Chapter 9

Roscoe Snyder stood peering through the tall hedge that separated the alley from the parking lot. It was dark and, finally, the light in Vernon Shipley's office went out. Roscoe emitted a little snort of satisfaction. His vigil had been long and he had grown impatient for his target to get within arm's length. In a moment, Vern Shipley would approach his car, and then Roscoe would strike, following Lance Gregory's instructions-leaving his victim battered but alive, writhing in pain but conscious on the asphalt surface of the parking lot.

Roscoe waited-doing a little dance with his feet, and impatiently grinding his fist in his coarse palm. "Argh...Erghmm," he growled.

Finally, two men appeared, exiting from the rear door of the tall building. One of the men was Vern Shipley. Roscoe began thumping his fist hard in his palm, eager to complete his mission. Who was the other man? Roscoe did not know. He hoped the two men did not both come to Vern Shipley's car. He would not know what to do if that happened. No, he had not been instructed to attack two men. He hoped Vern Shipley came to the car alone. "Errr...Arrghh," Roscoe growled.

"Goodnight Stan," Vern called, and the two men parted, each heading in a different direction. "I'm gonna run over to Ellen's now. Haven't seen her in a while. I'd better give her a break."

"Glad to hear that, Vern," Stan said. "Give her my best. She may not be a showpiece, like that Maria, but she's a mighty fine woman."

The man called Stan waved to Vernon Shipley, and then Shipley came closer, closer to his car. Roscoe blinked rapidly, still doing his little prizefighter-like dance, and glanced anxiously at the man called Stan. "Urrr...Erghmmm," Roscoe purred.

Fortunately, Stan's car was much closer to the building exit than Vern's. Stan drove away before Vernon Shipley reached his car. This made Roscoe glad. Yes, it made things simple and he understood simple things. Now he could 'take' his adversary without interference from anyone. Yes, the parking lot was deserted, except for Vernon Shipley and Roscoe Snyder.

Now Vernon reached into his pocket, withdrew his keys and inserted the key into the door lock. Quickly, Roscoe parted the hedge, stepped through and walked briskly and quickly to Vernon Shipley. Vern did not see his assailant. At the instant Roscoe grabbed him, he tried to turn his head but Roscoe clamped his forearm hard about his prey's windpipe, and Vernon Shipley could not even steal a glance at the mountain of muscle that now held him.

Roscoe decided to deliver his message now-before he forgot it or got so excited he said either too much or too little. "Uh-stay away from Maria, or this is just a taste of what's gonna happen to you, buddy," Roscoe muttered.

Vern tried to free himself, but Roscoe just held on harder. Roscoe decided to weaken his victim with steady choking before going to work on him. He pressed his forearm very hard against Vern's throat until he felt Vern's knees beginning to give way. Then, reveling in the gurgling sounds his captive made, Roscoe began the work he loved.

Suddenly he released Vern, but before Vern could turn or even drop to one knee and regain his breath, Roscoe brought his huge forearm down hard against Vern's back, just below the neck. There was a whooshing exhale of air, a muffled groan, and Vern fell face first onto the asphalt.

Roscoe circled his victim, emitting chimpanzee sounds, bobbing his head up and down, and then he reached down and picked Vern up by the lapels of his suit coat.

"Muthah-fuckah," Roscoe growled. "Bastard...Son of a bitch!"

Roscoe hurled Vern hard against his car, then drove a vicious blow to Vern's solar plexus. Vern emitted a pained grunt and Roscoe smiled. He liked this playing "punching bag" with a human being. He loved to beat up "bad" people when he got paid for it. It was new to him, though, this holding back. He was used to striking with all his might.

"Rotten prick!" Roscoe muttered and drove his left fist into Vern's stomach. Roscoe backed up then, shuffled his feet nimbly and dabbed at his nose with his thumbs. "I'm just toyin' with ya, muthah fuckah," he said. "I could take ya easy, but the boss said to take it easy."

Suddenly a memory from long ago entered Roscoe's muddled brain. He heard the crowd cheering, saw the faces at ringside snarling and calling for blood. "Yeah, I could take ya easy, buddy, but the boss said to keep ya on your feet 'til the tenth round."

