Chapter 7
Thirty minutes later, the teenage conspirators were back in the kitchen, fully dressed, and Pete stood at the door ready to leave.
"What... what time do you think you'll see her tonight?" Wendy asked, excitedly intense both from the galvanic thrills of her lewd behavior with the supermarket delivery boy and from the strange excitement of the plan she was setting in motion.
"Oh, say about eight o'clock. Figure by eight-thirty me and Mike should have her stuck like a pig on a spit!"
"That's fine ... that's fine," the scheming young brunette said. "And thank you, Pete ... This means a great deal to me ..."
"You don't have to thank me baby. You're payin' for my services, don't forget that. Oh, by the way, I have something for you." The thin, muscular youth reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small packet of aluminum foil. Opening it carefully, he revealed half a dozen small pink capsules. "They're called Zoom-40's. Brand new stuff, and guaranteed to get you off."
Warren's daughter's eyes widened in terror as she realized that the contents of the small packet were drugs! She knew that a lot of kids experimented with narcotics nowadays, but so far she had been totally removed from that scene. Now, Pete was actually offering her some.
"No ... I don't want any," she said with a trace of distaste. "And I don't think you should be fooling around with those things either. Drugs are dangerous, Pete, and illegal too. You could get in big trouble if anybody found out you had that."
"Bullshit, I'm cool as long as nobody talks. You ain't gonna spill the beans, are you baby? I mean that wouldn't be too hip, especially after our little fun and games."
"No ... no, I won't say anything, Pete, you know that. But... you know drugs aren't good for you."
"You been reading too many magazines," the hyper-sexed teenager remarked, laughing. "Not good for you? Hell, these little babies are gifts from the gods! Make you feel real nice and high. Take one."
He thrust one of the pink capsules toward her, but the nervous young brunette shrank back, afraid of having even the remotest contact with such things.
"No ... no, Pete I can't..."
"Hell, just take it. Maybe when you're not so uptight some day you'll try it..."
"What... what does it do?" the girl asked, hesitantly taking the capsules from the lean, long-haired youth.
"Everything, baby, everything. Makes you see the world in the best light, takes away all the bullshit. Like a truth drug, only better. Makes you horny as hell, too," he grinned.
Wendy went to the kitchen cabinet, took out a roll of aluminum foil and tore off a small piece to wrap the pink capsule. There was no point in refusing to take the capsule from him, she realized, even if she wasn't going to use it. Yet, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her mind, the vaguest wisp of an idea was forming, an idea which had barely touched her consciousness, an idea that involved the possible use of the drug, like an automaton under the hypnotic spell of her neurotic scheming, she wrapped up the little capsule and tucked it safely in the pocket of her tight shorts.
"Thanks, Pete," she said, smiling at him conspiratorially.
"No sweat, kid," he replied. "I gotta get back to the store now."
"Don't forget about tonight," the teenage brunette called to him as he left.
"Don't worry, I'll by there," he yelled, straddling his scooter and starting up the motor. "Just leave everything to old Pete, all right?"
"All right."
In the next moment, the delivery boy was speeding down the driveway leaving a trail oi exhaust fumes behind him. Wendy watched him drive away for a moment, then turned back into the house. Later, sitting at the kitchen table, she reopened the tiny foil packet and stared with intense curiosity at the strange forbidden drug that Pete had given her.
"Maybe this is just what I need to make my plan work," she murmured meditatively. "Maybe this will make sure Daddy really sees the truth about Brandie Harper. Yes ... the truth."
By seven-thirty that evening, Pete Haney sat inside the brightly lit interior of the Red Stallion Drive-in, a slightly seedy but popular all-night eating place. Dressed in a skin-tight T-shirt, denim jacket and jeans, he was finishing a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. Across from him was a half-finished cup of coffee and a ham-and-cheese sandwich, a package of cigarettes and a ring of keys. The long-haired teenager glanced back and forth from the items before him on the table to the door of the men's room where his companion for the evening, Mike Foster, had gone only a few minutes before. Finally, the door opened and Mike returned to the room.
Pete was struck, once more, with his older friend's impressive appearance. He was a tall man, about six foot-two, with a strong muscular build. His face was pale, tough-looking, with strongly chiselled features, framed by thick, blond curly hair. A long, thin scar dipped down across his cheek to his chin, giving him a rugged, menacing look. He was dressed in a tight-fitting sharkskin blue suit with an ivory shirt and a pale light blue silk tie. His teenaged friend watched in admiration as Mike strode with masculine assurance down an aisle, taking long strides, until he finally slipped into the booth across from the long brown-haired youth.
