Chapter 4

Conway had wondered from what direction his first contact would come. Now he knew. "You have a name?"

"Don't get smart with me, punk," the man snapped. "The name's Harry Smith, and I'm used to dealing with dime-store hoodlums and rape artists."

It seemed that this Harry Smith was overly touchy, Conway reflected. He had to struggle with himself not to get angry with the man. Steve was curious about the deal. This could be the time when he could find out why he'd been sprung so soon. "I don't suppose you'd care for a drink?"

Smith threw some change onto the table. "I'll buy it," he growled. "I choose my company carefully."

The silence between them was strained as they waited for one fresh drink and a refill. When the whisky came Smith drank his quickly. His eyes never left Conway. "You have forty thousand dollars," he said evenly. "I want it."

"You mean your company wants it," Conway corrected, leering at the waitresses buttocks.

Anger crossed Smith's face. It vanished quickly as he nodded. "I suppose you could say that. Are you going to give it to me?"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Don't you think I'd be a damned fool for handing over all that dough over after having spent three years earning it?"

"You were put in prison for stealing it. There was no salary attached."

"Supposing," Conway began, toying with his cigarette. "Just supposing I did have this money as you seem to suspect. Now let's say that I was to give up half of it. Would that satisfy your company?"

Smith shook his head. "No dice. It's all or nothing."

Conway shrugged and finished his drink. "Now that is too bad. I guess you'll just have to take nothing." He was deliberately baiting the insurance man.

Smith's voice became suddenly brittle. "Look, punk," he shot back. "You don't have any choice. You're a loser whether you know it or not. I've looked up your record and you've been nothing but a trouble maker since you crawled out of your crib. You'll do something stupid and wind up right back in the can." He leaned forward over the table, the expression of his eyes menacing. "We want that money."

"I don't think you're going to get it." Conway added hastily, "That is, if I have it."

Smith gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles shown white. "Don't fool around with us," he warned. "We have plenty of ways to get what we're after. Like I said, you're a loser. You have exactly ten days to give me forty thousand dollars or you'll wind up back in prison with your parole revoked."

Conway had wanted to know why he'd been released. Now he knew. The discovery took some of the wind from his sails. He should have known that the insurance company had enough power in the state to have him released so they could get another crack at him. "Is this the freshest news you have?" he asked, trying hard not to show how much he'd been shook.

Smith got to his feet. "Remember, ten days. I'll be dropping in on you from time to time."

Conway watched the man go through the door and then sank back against the booth. Up until tonight it had been a ball. Now, threatened with a fresh prison sentence, he didn't feel so good. The screws had been put on him, but hard.

Before Conway had time to reflect much on this latest turn of events the young girl returned to his table. She'd changed her clothes. The slacks were gone, replaced by a loose fitting wrap-around skirt. Her deep, V-necked blouse had been replaced by a simple, buttoned black one.

"A few of the fellas will be along in a little while," she explained. "They told me to keep you company until they got here." She sat across from him and ordered them both another drink. "Clancy also gave me the night off." The color in her cheeks heightened. "He said you were going to take me to bed."

"That was his idea," Conway growled. "Not mine."

"You don't think I could do you good?"

"I didn't say that."

"I should think it would be wonderful to have a man who hasn't had a woman in so long a time," the young girl said dreamily.

Conway attempted to change the subject. "Just what is your name?"

"Dolly."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Where the hell are your folks?"

The girl absent-mindedly fingered the top button of her blouse. "Oh, they live down the street a ways. Dad's drunk most of the time, and my mother keeps things going by taking on a man every now and then. I help out all I can by giving Clancy a hand in here when he needs it. The gang is pretty good about giving me money too. We do all right"

Listening to her was like a recording of his own childhood, Conway reflected. "How'd you get hooked up with the gang?"

"I was bored. To tell you the truth I was a prude. I didn't date. I hated men when they looked at my legs. Then one night at a party something happened."

"What?"

Dolly was fingering the third button now. The other two were unfastened and only three were left. The mounds of her breasts had begun to show. "I went to a party," she continued. "It was a real wild party. You know the kind they have around here."

Conway knew. He'd been to a few.