Roscoe suddenly forgot that Lance Gregory had instructed him to strike only Vern's body. Dancing, he landed two light left jabs to Vern Shipley's face. Vern rolled with the punches, futilely trying to ward off the light blows. A harder one landed on his left cheek, practically spinning him around. He started to sag, but Roscoe caught him under the arms.

Now, momentarily, Roscoe had returned to reality, the present. "You fall and I'll stomp you to death, prick," he said. "Stand up and take it like a man, bastard. You stay on your feet or you'll be sorry, hear?"

Vern nodded, valiantly holding onto the side of his car with his forearms, gripping helplessly at the smooth metal with his fingers.

Roscoe landed two more light jabs, then drove a punishing right fist, with his full weight behind it, into Vern's rib cage. Vern sagged, seeing stars. Roscoe slapped him, warning him again that if he did not stay on his feet he would be "stomped."

Vern widened his stance and held his arms against his ribs to protect himself against the hard blows to his midsection. He lowered his head at the same time and placed his fists at his cheeks. It did no good. Roscoe would drive a hard blow to his waist, dropping Vern's guard, and then he would jab at Vern's cheeks, eyes, chin, forehead. Vern felt blood Welding from several wounds on his face.

Vern did not know how much longer he would be able to hang on. He feared he would lose consciousness and be "stomped," so he concentrated with everything he could muster to remain on his feet while this giant babbled insanely and alternately sent blows to his face and body. After a while, he realized that for some reason his assailant struck his face much more lightly than his body. But this was small consolation and no help, for even the facial blows were drawing blood and snapping his head back. Still, he felt if he could protect his stomach area he might be able to hold on and avoid getting "stomped."

But how would it end? Vern thought, blood clogging his throat. Would this madman suddenly stop and walk away? Or would he finally permit him to come to merciful rest on the asphalt? He did not know, and this not knowing was even more painful, in a way, than was this beating he was taking.

"Almost the tenth round baby," Roscoe grunted, dancing, firing lefts and rights, first high, then low-toying with his soft and helpless opponent. "Hey, baby, you're outta shape. You're nothin' but a pussycat. Shit, I could drop you anytime I want, but the boss says to keep you on your feet 'til the tenth."

Roscoe actually heard his seconds calling from his corner now. The sights and sounds of the arena he had known so well were all there as he played cat-and-mouse with this pushover opponent.

Roscoe stopped dancing for a moment. Vern's mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out. Roscoe leaned forward to hear whatever plea for mercy his enemy was uttering.

"Please...please," the voice managed to whisper. "I-I won't s-see Maria again."

"Damn right you won't, bastard," Roscoe spat, and slapped his opponent hard. Once again he had returned briefly to the now.

Vern Shipley gestured for Roscoe to come closer. His lips were moving, but Roscoe could not hear. Roscoe leaned close, grinning evilly, loving the helplessness of his victim. "What, bastard, what?"

And then, suddenly, with all the energy left to him, Vern brought up his knee to Roscoe's crotch. Even as his kneecap landed Vern knew he had missed the mark. Unfortunately, the blow landed to the right of the giant's testicles-caught him on the upper leg.

Roscoe growled loudly, more angered by the blow than hurt. "So you had to play cute, eh? You had to play games with Roscoe, didn't you? Well, muthah-fuckah, now the tenth round is here. Big Roscoe's gonna deck you!"

The rain of body blows came hard and fast now. Vern felt himself blacking out. He wondered if his ribs were cracked. He couldn't tell. For some insane reason, he found himself thinking that he couldn't make love to Maria if his ribs were cracked. That seemed to be his main concern as his head snapped from side to side from the big fists and his intestines cramped with each blow.

And then he didn't feel anything...he didn't care if he fell or not...he knew he was slipping into , unconsciousness, but he didn't care...couldn't care...couldn't help it if he got stomped or not....

Roscoe stared down at his fallen opponent. There was no bell ending the tenth round and for a moment this confused him. In a moment, he returned quietly to the present. He glanced furtively about, but nobody was in sight. He nudged the unconscious figure on the asphalt with the toe of his shoe, but there was no response. He hoped he hadn't gone too far. Kneeling, he placed his hairy ear against Vern Shipley's chest. He smiled. There was a heartbeat.

Vern Shipley's keys were still in the door. Roscoe opened the door, then lifted Vern up and tossed him in the front seat. He put the keys in the ignition, closed the door and left.

