Chapter 9
Marty's hand trembled as she dialed Ray's number. When she heard his voice, she babbled a stream of words which made little sense to him. He finally calmed her a bit and told her to make sense. Marty was beginning to be a problem. She was a good fuck, and a pleasant pastime, but she panicked too easily. She came apart at the seams, and this could be dangerous. He mentally promised himself that he'd take steps to clear up this situation soon—as soon as he got this goddamned blackmail thing out of the way.
"The picture—" Marty was saying. "The one last night. Bill Brady, the English teacher, has it. He sent me a note. He wants his Phi Beta Kappa key back, then he'll give me the picture."
"Well give him his goddamned key, then!" Ray shouted. "What's stopping you? You know we can't afford to have anybody see the picture!"
"But he knows!" Mary blurted.
"Knows what, for Christ's sake—that we were fucking?"
"No, no," Marty gasped, growing more confused by Ray's sudden sharpness. "He knows that the man in the picture is you, and that you're my uncle!"
Ray was stunned, and for a moment, only the humming of the current on the line was to be heard. He wondered how the damned teacher had found that out, but there was no time for thinking now. He had to act. He had to work it out so that the sonofabitch wouldn't use his information, once the photo was safely in his or Marty's possession. He cursed her silently. Damned dumb little bastard, getting tangled up with men and then taking things from them, just to show off for her own ego how many men she had had at her feet, or waiting at her cunt's door was more like it.
Into the mouthpiece he said, "All right. Don't panic. Get the key and I'll talk to you after school about how we'll make sure he keeps his mouth shut about this thing. I'll pick you up after school and we'll work something out." He hung up, his mind busy with the problem.
Marty stood looking dumbly at the phone as the line went dead. She was afraid before, but now she was even more in dread. She felt as if she had been deserted. Something in Ray's voice had been different. He had been angry and disturbed, but more than that, Marty had detected an iciness in his voice. She wondered if he really cared for her, or if they had just played around so much that the novelty had worn off for him. She couldn't figure out why, for he had seemed his usual loving, passionate self the night before.
Ray's thoughts were flying along the same route. He realized he had been curt, almost rude, to Marty, and he hadn't meant to be. She was just a kid, entering her first bind, and it was only natural she would be scared and turn to him. But he wondered about that Brady bastard, and just how far he would go. And, vaguely, in the back of his mind, there was the remembrance of Helen—his hot, new, interesting Helen of the night before.
In a sense, Ray was putting them all on the scales of his judgment, wondering which was most important to him. He hated to admit it, but at the moment, it was Ray that was important. He didn't want his life upset by all these dirty situations, all for a good piece of ass—and especially since he had discovered a new woman in bed with him—the new Helen.
Marty was in a daze for the balance of the day, dreading the coming scene with Bill Brady. He had been foul mouthed and nasty—so unlike himself—that for once she began to doubt her ability to get through to him and take command. She had never thought that damned gewgaw, the key, could be so important to him. He had tried many times at school to talk to her about it, but she had always ignored him or laughed at him, saying it had been a gift, and that she felt she deserved it.
Now the problem had to be faced, and she wasn't even sure she could go through with it. And Ray's coldness had only undermined her confidence more. He hadn't even been concerned with Marty's loss of face, with the puncturing of her pride that giving the key back would cause. She wondered if she still had that same allure with Ray. She was certain she wouldn't be able to work it on Bill Brady that evening, and she became more concerned with Ray than with anything else. She couldn't lose him! She really did love him. The world would come crashing down on her shoulders, if Ray ever gave her the brush-off.
She was exhausted emotionally when he picked her up after school. She climbed into the car beside him and they stared at each other, almost as if they were seeing one another for the first time as they really were.
"How the hell did he find out I was your uncle?" Ray blurted out suddenly, looking grim.
"I don't know, but he knows. He said so."
"Did he say he wanted money, or anything from me?"
