Chapter 12

Uncle Ben raged at Myra for her desertion he could spare Connie who had been only. a convenience, but Myra was something else. "Ungrateful girl! Took her in, didn't I, when she didn't have anywhere to lay her head! Ungrateful child! Oh, sharper than a serpent's tooth . . . " He lost track of the half-remembered quotation. "Gonna set the po-leece on her, drag her back."

"The po-leece?" Aunt Louisa asked in her tired voice, privately gloating. The child was well out of this hell-hole, wherever she was. "Want 'em askin' questions? Like why she run away when she had money? And what become of the money? Po-leece ask them sort of questions? Awful curious, the po-leece. Especial about runaways. You gonna tell 'em how you screwed her both ways? Out'n her body and out'n her money."

Uncle Ben blustered. "I was aimin', to pay it back. Just borrowed it, like. For the truck. So's I could make me some money and feed this yere family. "Made two whole dollars last week, hauling a refrigerator. "Takes time gittin' a business started, don't it? Kain't expect nothin' overnight. Gotta build up gradual. Gotta look for customers, don't I?

"Like treatin' to beer them bums you know. Lotta customers they are. And outa what's left of Myra's money, too. 'Cause you ain't got any other."

Uncle Ben paused, considering. "Mebbe I better not git the po-leece. Where you reckon them kids 'ud be ? "

Aunt Louisa sighed. "Out screwing somewheres. Onliest thing they knows."

Uncle Ben swallowed bitter gall, visualizing Myra screwing some man and liking it. He growled again, "Ungrateful kid."

And the incessant wrangle went on and would continue.

Myra did well in her new profession as nymphet prostitute, partly because Skibo did a good recruiting job on prospects for her but largely because of her youth and freshness, a freshness she retained because she could turn herself off and let her slim, treacherous body take over, while she counted up the additions to her hoard and dreamed of her "Escape Hatch."

The regimen was too much for Connie and she slipped away, offering her overblown charms on the street. Her first takers were her last, a carload of boys high on dope. On a mountain curve the car spun out and crashed, a flaming wreck. There wasn't enough left of her to identify, and the county buried the charred remains.

So Myra didn't know. Nor did she grieve at her going, though she missed her cheerful casualness for a while. Skibo screwed Myra occasionally and paid his five dollars scrupulously though her price, to the house, had risen to twenty as a sort of ironic jest, since he wasn't required to pay at all. He rather liked Myra's solemn acceptance of his money and the feeling that he had bought that slim, developing body. Even so he sensed that he had not really touched Myra at all.

That almost complete withdrawal was the secret of Myra's increasing success as a whore. Myra was not aware of bow little of herself she gave, immersing herself each time in endless silent prayer to Mommie, hiding herself in that dream of the "Escape Hatch." Her slim, eager little body took over, giving each man full measure of excitement, of sexual thrills, participating with him completely, even devising, out of unconscious female knowledge built into her exciting little body, new yet age-old methods of providing sexual gratification. For the man and for her own body.

Myra was not for everybody. Even the Madam, accustomed to the casual assignment of men to her different girls, recognized Myra's special quality and was acutely aware of. her youth. So Myra's. lovers were carefully picked. She did not parade with the other girls before the customers. Only those screened by Skibo and later by the Madam when she learned about Myra's special quality were assigned to her. This had a practical side, too. Myra was too young, too perceptibly young, to be offered indiscriminately, where casual comments or male braggadocio might get to official ears and lead to a raid, though, of course, the house paid ample protection for its normal business.

Myra's tenth, or perhaps eleventh, customer she had lost track somewhere was an astonishment to her, a complete innovation. Madam had come to her, saying she really didn't have to take this guy on. "He's an old duck, sweetie, but he pays well. Very well. And he's heard of you. So he'll pay extra. You'll get an extra five dollars if you want to take him on. He likes it sixty-nine," assuming Myra understood.

Myra was bewildered. Fucking was fucking, wasn't it? Skibo had taught her the interesting Oddity of screwing in a chair. There were other ways? It didn't matter. And that would be five dollars more toward the "Escape Hatch." So she nodded.

To Myra her new customer seemed incredibly old, though John Smathers was just over fifty, a dapper little man who eyed Myra appreciatively when he came into her room. He was a neat, precise man with a small nervous tic that was scarcely noticeable since a quick, flashing smile covered it well.

