seeing a luncheonette right next door to the hotel. She would have breakfast, or brunch or whatever they were serving now. In fact, she had planned to have dinner there the night before, before Wally Haynes had invited her to dine with him.
Wally Haynes! She didn't want to appear overanxious, or give him the impression that she was going to throw herself at him. He hardly was her type. But all those things that he had promised her-she damn sure didn't want any of those opportunities to slip away. What she would do when she got downstairs was to find out his room number and call him on the house phone, thank him for dinner. But when she got to the desk in the lobby, she was in for something of a mild shock.
"Mr. Haynes?" the desk clerk on duty repeated in answer to her question. "I'm afraid Mr. Haynes is no longer registered here, Miss Francis. He checked out during the night."
Carol swallowed. "Did-did he leave a forwarding address?"
The clerk shook his head. "I'm sorry. He was just a transient; was registered here at the hotel for only one day."
Carol thanked the clerk for the information, then turned and went out through the revolving door. She concealed her shock and disappointment until she got out onto the sidewalk. Then she leaned against the side of the building to steady herself.
Had she ever been taken! Swallowed every lie that Wally Haynes had told her. Gave herself to him for the price of a lousy Mexican dinner that she didn't even enjoy. So this was Hollywood? This was how they did things in the city that she planned to make her home? The place where she expected to make her way, carve her niche? Maybe it was a good thing that it had happened, right away as it did? Next time she would know better. Next time she wouldn't just take somebody's word for anything. She would be on her guard and before she let anybody get into her again, she would make damn sure that she was going to get something in return-something more than a cheap Mexican dinner.