He felt good-triumphant-as he drove slowly down

Wilshire Boulevard. But something was missing. There was no immediate reward-nobody to congratulate him or pat him on the back. He remembered Vern's telling the man called Stan that he was going to "Ellen's house." He remembered that one of the names on the slip of paper Lance Gregory had given him read "Ellen Lanning." His instructions had been to attack Vernon Shipley either at his office or, near Ellen Lanning's place.

Grinning, he knew not quite why, Roscoe pulled into a service station and went to the nearby telephone booth. Information gave him Ellen Lanning's number. He dialed the number, it rang twice, and a female voice said, "Hello?"

"H-Hi," Roscoe said. "Your friend, Vernon Shipley? Well, he won't be able to make it tonight," Roscoe said, giggling.

"Who is this?" the woman said. "Why won't Vern be here?"

"He had a little accident," Roscoe said, barely able to speak he laughed so hard. "Uh-maybe he will make it, though. Later, I mean. He told me to tell you he'll be late. Maria, will you please be quiet!" Roscoe called, raising his face slightly from the telephone mouthpiece. "Shut up, Maria!"

Roscoe reminded himself of clever people on television and in the movies at this moment. He was really being funny, really clever. He had never imagined he could be so clever as to play such a funny trick on anybody.

"Who is this?" the woman called Ellen said firmly. "I demand to know. Who is this-this Maria? What's happened to Vernon?"

Doubling up with laughter, Roscoe hung up and staggered to his car. He sat behind the wheel giggling for several minutes before his very slow-working brain dictated his next course of action. Go and see the woman, his brain said. See the woman of the man you just beat up. You were the winner...more man than him. At least go and spy on her.

Roscoe nodded, guffawing as he pulled his car out of the service station. Ten minutes later, he found the big, expensive-looking condominium building on Wilshire Boulevard. He went inside and found Ellen Lanning's name on one of the mail boxes. Then he went to her floor on the elevator, got out and walked down the hall.

Standing before her door, he started to knock, then changed his mind. There was a fire escape door just a few doors away. He went to the fire escape door, opened it and stepped out onto a kind of terrace. Directly next to him was the terrace to Ellen Lanning's apartment. The drapes were partly open. Leaning over the waist-high wall, he found he could look directly into Ellen Lanning's living room. Suddenly his heart caught in his throat as he sighted Ellen, naked and staring into the huge mirror above the dining room table. She cupped her breasts, gazing seductively into her reflection. Then, apparently upset or angry, she went to her telephone and called someone named Marg.

To Marg, Ellen revealed that she was very upset because Vern was going to be late. She told Marg that some idiot had telephoned her to say Vern would be late. "And after I planned this evening so carefully," she said, exasperated. "Vern hasn't seen me since I lost weight, and I wanted this to be a honeymoon sort of night together for us."

Ellen listened for a while, then said: "Yes, I suppose you're right. I-I'll just have to wait until he arrives-no matter when that isl What choice do I have?"

Angry, sighing, Ellen hung up the phone then. She resumed the admiring of her naked body in the mirror, fondling her large breasts, running her hand flut-teringly over her tummy,, buttocks, inner thighs.

Roscoe began to breathe very hard, and his prick rose and pressed hard against the wall. This Ellen was a little chubby, despite the fact she'd lost weight, but she looked very good to Roscoe. You destroyed her man, his brain said. She's your woman, Roscoe. You're the champ and she's your woman.

Roscoe began massaging his aching hard-on with his hand as he stared at the naked Ellen cavorting before the mirror.

"How do you like your sweetheart?" Ellen said to herself. "Vernon, I lost weight just for you, darling. Now you'll love fucking your sweetheart more than ever!"

"Fuck Vernon!" Roscoe snarled. "I beat him...I beat him!"

Roscoe was just about to go back inside and down the hall to Ellen's apartment when there came a knock at Ellen's door. Roscoe cursed the intruder, whoever it was. He had decided to boldly knock on Ellen's door himself, and now someone had cheated him of this woman. "Muthah fuckah," Roscoe muttered quietly, his eyes narrowed as he waited to see who the intruder might be. It could not be Vern Shipley, he told himself. Or could it? No, after the beating he'd given Vern, the man couldn't possibly have driven to Ellen's so soon.

Ellen went quickly to the door, still naked! Obviously, she had expected Vernon Shipley, for she flung the door open wide and cried, "Darling!"