Marty shook her head. She was close to tears. It seemed that Ray was thinking only of himself, and not of the humiliation Bill had heaped on her. He wasn't caring at all what it would do to her to have to surrender the key to him, just to get a silly picture back. She bridled inside, wishing she had the courage to tell Brady to go ahead and use the picture of her and Ray, fucking dog fashion. After all, she wasn't ashamed of it!
"Well, here's what we'll do. I looked up his address on my records. I've done work on his car. You get that damned key and give it to me when we get home, and don't let Helen see you do it. I'll take it over tonight, and get this straightened out. That's the best way. You stay out of it. He won't be so cocky if he's talking to a man, and I'll make certain that there are no more copies of the picture around, and I'll get the negative."
"He said it was a Polaroid shot," Marty interjected.
"So much the better, but I'll handle this Brady character—my way."
Marty looked sharply at him, wondering what he meant. Was he saying that he was sure she would fail, because she no longer had sexual power over Brady? He couldn't know that. She was imagining things. It was best if he handled the ugly part of the situation—the confrontation for the picture.
Marty leaned close and put her hand on his thigh, running the other up and down the back of his neck. "Oh, Ray, I love you so much," she moaned. "I'm sorry I got us into this mess, but I'll make it up to you. Just love me." Her eyes brightened and she said breathlessly, "Can we go somewhere now and have each other? I need you so. I need to know that you still love me."
Ray moved his head so her hand fell away and shot a harsh glance at her face. "Are you nuts? Is that all you ever think of—fucking? Good God, Marty, we could be in all kinds of trouble, and you seem to think that they will all go away if we fuck each other? You're an idiot, sometimes." His face was a pattern of disgust, and Marty began to sob, certain that she had lost Ray's love. He was treating her like a child, or worse—like a woman with whom he had become disinterested.
When she moved away and held her hand over her eyes, Ray's glance softened. He moved over and put his arm around her and kissed her head. "I'm sorry, honey," he soothed, "I guess I'm just upset about all this. I didn't mean to be sharp with you. It isn't your fault, really. After all, we were both in the picture, weren't we?" He smiled, trying to make light of the situation, but it came off badly.
"Come on, snap out of it," he said teasingly. With one hand he reached out and cupped her breast, and with the other, he ran his fingers up under her short skirt and inside her panties, brushing the lips of her cunt with his fingertips. "I love you, baby. I'm crazy about you. When this has all blown over, you'll see, I promise."
His touch brought hope back to Marty, and she snuggled close, holding his hand that covered her breast.
"Can I have you now?" She pleaded. "I need it—I need you to give me the courage I almost lost, when you were so nasty on the phone today, and then—just now, I felt you didn't need or want me anymore."
Ray shook his head, more in awe at himself, than at her sexiness. He marveled how the very sight and touch of this little sexpot could so fill him with a need and desire that everything else was meaningless. He felt his prick begin to rise as her hand roved his thigh, touching his cock through the cloth of his trousers.
In a way, he needed her body to impart courage to him. The ordeal he faced with Brady wasn't to his liking. He hadn't liked the man from the start, and after discovering his affair with Marty, Ray liked him even less. He reached down and started the car, and they drove to an edge of the town that was given over to huge warehouses and which was practically deserted at this time of day. He drove into a long, shadow-filled alleyway between warehouses and parked.
On the way, Marty had been playing with his cock, having taken it out of his pants. She had been masturbating him, and alternating her hand with her mouth, and when he arrived at the parking spot, he was more than ready for some wild sex. Meanwhile, Marty had been turned on by the sight and feel of his prick and his playing with her breast as they drove.
They climbed into the back seat and she stripped off her panties and spread her legs wide. Ray got on his knees on the floor and spread her even wider, immediately diving into her throbbing cunt with his mouth open, his tongue playing a tattoo on her clit as it flicked quickly over the hard, pulsating knob of flesh. With one hand, he was running his finger up her asshole, and with the other, he was digging deep inside her cunt, touching the walls of her inner depths, while his tongue and teeth kept her clit in a state of agitation. Inside a couple of moments, she began to roll her hips and gasp, and she came with a shudder, moaning her love for Ray as he applied the final, quieting strokes with his tongue.