"You were in there a long time," Pete said in a low voice. "Thought maybe you fell in."
Mike smiled darkly at the boy, his steelly blue eyes flashing.
"Well, man," he said in a husky male voice, "I decided I wanted to take more than just a shit. Decided that if we was gonna have some hot pussy tonight I wanted to make sure I was real stimulated for the fun. Know what I mean?"
The older man winked, and Pete smiled knowingly. He liked being with Mike. It made him feel grown up and manly, as if through Mike he had been accepted into the world of real men, a world of dealers, pimps, and sharp operators who knew how to make money and live on easy street.
"Did you take one of those Zoom-40's?" the teenaged delivery boy asked.
"Yeah, and some uppers too, so I should be flying pretty high by the time we get to this chick's house. What'd you say her name was?"
"Brandie ... Brandie Harper ... do you know her?"
"Well, the name don't ring a bell, but the way you describe her sure makes me wonder. Blonde hair and those blue eyes... blue as the Pacific ... there's only one chick I know could match that description, but there's no way to be sure till I see her. Anyway, she sounds like a nice piece of ass, and I could use some hot pussy wrapped around my cock. I been workin' too hard lately."
"Hey, Mike, maybe I should do up some Zoom40's, too. Do you think? Have a big party ... it's my last night before school starts."
"Sure, why not, kid? Get it while you can, you know. That's what my old man used to say. But don't go overboard, I don't want you ending up in the city morgue. You're gettin' to be one of my best customers."
"Hey, listen, Mike, I'm no kid. I'm cool. I ain't gonna o d., not me."
"Good. Now you're showin' your smarts, kid."
"But I think I will go to the John and drop a cap, okay?"
"Sure man, go ahead. When you get back I'll be finished with my sandwich and we can get ourselves ready for some real nice fuckin' and suckin'."
Mike and Pete laughed lewdly, and with a wink, the young teenager left the table and headed for the men's room.
At the same time, several miles away, Warren Wendt and his winsome daughter were settling down in the living room after dinner.
"Honey," the handsome father was saying, "that was a terrific meal. You're getting to be quite a cook."
"Thanks, Daddy. I thought I'd make something special tonight, like ... like Mommy might have done."
Warren gazed sadly into the limpid brown eyes of his shapely offspring who looked so much like her late mother.
"You miss Mommy, don't you?"
"Sometimes. But it was so long ago, and it hasn't been bad, just the two of us like this ... we're still like a family ..."
"Yes, in many ways we are, darling. You've been great, a perfect daughter. Still, you know I've been thinking that we could use a woman around the house again."
Wendy froze at his words and sat stiffly in the easy chair, trying hard not to show her Unhappiness at his remark. Why did he want to have another woman in the house? Hadn't she shown him that she could take Mommy's place? She could cook and clean and do everything expected of a good wife. And ... she could do other things, too ... if only he would realize it. Instinctively the troubled adolescent understood that her father was trying to prepare her for the fact that he might marry Miss Harper. Inwardly she was grateful that she had gotten her strange scheme in motion, for "if all went well, tonight Daddy would realize once and for all what a disgusting woman Brandie was, and know, too, that he didn't need any other woman to make him happy. He deserved the best, he deserved to be taken care of the way her Mommy had taken care of him, and his daughter was determined to do it!
"Daddy," she said softly, "I've been so happy here with you. Why do we have to change things?"
"I thought you'd like to have a new mother, honey. You know it's not good for you to be alone after school."
"But I don't mind ... I don't mind at all. And besides, it's so soon after ... after ..."
Warren knew at once that his pretty daughter was referring to the disturbing sexual incident that had happened to her in New York. Obviously she still felt she wasn't over it, and that a woman in the house might disturb her further. Yet the handsome advertising executive knew that the time had come to take action, and particularly since he was growing fonder of Brandie Harper every day, and saw her as a perfect partner, he felt it might be wise to be a little more firm with Wendy.
"Sweetheart," he said quietly, "I know you're still upset after... what happened, but I've been thinking lately that it might be the best thing for me to get married again ..."
"Daddy, would you like a drink?" his daughter asked brightly, suddenly changing the subject.
"Oh?" Warren said, laughing. "You mean you've been learning to mix drinks, too?"
"Sure, Daddy, there's lots of things I can do now, I'm practically grown up. Would you like some Scotch?"
"Well, why not? Let's see what kind of a drink you make. Just remember, two cubes of ice ... "
"And just a wee bit of soda. I know."
"You're amazing."
Her father watched, amused, as his curvaceous daughter went to the bar in the corner of the room and began to expertly mix him a drink. It was remarkable the way she handled the household and saw to his every need. If Brandie Harper hadn't come along, chances were he wouldn't have considered remarrying, because in a sense Wendy did fill that place for him ... except... except, of course, sexually.