"Most of the other girls got drunk and let the boys do real wicked things to them. I stayed dressed. We all got into a discussion as to how many men a woman could take. I desperately wanted to be the life of the party so I bragged I could take every boy there." Dolly sighed, fingering her drink. "They put me on the ping pong table and took off my clothes. I remember laying there naked with all those people looking down at me. I was ashamed but too afraid to back out. Then a boy touched me. I'd never been touched like that and I liked it." Dolly shrugged. "I don't remember much after that, except those other girls screaming at the boys to do a good job." She smiled. "They did a fine job. After the first two or three I wanted more and more. They told me the next day that seven boys had done it before I passed out."

"And you've been doing it ever since?"

"It's like a drug," Dolly said soberly. "Every time I let a boy do it to me I swear it will be the last time. But the next day I feel all sort of anxious and have to have more."

Dolly's story had made Conway feel strange. Wasn't this exactly what he'd done to Margo? She'd been a virgin when they'd met, and now look at her. He angrily forced the thought from his mind. Dames had to learn to look out for themselves. He stared at the young girl across from him. Even now she was asking for it in spades. Her blouse was unfastened to the waist. He reached over and flicked the cloth a little out of the way, exposing one mound until it plunged into the narrow bra.

"You can take it out," Dolly suggested softly. "No one pays any attention to things like that around here."

Conway looked about them. It was true, not one eye was in their direction. He lifted the breast free of its confinement and covered it with his hand. It was soft and tender, and the nipple was small with a large, darker circle surrounding it. "Nice," he said, knowing that he should say something.

Dolly pressed her hand to his, forcing his fingers more tightly against her bosom. "I'm glad you like it," she smiled. "That's important."

"Why?"

"If a man likes my breasts he'll do a much better job when he takes off the rest of my clothes." She looked down at herself and lifted the fullness from beneath, fingering the tip. "They aren't too big, but the boys say that they make good handles."

Conway felt uncomfortable. It didn't seem right that she should be hanging out like that in public. He tucked the breast back into the bra and pulled the blouse together. "Where is this gang of yours?" he asked, glancing at the clock over the bar.

"They'll be along," Dolly promised. "Let's have another drink and we can dance."

Two whiskies later found them out on the floor. The music had slowed considerably, and Conway was able to manage quite well, considering he'd never been much of a dancer. Dolly struck to him like glue, keeping herself pressed against him until he could feel the movement of her legs. He could feel her whole body and it was tempting.

"You're strong," she said at last, smiling up at him.

All the liquor Conway had consumed had gone to his head. The room was swimming a bit. "How can .you tell?"

"You're snuggled right up to me. "All you have to do is pick me up and lay me down."

"Right here I suppose."

"I wouldn't mind," Dolly said softly. "It's been done before. Clancy calls it his floor show. He pays ten dollars to the couple with the nerve."

"And you could use ten bucks?"

"I wouldn't turn it down."

Conway realized that he'd been wrong earlier in the evening. Clancy's had changed. It was a much rougher joint than he remembered. He took the young girl by the arm and guided her back toward the table. There was a drink waiting, and he consumed it quickly. Now he was drunk. "Where the hell is that gang?" he spat. His voice came out thick.

Dolly sat with her feet away from the table so that he could see the legs she'd exposed by tugging her skirt three quarters of the way up her thighs. "I've a confession to make," she said slowly.

"What's that?"

"They won't be here. I just wanted to hold you until I was able to change into something sexy."

"Well maybe I can meet them tomorrow night," Conway suggested. He felt like the returning war hero anxious to recount his experiences.

Dolly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Steve," she said softly. "They don't care about you. To them you're a has-been."

"I thought you said I was their hero?"

"I lied," Dolly said bluntly. "You're my hero. That's all. I've listened to everyone on the block talk about you for years, and I guess I have a complex."

Conway didn't quite know what to say. In any case he was too drunk to say it.

Dolly leaned closer to him, hiking her skirt up a few more inches and uncrossing her legs. "Let's go over to the park," she suggested softly. "I know a dark spot where we can do it all night. I'm hot and ready."

Conway was damned tired of being propositioned. Dolly was Margo all over again. If he stayed around her long enough he knew she'd even use the same language. For once he wished it was he who'd been making the advances.