She shrank then, covering her bare breasts with her arms and closing the door to just an open crack. Then, reluctantly, after a brief conversation, she let the party in and ran quickly to her robe.

The visitor was Maria Reese! Roscoe's hard-on instantly dwindled away to nothing. What was Maria Reese doing here? he wondered. As far as he knew, Maria and Ellen had never met!

This turned out to be true, for Maria Reese then introduced herself as Vern Shipley's girlfriend. In her robe now, Ellen Lanning answered, "That's odd. You see, I'm Vern's girlfriend."

Maria merely laughed, making herself comfortable on the couch, and the two women began verbally gouging at each other. Roscoe frowned, trying to understand their conversation. It was almost as if the two women were speaking in a foreign language he did not understand. They were smiling at each other, but they seemed to be arguing, and yet they weren't arguing...it was all very confusing to Roscoe. Sarcasm? He wasn't sure.

And then a strange thing happened. Suddenly Ellen burst into tears and cried, "I-I knew there had to be another woman, but-but I didn't think you'd be so beautiful!"

Ellen's robe parted, revealing her bountiful, bare breasts. Roscoe swallowed, feasting his eyes on Ellen's beauties, and then to his amazement, Maria rose and went over and sat down beside Ellen. "Now, now," Maria said. "I'm not all that beautiful, dear. Vern is a man, after all. We must remember that And you know how men are. They-they seem to need more than one woman. You're a very attractive woman, Ellen. I thought so that first night I saw you at the Mediterranean Restaurant remember?"

Ellen nodded. "Yes, that's right. I do remember. I thought I'd seen you somewhere before."

Ellen continued whimpering, the tears flowing down her cheeks. Roscoe was surprised to see Maria begin massaging Ellen's back and actually kissing her cheekl They conversed very softly as Maria continued caressing Ellen, and suddenly Maria had her hand on Ellen's bare breasts.

"You're very lovely, dear," Maria was saying. "I can't imagine why Vern would ever go looking for another female if he already had you. Ummm, you're very smooth, my dear. Yes, and you have lovely nipples."

Ellen was gasping now as she permitted herself to be laid out on the couch. Maria stretched out beside her, quickly baring her own breasts, and then the two women were rubbing their breasts together and kissing.

Roscoe could not believe his eyes. What would his boss say if he knew his girlfriend was queer? Roscoe had once seen a movie in which two women made love, but he thought girls only did that to please certain freaky men. He did not believe women really did that sort of thing. But they were doing it all right Once again, Roscoe found his prick standing out straight-throbbing, pulsing, fully aroused. He felt repulsed, shocked, but for some reason the two girls' playing with each other's tits and kissing each other had him wanting to burst into the room, announce he was their savior, and fuck both of them.

"Ohhhhh," Ellen was sighing loudly now, "Maria, Maria, Maria...you seem to know just where to touch! You-you're so beautiful, too. I never thought I would touch any woman much less such a-a perfect example of femininity. Your breasts are-are simply purr-fect!"

"Yes, dear," Maria replied, "they are! Go ahead and play with them. You see, there's a little bit of-of lesbian in all of us, isn't there? Don't fight it, dear. Give vent to all your natural feelings. You may do whatever you want with my body. Satisfy your innermost desires, my love."

"We've had the same man, Maria," Ellen sighed, nuzzling her gulping mouth at Maria's perfect boobs. "Now we have each other!"

"Go ahead and nurse on them," Maria said. "You know you want to, so why fight it. Go ahead, hon."

While Ellen drew each of Maria's huge nipples alternately into her mouth and sucked hard, Maria briskly massaged Ellen's extended nipples and began fingering her silken nest. Suddenly, Ellen spread her legs wide to give Maria's lower hand total access. "Finger my cunt!" she begged. "Oh, yessss...finger fuck me...you're so beautiful, Maria! I feel I want to do everything to your body. I never felt this way with a woman before."

"Perfectly natural, dear," Maria said. "Keep sucking on my titties while I work my finger inside that juicy puss. Ummm, nice, eh?"

"Yesssssss," Ellen replied. "It's as good as anything I-I ever experienced." And then she broke off and resumed gobbling on Maria's tits.

Slowly, reluctantly, Ellen then let her hand run up Maria's shapely leg to her cunt. "I have to finger you, too!" she cried.