Wendy turned her back to her father as she mixed the drink, and making sure he couldn't see, she quickly opened the pink capsule she had placed on the bar earlier and dropped the fine white powder inside into his drink, stirring the Scotch so that there was no trace of it visible to the naked eye. For a moment she hesitated. She began to wonder if she was making a mistake, instigating this elaborate, dangerous scheme to help her father. Maybe she was being ridiculous, putting this strange, unlawful drug into his drink. Maybe instead of helping things she would just make them worse.
At that moment, however, the sound of a car was heard screeching to a stop on the street outside.
"I wonder who that could be?" Warren asked, puzzled, as he rose to look through the living room curtains. Peering into the street, he could see a late model Cadillac stopped in front of Brandie Harper's house, and two men getting out. Although it was hard to distinguish clearly in the evening shadows, he thought that one of the men looked almost like the delivery boy from the supermarket.
"Who is it?" Wendy asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
"Can't tell, must be people visiting Brandie. One of them could almost be Pete Haney ..."
Suddenly the teenaged nymphet gasped.
"Oh no ... oh no, it can't be ... then it's true, it's true ..."
Warren turned to stare at his daughter, unable to comprehend her unusual reaction. He could see a look of horror in her eyes and tears forming in the corners.
"Baby ... what is it? What's wrong?"
"Daddy ... I can't tell you ... it's too awful... I can't tell you anything ..."
"Can't tell me what? Wendy, what is going on?"
A look of deep concern crossed his face, as the widower walked over to his daughter. She stood staring down into the drink she held in her hand, as if unable to speak, then she glanced up searchingly into her father's deep brown eyes.
"Here ..." she said, handing him the drink tearfully, "you'd better drink this ...I have something to tell you ... something awful..."
In the house across the street, Brandie Harper was reclining on her wide living room couch, dressed only in a flimsy blue chiffon negligee and sipping a martini when the front doorbell rang. A look of annoyance flashed across her sultry features when she heard it.
"Damn, now who the hell could that be at this hour?"
She had decided to spend the evening alone to do some serious thinking. The ravishing call girl knew that Warren was very close to proposing to her, and she was prepared now to accept. She wanted desperately to start a new life, and had decided, only minutes earlier, to give up her expensive Kensington Park West apartment, sever her old ties, and start again as Mrs. Wendt. Still, she wanted to give herself the whole evening to think things through, and the unexpected interruption broke her mood of thoughtful reverie.
Putting her drink down, she rose from the couch and moved sensuously across the living room toward the front door, stopping momentarily at the hall mirror to adjust her negligee and fluff up her loosely hanging blonde hair. Finally, after the fifth insistent ring at the doorbell, she went to the door and opened it.
At first, seeing Pete's familiar face, she was about to slam the door shut, but in the next instant she saw his blond-haired companion standing slightly behind the delivery boy. The sultry blonde's eyes widened in astonishment and her jaw dropped open in surprise.
"Mike! Oh my God, Mike!"
The tough-looking older man expressed momentary surprise as well when he saw the face of the beautiful blonde.
"Well, well, well," he said slyly, his eyes narrowing. "I should have guessed it was you."
"What are you doing here, and what do you want?" Brandie snapped back.
"You know this chick then?" Pete asked his companion.
"I know her all right," Mike replied, his lips curling back in a lascivious smile, "her and me is old friends, ain't that right, Goldie?"
"Goldie?" Pete echoed in bewilderment.
"Yeah, this here's Goldie Parker, one of the hottest numbers in town. So we meet again, huh, baby? Small world ain't it?"
"Get out, get out of here!" the shocked call girl shouted, trying to close the door hurriedly. But the two men with Mike in the lead, pushed inside the hallway.
"That's no way to treat a friend, Goldie, not after all this time."
Brandie closed the front door and then turned to face the intruders.
"I don't know what's going on here," she spat in icy anger, "but I want you both out of here in two minutes or I'll call the police."
"Oh, now I wouldn't do that, Goldie, not if you don't want to blow your cover here. Brandie Harper, huh ... nice name. Where'd you get it? Out of a phone book?"
"Hey, what's this Goldie business?" Pete cut in.
"This baby's real name is Goldie Parker. She used to be the wildest hooker in Long Beach until she got ambitious and fancy and moved into L A. where the bread was. She and me even shacked up for a while together, didn't we, Goldie, back in our younger days."