And at the same time Conway had a moment of clarity through the alcoholic fog. The girl across from him was just a kid, an eighteen-year-old youngster who should be home listening to records instead of being down at a bar on the make

"You're angry with me," Dolly said suddenly, seeing the expression in his face.

Conway waved his hand in the air. "Hell no," he said thickly. 'Nothing like that at all." He ignored her stare of panic as he rose unsteadily to his feet. He felt a sudden desire to get the hell out of here. He'd had it ... right up to the neck.

As Conway weaved toward the door he heard Dolly's voice calling after him. And at the same time he saw a couple going down on the dance floor, starting to earn their ten bucks.

It was all Conway needed. He exploded from the bar as if afraid the nightmare he'd left behind might catch up.

Conway walked through eight of the toughest blocks in Chicago before his head began to clear. Only then did he start to think straight. So far it had been one hell of a night, he decided. Some homecoming.

At the same time Conway was a little confused concerning himself. Just why in the hell had he turned Dolly down? It was the first time in his life that he'd ever pushed sex away from him. Was he turning into some kind of nut?

For a moment he debated going back to the bar and taking the young girl up on her offer. What harm could come from laying her a few times? It might even make him feel better.

Conway resisted the temptation. It might have been different if he'd been on the make rather than her.

The trouble was that Dolly had stirred up his hormones, and now there wasn't any outlet. It might be that he'd have to get back to Margo sooner than he'd intended.

Conway drew in a deep breath, trying to hurry along the sobering-up process. He lighted a cigarette and looked around him to get his bearings. He was on the long, narrow strip of parkway called the Midway. On either side he could see the dimly lighted buildings of the University of Chicago. Having nothing better to do he began walking toward the lake which he knew was at one end of the park.

Conway thought over his problems and didn't like any of them. There was the matter of the money. Was he going to be forced to give it back? That insurance man had seemed determined. He'd probably meant it when he'd given him only ten days.

Not much time, Conway thought. He had to do something.

But what? He certainly didn't want to go back to prison. Nor did he want to give up the dough. It was a stalemate.

Conway wondered if the money was safe where he'd left it. He knew he should have gone to the place right away and made certain. Still, that wouldn't have been very smart. It could be that he'd been watched. The thought brought a smile to Conway's lips. If he was being followed he was giving his shadow quite a show.

He looked around him again, straining to hear anything. Finally, deciding there was no one around here but himself he continued on his way.

There was the matter of Dolly's so-called gang. What the hell did they mean by calling him a has-been? This thought brought up the bristles on the back of Conway's neck. He was as good a man as ever, and he'd prove it to those punks.

And just how could he do that? At the moment Conway didn't have any ideas. Just the same he made a vow to himself that he'd show them.

Of course he could always rob another bank. Somehow that seemed a little drastic at the moment.

Conway walked along slowly, absorbed in his thoughts. He didn't see the large building housing the Museum of Science and Industry on his right as he passed it.

Ahead of him was the outer drive, now filled with cars coming back from a late evening in the loop. Conway moved beneath the underpass, noting that all of the lights in the long tunnel had been knocked out. That was standard practice in this section. This was a great area for couples wishing to have a little privacy for sex ... if they could stand the stench.

When he came up on the other side the highway was behind him. Before him was another quarter block of thick bushes and trees and then the lake. Conway could hear the waves now as they beat against the shore. He made his way onto the huge granite boulders that made up the breakwater and stood there, feeling cold water splash in his face, watching the restless surface beat against the rock. He remembered the many times he'd swum off this spot during the long, hot summers.

But none of this was solving any of his problems. Conway turned to go hunt himself up a cab.

He'd gotten as far as the bushes when he heard movement in the tunnel he'd just left. Conway knew this area only too well. Standing out here alone he made a perfect target for anyone wanting to crease his skull and take his wallet. He quickly stepped off the path into the protection of the shrubbery.

The footsteps came closer, and Conway held his breath. Much to his surprise the newcomer wasn't a man but a woman. Walking slowly she passed within feet of where he was hiding. Light from the nearby highway splashed over her face and hair and the effect was of somber beauty, topped by golden hair that streamed out in back, pushed by the wind off the lake.