It was her turn to take care of his needs, so they switched positions, with him on the seat and Marty on the floor. She went at his cock hungrily, as if it had been years since they had engaged in sex, instead of only hours. She plunged it deep into her mouth, while she held it with one hand wrapped around the base, moving it slowly up and down. With her other hand, she played with his testicles, and in a few moments Ray was ready to come in her mouth. As he braced himself for orgasm, looking down at her bobbing head, watching his cock go in and out of her wet mouth, Ray wondered incongruously when Helen would really give him a blow job, and whether it would be as thrilling as what Marty gave.
As he shot his load into her open throat, Ray closed his eyes and imagined that it was Helen who was gulping down his semen, hungrily licking his slimy prick, softly massaging his jumping balls.
She kept her hold on him with her mouth and her hands, until Ray was again erect and hard, and then she quickly scrambled away and seated herself astride him, her knees bent awkwardly, so that her cunt was almost on top of his rigid prick. He deftly inserted it into her wide-open cunt lips, while Marty raised herself until he had it all in. Hands linked around his neck, she began to bounce about to allow his cock to penetrate deeply. Ray placed his hands under her ass-cheeks, lifting and maneuvering so that they kept a constant contact of their organs.
Marty liked it this way, facing each other, but with their faces far enough apart to allow her to see Ray's face. As they gazed into each other's eyes, Ray saw the lust that he felt mirrored in her eyes. She was like a bitch in heat, he thought—a pure animal who knew nothing of love, or morals, but only of the satisfaction that sex brought to her young body. It didn't matter what man, he thought grimly—just so he satisfied her.
It was her insatiable desire for sex that had brought about the tense situation they were now in, he reflected. As his orgasm approached, he had a difficult time keeping his thoughts on the situation. At the final moment, nothing was in his mind or his blood, except Marty.
It was thrilling to watch her face as it was covered with ecstasy as she came, and as Ray shot his semen high into her, feeling some of it dribble back out of her cunt and down onto his pubic hair. He cursed himself for a damned fool, but at the same time, he realized that he was her victim as much as Brady had been, or Tom—or any man that she chose to conquer.
Ray felt that he was in a trap, and that the lid was closing, and that he would strangle quickly. Yet, he felt exhilarated and brave at the daring he had exhibited, and at the challenge he would face tonight, later on. She was like a drug to him, sending him to the heights one moment, then to the depths of despair the next, but like a drug she had hooked him on her body.
As they relaxed after their orgasm, Ray was filled with a sudden urge to tell her that this was their last fuck—that he had decided it wasn't worth the risk of losing his wife, his reputation, perhaps his business and most of all, his own self-respect.
But instead, he let his cock soften its way out of her cunt, while his mouth locked on hers and they swore once more their undying love for one another.
He dropped her off two blocks from home, then he went back to the garage until five, when he left for home. When he arrived, entering the kitchen by the back door, Helen threw herself into his arms, planting a big kiss on his mouth. "Remember?" she asked coyly. In spite of himself, Ray grinned down at her and cupped his hands around her ass, drawing her close so that she rubbed her woman's mound against his cock. It began to grow hard as they kissed, and Ray finally pushed her away and said, "Remember, Marty is here."
Helen's face fell, but she brightened at the thought that there would be new and exciting thrills tonight, for she had finally unlocked the floodgates of her deep love for Raymond Milford, and she had a lot of catching up to do. She had been thinking all afternoon of their lovemaking, and, most of all, she had been chiding herself for having refused Ray so many varieties of sex, all these years. His cock had actually felt and tasted exciting, when she'd sucked it last night, and she had determined that tonight she would go all the way.