"Look, Mike, when I walked out on you and said I didn't want to see you ever again, I meant it. I don't know how you found me, or what you're doing here, but I'll kill you if you don't leave me alone,"
"Cool it, honey," the older man snarled, "we ain't staying long."
Casually, the stylishly dressed dope dealer sauntered into the living room, whistling under his breath as he took in the expensive furnishings and decor.
"Quite a setup, honey. For a hillbilly gal from North Carolina, you done all right for yourself."
"Mike here's my friend," Pete interjected, as he followed his companion into the living room. "I'll bet he is," the call girl said, moving cautiously behind him. Although she tried not to show it, her careful control was on the verge of collapse. The last person in the world she'd expected to see that night was Mike Foster, and his presence made her fingertips grow cold with fear. They had been lovers, years ago, in Long Beach, and Mike had pimped for her for awhile before she made the break to go uptown in Los Angeles. He was a small-time hustler, and she knew he always would be. But he could make trouble for her, big trouble, and that was one thing she didn't need now, now when everything was going well for her. "Suppose you two tell me what you want?" she asked, her eyes flashing with anger.
The older man shot her a hard look, his steelly blue eyes carefully taking in her curvaceous form, so sensually emphasized by the clinging negligee she wore. It had been years since he'd seen his former girl, and it was obvious to the experienced hustler that she hadn't lost a bit of her sensually smoldering allure. In fact, the years seemed to have given her a touch of worldly sophistication that made her appetizing figure and face even more desirable than ever. Already his large penis was stiffening rapidly in the tight crotch of his thin trousers, and his loins were churning with the same intensity of lewd desire that he had felt for her from the beginning, years ago in a small hotel room in Long Beach. He was beginning to feel the effects of the drugs he had taken earlier, too, and his tough, muscular body was throbbing with the heightened warmth and sensitivity they induced. Goldie, or Brandie as she called herself now, was more ravishing than ever, and it would be a kick to give her a real hard, wicked fuck ... for old times' sake.
"Like the old days, ain't it, baby?" he said, his voice thickening from the effects of the capsules.
"No," Brandie said stiffly, "it isn't like the old days. I don't want life to be like that ever again. I hated it and I always will."
Yet, deep inside, the shapely blonde felt a strange twinge of desire take hold of her. At first she attributed it to the martinis she had been drinking earlier, and cursed herself for being slightly tipsy at this inconvenient time. But there was something else happening, and she could barely admit it to herself. Seeing Mike again, after so many years, brought back an uncontrollable rush of desire. Her vagina was already swelling with excitement as if it recalled how thrilling their sex life had been. Christ, there hadn't been anything she wouldn't do for Mike then. She'd been crazy in love with him, ready to screw anytime, anywhere if he wanted her to. She had left him because he was a two-timing bastard, and cheated her every chance he got. But there was no denying, despite all that, that since him, she had never been as satisfied, as thrilled, and all the old feelings were welling up in her like a raging storm.
"Mike and me thought we'd pay you a visit and see if you were in the mood for a real good fuck tonight," Pete said.
His brain beginning to reel in a drug-induced stupor, the corrupt delivery boy could feel his youthfully anxious penis lurching like a bucking stallion in his jeans, and it was all he could do to keep from ripping the clothes from the blue-eyed beauty's fabulous body and fucking her like a madman.
"How dare you?" she cried in protest, "How dare you talk to me that way, you little punk."
"Hey, that's no way to talk to my friend," Mike slurred, walking toward Brandie slowly, like a tiger stalking its prey. "What's wrong with a little fuck for old times sake, huh?"
"Please, Mike," the sultry blonde pleaded, her voice now betraying her nervousness, "please get out of here and leave me alone."
The curvaceous beauty began to back away from her steadily approaching ex-lover in fear. The look in Mike's eyes told her that he wasn't about to be stopped, and she remembered with a shudder that she had always been powerless to resist him.
"Please ... please, no Mike," she murmured, suddenly finding herself backed up against the living-room wall, "not like this, please ...."
"Why not, baby? You used to like it anytime, any way. What's the matter, gettin' too high class for old Mike?"
Suddenly the drugged older man reached out and yanked harshly at the front of Brandie's flimsy negligee, completely exposing the front of her soft, milk-white body with one cloth-shearing yank. Without hesitation he reached out and grabbed the ample flesh of her tautly quivering breasts and bent down to kiss her harshly on the soft fullness of her red lips. At first, the tormented call girl resisted his obscene assault, struggling and twisting to get away from his lascivious hands and lips, but it was useless, and soon she felt her trembling body becoming consumed with fiery waves of unwanted passion.