Conway sucked in his breath as he had a brief glimpse of her big breasts pressing against a black sweater. They were something.

As he watched, the woman climbed up on the boulder he'd left. For a long time she just stared out into the dark, oblivious of her dress being blown up around her thighs. The stocking-clad legs were absolute perfection. Once or twice the cloth rose above the limits of modesty and a pair of pink panties came into view.

Conway's lips were suddenly dry. The liquor he'd drunk, plus Dolly's teasing had had its effect. He discovered that he was hot to trot.

The girl out near the water didn't help matters much. She sat down on the rock, secure in the knowledge that she was alone, and started taking her stockings off. Even at this distance Conway could see the smooth flesh as she unrolled the nylons and put them in her purse. His eyes burned from staring at that strip of pink at her legs that prevented him seeing everything.

He was still a lot more drunk than he'd realized. Wild ideas persisted. Maybe he could prove to those punks that called themselves a gang that he wasn't a has-been. Not everybody has the guts to go out and rape a stranger. When they read about that they might show him a little more respect.

But rape. The thought of doing such a thing chilled Conway. Still, why not? If this dame was nuts enough to come down here alone she had it coming to her. Maybe she might even have been looking for it.

Conway had to admit that the idea appealed to him. It would be a novelty to take a woman who'd fight like a tiger instead of ripping off her pants first. His lips formed in a leer. It would be really something.

The girl had stood up now. As she faced the highway, light fell across her face. The features were small and delicate, belonging more to a girl than a woman. She turned and started slowly toward his hiding place.

Conway had to make a decision. Was he going to let her pass?

The woman made his mind up for him. Just opposite where he was crouched she paused and looked back in the direction from which she'd come. This close Conway had a damned good look at her bosom. He already pictured his teeth biting into one of those boobs.

He waited a few more seconds, hoping that she could not hear the pounding of his heart. Then, when she moved on, he swallowed his fear and stepped out behind her.

The rest was easy. Conway snaked his hands out and encircled her breasts, clamping his arms tight and pulling her body against him.

The reaction was immediate ... and loud. She screamed. Her cry was buried in the noise of traffic.

She was struggling now and Conway hung on gamely. He dug his fingers into her breasts and liked what he felt. He laughed drunkenly and kept her close to him so that she'd be unable to identify him later. Her hair in his face smelled sweet and fresh and drove him to greater frenzy.

Conway was enjoying himself. Laughing wildly he dragged the struggling woman into the shadows of the tunnel. Now he was faced with a problem. How the hell did he take her without her seeing who he-was? He wanted enough light to see what he was getting but not enough for her to see him.

The answer was obvious. He yanked at the hem of the sweater and pulled it over her head.

"Don't," the girl cried out, as if just realizing what he was up to.

"Quit fighting it," Conway snapped. "You'll make it easier on both of us."

"What ... what are you going to do?"

Conway was blunt. "Rape you, baby," he chuckled. "But good."

The woman screamed again and broke free of his grip.

Conway swore an oath and raced after her. She didn't get far. The sweater over her head blinded her, and she slammed into the wall. Momentarily stunned, she fell to the ground and he was on her, clawing at the clothing.

"Don't hurt me," the girl pleaded. She cringed as she felt his hands on her flesh.

Conway didn't hear her. He was alive with desire for the woman. Sweat poured down his face from his frenzied activity. For a moment he took time to see what he had. Plenty. With the sweater out of the way only her bra remained. Her heavy breathing repeatedly filled it to capacity with the breasts beneath. He grasped the edge of the cloth and tore the strap free, yanking the material away from her body.

Huge boobs, glorious, trembling, unlike any he'd ever seen before. He squeezed the one in the open until she cried in pain.

Not that the girl had quit struggling. She continued to kick her legs and fight and attempt to get the sweater clear of her face. But it was obvious she was growing weaker.

This was more like it, Conway thought as he leaned down and drew at a breast, nibbling the nipple between his teeth. As she fought him she only succeeded in getting more of her breast in his mouth. Conway didn't object. The skin had a sweet, salty taste that spun his head. He'd become a wild-eyed, sex-hungry animal who'd lost all reason. The girl was his prey.

Conway reached down and yanked her dress upward. She knew what was happening and cried out again, renewing her efforts to free herself.