He told Helen that he had to go out for a while that evening, on a business deal, but that he would be home early. The look in his eye told her that he meant to continue their sex session of the night before, and Helen was a bright, happy person all during supper.
Marty reluctantly took the key from her collection and secreted it in her pocket. She fought with herself, trying to convince herself that she had no other choice, while her ego told her that she could yet win this battle with Brady, without Ray's help, if only she had the chance.
She slipped the key to Ray right after supper and, after helping with the dishes, she returned to her room to mope.
She was restless, her imagination trying to construct the scene between Ray and Bill Brady. It was little consolation to her that they were, in a way, fighting over her. She knew that Ray would win any battle they might engage in, simply because he was a stronger person.
For his part, Ray was nervous. He didn't relish the meeting, for Brady would be expecting Marty, and would probably become nasty with Ray. But he had to find out just what Brady had in mind concerning his hot little news item concerning Marty and himself.
So, at seven, Ray knocked on Bill Brady's door and was greeted by the not-too-surprised smile of his adversary.
"Come in, Milford," Brady said easily. "I was half expecting you, instead of your niece." He stood aside and Ray entered, quickly glancing around the tastefully furnished apartment.
"That's one of the things I want to talk about," Ray said in a stern manner, seating himself on the sofa. "How did you find out that Marty was my niece, and why did you blackmail us with a picture—if you have a picture." Ray was grasping at straws, hoping that Brady had been bluffing.
"Oh, I've got the picture all right," Bill said in a confident voice. "Nice and clear, showing you and Marty engaged in intercourse—from the rear, shall we say. And finding out who you were wasn't too difficult for me. I just asked to see her records here at school. They told me she was an orphan, and that, as next of kin, her uncle, Raymond Milford, was appointed her legal guardian. Then when I saw your name on the garage, and on your bills and receipts, and saw Marty leaving your place one day, it was easy to put it together."
"I wouldn't have thought anything of it, except for the price the slut made me pay for a piece of ass!" Brady was turning the knife in Ray's guts, and enjoying it. "She asked too high a price for a little fucking, and when I tried to buy it back from her, she laughed in my face. The bitch is nothing but a nymphomaniac—a common whore! She takes things from men for screwing them, and that makes her nothing but a whore! I wonder what she's taken from you, because it's obvious that you've been making it with the little bitch—probably more than anyone else!"
Ray stood up, fists clenched, tempted to rush Brady and break his face up, but he controlled himself and sat back down. "Blackmail is as bad as prostitution," he ground out, "and that's all you are—a cheap blackmailer."
Brady nodded confidently. He knew he had the upper hand. Ray needed that picture too badly to give him any real trouble.
"I don't know why I'm even here," Ray continued. "As far as that goes, you'd have a lot to lose if Marty or I, as her guardian, blew the whistle on you. I don't think they think much of teachers who seduce pupils!"
"Seduce!" Brady snorted. "That's a laugh! You know who did the seducing, if you want to call it that. That little bitch made up her mind to fuck me and to get herself a souvenir, and she did. Now I want my key back. I'm not going to argue with you, because you're in no position to argue with anyone over your fucking hot-assed niece! If you've got the key, I've got the picture. Let's get this nasty little scene over with!"
Brady stood staring down at Ray, unafraid, angry.
Ray was still fighting the temptation to knock the crummy teacher on his ass, but instead, he reached in and took out the Phi Beta Kappa key and held it in his hand so Brady could see it.
"Get the picture, you creep, and it had better be the only copy, or I'll bust you into little pieces!"
Brady was grim faced as he left the room and returned a moment later with the picture. It was fairly obvious that it was taken by a Polaroid camera, and Ray knew that if that were true, he wouldn't have had time to have copies made.
They stood a few feet apart, glaring at each other like angry male tigers about to clash over a female. Ray held out the key and Brady extended the picture, and in a sudden gesture, each snatched the other's offering. Brady stood staring happily at his key, but Ray, after a quick glance at the picture of he and Marty, turned his eyes back to Brady.