"You're quite lovely, my dear.. And very young. Deliciously young." He rubbed at his smile, licking very pink lips behind his hand. "You do know soixante-neuf?"

Myra smiled nervously, started to nod and then shook her head. "It's something special?"

For a moment he looked disconcerted and then nodded. "Very special. Very. I'll teach it to you." He smiled nervously at her. "You don't mind sucking?"

Myra was completely bewildered. "Sucking? Is that fucking?"

"In a way, my dear. In a very delightful way. At least, I find it so. I think you will."

Myra lowered her head, nodding. "Okay. If you say so." She raised long-lashed eyes to his, her mouth trembling just slightly. "How?" She wouldn't mind. She could, withdraw from her body, contemplating the future and the "Escape Hatch," and mentally adding five dollars to the hoard. "You want me nekkid ? "

Breathing deeply, as if he had made a plunging dive and come up, John Smathers nodded. "Oh, assuredly. Assuredly." As Myra peeled out of her dress and stood naked before him he caught his breath. "Lovely! Lovely ! " He fumbled with his tie, yanking it down. "In a moment. A moment."

He was meticulous, laying out his trousers, hanging tie, coat, and shirt on the rack, stepping out of his underpants with his back to her. He turned to face her, and Myra saw his pecker. It wasn't as big as Joe's. Not really big at all, though it was already trembling into erection.

Myra could feel the treachery in her body, heat rising in response to just looking just knowing that it would soon be answering the thrust of that pecker, reacting in its own special way within itself. She moved toward him slowly, a trifle uncertain.

He caught her and held her off, his eyes roving over her body, making her hot, her body already preparing itself. For what? Something different.

"God, you're a beautiful little thing! Beautiful! Pure nymph! A youthful Aphrodite! A young, slim Venus ! " He sighed,, sliding his hands down her slender arms, drawing her toward a chair. "So unsullied! I bad no idea! Even though I was told . . . " He sat up abruptly, pulling her across his lap.

She lay against him, one fresh young breast pressed against him. Slowly her head went down, resting against his shoulder. Young eyes looked up at him. "I know how to do it in a chair. Is that what you said?"

"Not quite, my dear. Not quite. Let's just play for a moment. You're so lovely. Your breasts . . . " He reached out and cupped one in his hand, sending the familiar tingle through her, starting the fires that would build to delightful tensions and release. One hand wandered delicately down her back, reaching her small, pink rump and playing there, sliding over the small buttocks as if smoothing them for the moment to come. And she breathed deeply, expanding her chest, making her titties stand up. Already the nipples were coming erect, stiff, their amber-pink knobs quivering. His other hand touched her nipples, caressing them, moving a flat palm over them, rotary fashion, until they stood stiff and firm.

He bent and kissed one, sucking it in and out with his lips, and Myra moaned, writhing with the excitement it engendered in her body. And all the while one hand cupped her little cunt, a finger tapping against its lips, feeling and caressing. Occasionally it wandered off to stroke the inner sides of her thighs until her legs fell weakly open, giving him free range of her little cunt.

Myra was just beginning her familiar ritual of a prayer to Mommie, a promise for the "Escape Hatch," when she caught his words, jerking her head up.

"Darling, do you think you could suck me off? Take my thing in your mouth? And I will go into your little box with my tongue. It's very, very exciting. More even than fucking in many ways."

Myra slid her small rump cautiously side and stared down as his pecker, stiff, shivering with desire. "I never . . . " She looked up at him, wide-eyed, curious. "Is that good?"

"Very. And very exciting, my child. Very exciting." He licked excessively pink lips, staring down at her box. "Very exciting, I assure you."

Myra stared down at his bulb and shaft, shaking her head. And then back, her eyes searching his face. "How? Just bend down and suck?" It was a completely new concept to Myra, as new as sex had been to her only months before, when Lem had taken her. "Will it hurt?"

"Not a bit. Just like sucking on a stick of candy. Only more delicious. Far more delicious. And my tongue in your box, lapping up your juices." He wiped at the sudden sweat oh his forehead with the back of his hand. "Pure ecstasy. Pure, unadulterated ecstasy."

Myra saw refusal would snatch away the ten dollars already earmarked for the "Escape Hatch" and probably bring down the scorn of the Madam, who had a whiplash tongue. But take that big, shaft in her mouth? Even with her body already triggered to response, waiting for climax, she hesitated, troubled, and then nodded. "But, how?"