Maria cut her off, returning her mouth to her heaving bosom. "Just keep sucking!" Maria commanded firmly. "Of course, you'll finger my pussy. Why not? The idea is to take each other to paradise."

Now Maria's finger was working very rapidly against Ellen's clitoris, and Ellen was lifting her buttocks high off the cushions of the couch, thrusting fiercely to increase the friction between her dripping pussy and Maria's skilled fingers. Ellen's hand began working harder against Maria's pussy, too, and both women groaned and sighed ecstatically.

Roscoe could restrain himself no longer. He reached for the top of his zipper, opened his fly and let his dribbling erection flop free. Slowly, he began masturbating as he feasted his eyes on the strangest sex scene he had ever witnessed. And then, what had first disappointed him, fascinated him immensely. Ellen suddenly hurled Maria from the couch onto the floor. "Lesbian bitch!" Ellen screamed. She jumped up and began pacing the floor, her hair in her hands, nostrils flared, looking more guilty than angry. "Oh, God, what were we doing? It's Vern I want...I want Vern, not you!"

"Bullshit!" Maria spat. "You love what we were doing. Come on, don't ruin this chance of a lifetime to find out what les love is really like, baby!"

Maria advanced on Ellen, but Ellen shoved her away. "No, no-I kept thinking of Vern, kept wanting to fondle his beautiful prick. You can't fuck me, Maria. Only a man can do that. True, you have beautiful breasts-a beautiful body-but you don't have a prick! I need a man with a prick to make me happy. No amount of skillful manipulation can replace the strong hip thrusts of a male-Vern's hip thrusts. Now get out!"

Ellen held her face in her hands, sobbing, while Maria laughed mockingly, "Oh, brother," Maria drawled. "Now I've heard everything. Dear, all you have is a case of sorority house guilt. Don't worry, the urge will return. You've had a taste of woman's love and you'll never be able to forget it. My name's in the book. Yes, perhaps when you haven't had any sex for a while-because Vern will be fucking me-you'll change your tune." Maria turned to leave then. She paused at the door, straightening her clothing. "And don't bother to tell Vern about this. He'll never believe you, and I'll simply deny the entire scene."

Roscoe suddenly knew what he would do the instant Maria had departed. He would rape Ellen! Yes, she had been aroused to a fever pitch by that pervert, Maria. And she had screamed her need for a man. Well, Vern was lying half-unconscious in the front seat of his car. He, Roscoe, had been the victor, and so he would fuck Ellen. She would be his prize. Roscoe's prick pulsed in his hand as he waited for Maria to leave. Fuck Ellen, he thought. Gonna stick my winners prick right between-her legs.

"Get out!" Ellen screamed. "You-you pervert! Get out! Get out this minute!"

Maria simply smirked and slowly closed the door behind her.

Roscoe waited until he was certain Maria had left the hallway, and then he slipped his prick back inside his pants and stuffed it up under his belt so it wouldn't show. He knocked lightly on Ellen's door. No answer. Roscoe scowled and thought: She probably thinks it's Maria coming back to eat her box. He knocked again, and then he rang the doorbell.

At last the door opened a crack. Instantly, giving Ellen no time to recognize him or slam the door shut, Roscoe gave a mighty shoulder shove and forced the door open. Ellen fell backward onto the floor, screaming.

Roscoe clamped his hand over her mouth and let his full weight press upon her. It had all happened so fast he was certain she had not observed his face. Now he held her naked body in his hands, and he buried his snout in the valley of her tits and gulped greedily while he pried her legs apart with his knee.

"You said you wanted a man," Roscoe muttered. "I heard you. Well, I'm a man, and I'm gonna give you that big prick you were talking about. Now stop fighting me and let's fuck."

Roscoe could not understand why a woman would reject a woman, then, excited sexually, turn down a man with a hard-on.

"Stop it, you-you stupid animal!" Ellen cried, raking his face with her fingernails. "You'll go to prison for this. Stop it! Get out!"

Roscoe lay between her spread legs now, and he began forcing his prick into Ellen's juicy cunt. Why was she fighting him? He could not understand it. "Better relax, sugar," he panted. "I'm gonna stick this thing inside that hot cunt of yours. I been watchin' you and that Maria and I never been so hot before. You want my stiff pecker, so relax and enjoy it. Fuck, yeah...fuck...fuck."