"Don't forget, Brady, if any copy shows up, you're heading for a hospital!" He stood up, a good six inches taller than the teacher, glowering at him. "And the same goes for any gossip that you start. Don't forget, you rotten bastard, that you can get smelled up from the same shit that you smear on anybody else! I'll see to it!"
Ray pocketed the picture and stalked out without a backward glance, leaving a relieved man behind. Brady was glad that it had turned out this way, that Ray Milford had come instead of his sexy niece. It might have been more difficult, dealing with the shrewd little hot pants, and Brady wasn't sure whether he might not have succumbed to that lush, sexy body once again and come out on the short end of the deal.
Ray was still angry when he drove into the driveway, but his anger was turned more at Marty than Brady. Brady was like himself, or Tom, or any other male old enough to get a hard-on—a sucker in the hands of Marty.
He put a bright look on his face as he entered the house, however, and found both Helen and Marty watching TV. As he noted the exposed thighs of Marty, curled up on the couch, and the white flash of her parity crotch, his anger returned. It reached a white-hot pitch, however, when his eyes fell on her ankle. She was brazenly wearing the slave bracelet he had given her. He knew by the quick sly glance she shot at him, that she had done it deliberately to remind him that he belonged to her!
Helen smiled at him, without taking her eyes from the TV screen. "Everything work out well, honey?"
Ray looked at Marty as he answered, his jaw set and his eyes hard. "Yeah, everything worked out just fine," he said, knowing that Marty was getting his message. She glanced over at him, and he motioned to her to take off the anklet. Marty understood, but she calmly turned back toward the TV, ignoring him. She moved her leg so that the ankle bracelet showed clearly, as if warning him that she was still boss.
Ray went back into the kitchen and poured some lukewarm coffee and sipped it. He knew that it was over between them. Marty was getting too damned smart. She figured she was running his life, and Ray was determined to get rid of her—to get her out of his and Helen's life once and for all. But how? He felt that if he tried to put her out and make her a ward of the state, she would blab all about their affair, to spite him. And now there was Brady to corroborate any story that Marty chose to tell! Ray was trapped. He knew it, and Marty knew it, and from now on, life would be miserable unless he did exactly what she wanted—and she wanted Helen out of the way, and Ray for her own private whipping boy and sex servant!
Ray wondered why he hadn't spotted this long before, and avoided the pitfall. It was too late now, he sighed. All he could do was to look for a sensible way out. He had to get rid of Marty, and take his chances on her blowing up, and the sooner he did it, the better off everyone would be.
Marty walked out to the kitchen, pretending to get a glass of water, but she said to him in a whisper, "You got it?"
He merely nodded, sizzling as he saw her crafty smile.
"Let me have it." It was a demand, not a request, and Ray turned in sudden rage, catching himself at the second he was about to blurt out a curse, and tell Marty off once and for all. "I said, give me the picture!" Marty repeated, between gulps of water. "Or I'll tell Helen all about this ankle bracelet. She's been dying to ask me about it all night. Now—give me the picture."
"I tore it up!" Ray lied, unconsciously letting his hand go to the pocket where it lay.
"You're a liar," she spat in a rasping whisper. She turned toward the living room door and called, "Aunt Helen—"
Ray moved quickly, digging out the picture and thrusting it into her hand. "You rotten sonofabitching whore!" He spat at her back-as she walked into the room, letting her voice sound calm as she continued, "—can I bring you a drink of something?"
He heard Helen politely refuse Marty's offer, and his nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists. He wanted to beat the hell out of that smug little bastard. Now, she had even more ammunition to use against him—the picture. He should have called her bluff, but Ray Milford knew that the one thing his niece was not, was a bluffer. He headed for the bathroom and a cold shower, and then to bed to await Helen's coming. He had to consult with her about a way to get rid of Marty, without compromising himself, or their position in the community.