"I'll show you." He scooped her up eagerly and carried her to the bed, laying her crosswise, her head almost hanging off the edge. "I'll start, darling. And when you make up your mind, take my thing and put it in your mouth. And suck on it. Just like a stick of candy."

He bent over her, spreading her legs, and slid his mouth down over her cunt, licking its moistened lips, thrusting with his tongue.

Myra shivered, feeling the new heat running through her loins, spreading down her legs and up into her belly, and under her breasts. Her body writhed with the excitement churning in it, and she whimpered. Skibo had touched his mouth and tongue to her cunt, but only briefly, only as a preliminary to something else. This was deep, full, rich. Without her even knowing, her body was giving the man new flows of juices, rich and creamy. And her body ached for something else, for something additional that would complete the excitement, fulfill the demands of her body.

John Smathers raised his small, elegant head, speaking hoarsely, urgently. "Stick it in your mouth. Hurry . . . "

Myra opened her eyes and saw his pecker hanging just above, her. It looked enormous. And the bulb was gleaming with juices, one clear, glistening tear of juice on the tip trembling, ready to drop. After Uncle Ben's obscenities this was not shocking, this shaft hanging and vibrating above her. It was just unusual. She reached one hand for it tentatively, opening her mouth, sticking out her tongue to touch that dangling drop.

It tasted funny. Salty, faintly ammoniac. But good. As she held his prick, guiding it into her mouth, he rammed down, crowding the bulb and half the shaft into her. She gulped frantically and it slid down her throat, moving in and partly out as he worked his pelvis. And her pelvis, without conscious volition, tilted up, giving him freer access to her cunt, where juices were flowing. And her body could feel him suck far up that tunnel where usually a prick got rammed, causing the wild excitement her body had known so often.

Her throat was responding, gulping at his prick, giving it an unconscious massage, even though she seemed to be choking, desperate for air. She pushed both hands at his hips and he slid out, letting her gulp air, and then rammed it back, deeper this time, working it in and out along the gulping sides of her throat.

Her body was ready, tension at its peak and it exploded in a flood of juices far up her tunnel. His bulb pulsed and throbbed and then shot a great load of creamy stuff into her throat. Her throat constricted, taking it, swallowing it, hot and salty. His prick deflated, sliding slowly out of her mouth, crammed now with his juice. She swallowed, tasting it again, her throat savoring it.

For a long moment he continued to lap at her juices, running his tongue far up her cunt, licking at the lips. Her small body shivered with the excitement it generated, prolonging the final explosion.

Then it was over. With a sigh he rolled to one side, gulping air, trembling with his own excitement. He seemed to speak to the ceiling, as if he were unable to raise his head. "You were marvelous, my dear. Simply marvelous. That was perfect. Absolute perfection."

She lay there, her body weak, her head dangling from the edge of the bed, still tasting his come, swallowing and licking her smeared lips. She hadn't even had time for her usual prayer to Mommie. She spoke silently now. "Mommie, it was for the 'Escape Hatch' and I didn't mind. It was five dollars more toward the 'Escape Hatch.' And I didn't really mind."

He stood up, moving wearily, holding onto the bed post. "I'll get a wash rag . . . " and wavered to her wash basin. He came back in a moment, steadier, jauntier, a wet rag in his hand. He raised her head and wiped gently around her mouth. "You are a beautiful child. And so wonderful to be with. So unique. So fresh."

His eyes caressed her body which responded with faint shivers. He touched her breasts, passing a cupped hand over them. "I wish I could have you always. With me all the time. All the time."

Myra smiled shyly at him, not trying to cover her nakedness, not pushing his hands from her breasts. "You're nice. I like you."

He drew a deep breath, inflating a narrow chest. "May I come back? And we'll do this again."

Myra frowned slightly. "Sure. But it costs more. Wouldn't you just like to screw?"

John Smathers shook his head, smiling a little crookedly. "No, child. I like this way best. And I don't mind the expense. It was worth it. Well worth it."

Several times he interrupted his dressing to come back and put an arm around her as she sat, still naked, still a little dazed. "You are perfection, child. A woman, yet still a child, beautiful, young, vibrant. Would God you could always remain like this."

Then be went away, leaving the taste of him in her throat as she sat pondering this curious new form of sex, thinking that if he did come back often the "Escape Hatch" hoard would grow faster.