Suddenly Roscoe felt Ellen cease struggling. She lay limp, overpowered, and she permitted him to spread her legs still farther apart. "You win," she said, sobbing but resigned. "You're right. I can't fight you, but would you please make it fast? I assure you I shan't enjoy this."

"Oh, yeah?" Roscoe said. "We'll see. You said you wanted a man's prick-well, here it is!"

As he drove his engorged rod into the depths of this woman pinned to the carpet, Roscoe tugged at her ass hard. She emitted a sharp cry of pain, but after steady coaxing with his hand on her smooth ass, she fell into a steady rhythm.

"You stupid animal," she said, but then, as he speared her and bent his head down to lap at her erect nipples as he screwed, her voice changed. She still said, "Animal...Animal," but the words became a song, a breathy chant that coaxed and teased and pleaded for more and harder thrusts. Finally, Ellen was raising her ass high off the floor and crying, "Fuck me, you goddam animal! Ohhhh, fuck me with that animal prick of yours!"

Roscoe gave her everything he had, slamming their pelvises hard together, gouging at her ass that was wet with cunt-lubricant.

"Fuck me, you goddam rapist animal!" Ellen cried again and again.

Roscoe wasn't sure he liked being called a rapist animal, but there was no time for anger now. No, the pussy he now fucked felt too hot and too good. "Anhh...argh...ough...anng," Ellen was grunting as she rose her ass high to take all of his flesh spear she could get. Her nails dug hard into his back, but Roscoe didn't care. He liked the feeling. It meant he was driving this pussy crazy...fucking this cunt better than any man ever had probably....

Roscoe saw victory as he fucked. He saw crowds cheering him just as they had during his prizefighting days. He was a man again, the victor, the triumphant fucking-male-king-champion he had always wanted to be.

"Fuck me, you goddam rapist animal," Ellen was still grunting through clenched teeth.

And then Roscoe decided to give her more. What he had been doing wasn't enough, no. This woman wanted more. He decided to fuck her in the ass. He had never done that before, but he wanted to maybe fuck her in a way Vernon Shipley hadn't fucked her. He withdrew his big shaft, flopped her over on her stomach and began stuffing his organ in her rectum. He expected her to cry out, to protest, but instead she simply said: "Wonderful! How could you know I wanted it this way? Yes, yes! Fuck my ass-hole, you rapist madman! Fuck me just the way Vern does! But you have to rub my clit at the same time. Here, I'll slide up on my hands and knees so you can reach my love nub nice and easy. Ohhh, yesss, right there...just like that...Ummmmm...."

Suddenly Roscoe no longer felt like the triumphant animal. This woman was telling him exactly how to make love to her-telling him to make love to her the way Vernon Shipley made love to her! Although he was furious, he nevertheless continued to rub Ellen's clitoris as he slammed his hard-on as hard as he could into her rectum.

Try as he might, he could not hurt her. She loved every mighty thrust of his weapon. He removed his finger from her clit and held her hips in both his hands, then slammed his prick at her from all directions. Still she sighed and wailed about how good it felt! She didn't even complain about his stopping the stimulation of her clit. What kind of woman was this Ellen?

"I'm coming!" Ellen cried. "I'm having my special rear-door kind of come. Ohhhhh, it's sooo beau-teeefulll! Don't stop! Fuck harder...harder!"

Roscoe wanted to stop at that moment. He wanted to deprive her of the orgasm she threatened to have. But he could not, for he was coming now himself. Tingles ran up and down his spine, his muscles were spasming, twitching. He stared down at his prick entering and exiting the round, slightly chubby ass, and then his load went flying. He hoped, in a way, that he had cheated this Ellen out of her orgasm. But just as he came, Ellen screamed and began rolling her head crazily round and round.

She had come, damn her. He had fucked her, but it had been Vern Shipley she had wanted all along. He let his full weight he on her until he had regained his breath. Then he bit her hard on the shoulder, slapped her and stood up to leave.

"Don't look at me, bitch," he said. "Don't you dare look back at me or try to call for help while I'm leaving. I-I'll kill you if you do. I'll kill you and that mo-thah-fuckah, Vernon Shipley."

Roscoe Snyder pulled his pants up, straightened himself up and quickly departed.