The sight of her bared, attractive legs leading up into the tight, pink panties drove Conway to greater frenzy. He no longer had any control over himself. He touched her, running his hands over her. The girl stiffened and cried out in panic, as if just discovering her ultimate fate.

"I've got money," she whimpered. "Take it-Just don't do this to me."

Conway's answer was a gruff laugh. He pressed his hand up beneath her dress. When her belt prevented his getting at the edge of the panties he tugged them downward and slid his fingers beneath the elastic Her bared stomach was warm and trembling violently. The material gave as he went lower.

When he touched her the girl screamed again, at die same time clenching her legs together, trying to prevent his further progress.

Nothing did any good. The animal that was her attacker had been spurred on by her softness and warmth.

All strength gone, the woman sank against the ground. "Don't hurt me," she pleaded weakly. "Do it and go away."

But Conway didn't want her to surrender. He wanted her to fight him. She had to fight him. He wanted this to be one woman that battled him for every inch he took of her body. In a drunken, sex aroused lust he ripped her pants to shreds, exposing all of her body to the night air. He took a moment to look at what he'd done. Had he ever seen anything so beautiful? No. The breast in the open was massive, the nipple mounted upon the mound large from his efforts. Her skirt lay in a narrow mound about her waist. She was golden, the color of wheat in the field. He only wished he dared see how her face matched the rest of her.

But Conway was practical in his madness. They'd been here too long. Surely someone would come along and stop him before he'd finished. He had to do it ... now.

His fingers shook as he opened his clothing. No woman he'd known had ever brought him to this peak. Maybe this was the true way to love.

And when he touched the woman she cried aloud for the dozenth time. She fought with her only weapons, her fists pummeling his back, with useless blows.

Conway knew the moment of truth was at hand. He had to force her. Would the powers of sex overcome her fears.

Conway straddled the woman on his knees, kept her pinned down with his hands digging into her breasts. He drove himself at her, forcing her.

"No ... no ... no," the girl cried out, stiffening against his efforts. Her breathing was ragged and short.

Conway struck again, and this time he moved farther. He could feel himself progressing.

"Please don't," the girl repeated.

Conway wanted her now, more than he'd ever wanted a woman. He was on fire, and only she could put out the flames. When he moved her again, her resistance was less. Her body had begun to betray her. As he lifted up she followed him in the classical beginning of loving.

Her hands weren't fists any longer. Instead they dug into his back as if demanding something.

Conway sensed triumph. He placed his knees between hers and forced them apart. This time they gave quite easily.

She was whimpering now, damning her body that had gone against her.

When Conway went against her for a third time her hips rose to meet his. Their union was gentle, with none of the fire that had preceded it.

Conway felt a thousand pleasures as he moved to her body. But then he was surprised. The thought staggered him. The girl beneath him was still a virgin.

He held his breath, appreciating the moment. Only a few times in a liftime does a man experience such a privilege, that of being first.

Now it was the girl who was on the offensive. "Don't leave me like this," she pleaded. "Do it."

Conway's victory was complete. Like all women she needed man. Stars danced in his head as he bore down on her with all his strength. For a moment nothing happened. Then she cried out in pain, and her nails dug into him. She responded, totally, until their stomachs ground together.

"Be careful," the woman panted. Again her body defied her, making a mockery of the words she'd spoken. It pushed at him, tantalized him, sought his strength.

Conway had no control. He fought to prolong the pleasures he was receiving, but it was of no use.

Scarcely minutes after they'd mated he felt himself go, feeling her body tightly against his.

It was over, the passion spent. And with it a veil lifted, and Conway saw himself for what he was, a man lying on top of a stranger, a thug who raped strange women. He struggled to his feet and looked down at her. She hadn't moved to cover herself. Everything was the same. The only sound was that of the woman crying beneath that sweater. A desperate noise that shook Conway to his very roots.

He knelt down beside her. "I ... I'm sorry," he stammered.

"Go away," the woman sobbed. "Leave me alone."

Conway felt like hell. He hesitated a moment longer. Then, for reasons he didn't quite understand, he picked up her purse and extracted a card with a name on it from her wallet. That done, he pulled her skirt back into place and began to run, stopping only long enough to be sick.