Pete Haney, standing close by, watched in bug-eyed fascination as his friend from Hollywood pressed his powerfully muscled body up against that of Brandie Harper, grinding his hips into her pelvis and kissing her with animal intensity while he kneaded the pliant flesh of her ripe melon breasts. The drug-sodden teenager grew hotly excited by what he saw, and he knew that the scene he and his friend had planned earlier in the drive-in was soon to be an obscene reality. His rapidly swelling penis pounded like a trip-hammer in his jeans as youthful lust began to take hold of his slim body with the irresistible force of a tornado. Meanwhile, Brandie, unwillingly caught in the lusty drug dealer's hungry embrace, felt her mind billowing in turmoil. A maze of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she struggled to resist the onslaught of thundering desire that sizzled through her lushly shaped flesh. She couldn't believe it was happening, trapped in her own living room by her ex-lover and a local teenaged boy, a helpless prey to their agressive male lusts. She couldn't give in, she couldn't; yet there was nothing to be done. They were stronger than she was, for one thing, and they had it in their power to destroy the one possibility of real happiness that had come her way by revealing her shady past to the locals. There was no way out of it, she had to surrender now to their lurid demands, otherwise her whole life was in peril. And besides, in her semi-drunken state even if she wanted to resist them, she could not fight off the creeping lust that threatened to consume her entire being. No, it was too much, and with a groan of submission she suddenly began to return Mike's searching kisses, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth and pressing her pelvis ardently against the stiff hardness of his fully erect penis as it lurched inside his trousers. As she moved her lips away from his and began to eagerly explore his neck, she could see, over his shoulders, that his teenage companion was lewdly stripping himself of his clothes, while his eyes glittered with mounting passion.
God help me, the helpless call girl screamed inwardly, oh dear God, help me!
In the house across the street, Warren Wendt sat numbly on the couch, sipping the drug-laced drink his daughter had prepared for him while Wendy tearfully revealed the terrible "secret" she had discovered. When she finally finished, seated erect in the chair opposite the couch, there was a long silence while her father absorbed her words.
"How ... how do you know Pete was telling the truth?" Wendy's father asked finally. "How do you know he wasn't making all this up? He's a boy, just a kid, how could he know about such things?"
"He said ... he said he's ... he's been with her too ... and that lots of other men have been with her ... oh Daddy, what if it's true? What if she's nothing but a ... "
"Be quiet." Warren snapped, cutting her off. "I don't want you talking like that when you don't really know for sure. I don't think Pete Haney is any kind of reliable source about anything, do you understand, and I can't believe that Miss Harper is... is that kind of person ..."
For a moment, the troubled widower grew dizzy and he leaned back against the couch to recover his senses. I must be tense, he thought. Hell, I feel awfully drunk on this one Scotch.
Unaware that his disturbed daughter had put the powerful white powder into his drink, he attributed his strangely warm and drunken state to the liquor and his anxiety over what Wendy had been telling him. He was sure the Haney boy had been making' up stories to impress his daughter. Yet, he had to admit he didn't know much about Brandie's personal life. He assumed that her occasional trips into L A. were for modeling assignments. Anything was possible, of course, but this was too incredible to believe. Setting down his drink, he put his hands to his temples and began to massage them slowly. His head felt like it was on fire, and he had great trouble focusing his thoughts. His whole body, in fact, began to react strangely, tingling with unusual excitement.
"Daddy," Wendy persisted, "Pete even said he and a friend were going to visit Miss Harper tonight, and have a big party. That must have been them in the car. You said it looked like Pete."
"It... it was too ... dark ...," Warren replied, startled to discover he had difficulty speaking, and when he did, the words sounded hollow, far away. "Wendy ... I... I'll talk to Miss Harper ... tomorrow ... my head is so... "
"But Daddy," his brown-haired daughter went on insistently, "it may be too late tomorrow. Maybe she's in there now with them ... you could see for yourself... oh please, Daddy, I could never even bear to talk to her again if I thought... oh, for my sake, Daddy, please, couldn't you go over... to see ... "
"To see? ... Honey ... I... " Despite his efforts to remain in control, Warren's brain reeled from the drug and alcohol combination. His daughter's suggestion that he go over to Brandie Harper's house and see for himself what was happening repelled him at first, but after a few minutes he began to think that maybe, after all, that was the best solution. To see for himself. "Yes... yes ..." he murmured in a slurred voice, "Maybe you're right... " After all, it wasn't for his own sake, it was for his daughter's as well. He couldn't take the chance that she might be traumatized again, not after what happened to her in New York. He had to know the truth, yes ... the truth ... and he had to know now. Half-blinded, he lurched up from the couch, barely conscious of his fogged condition, and went toward the front door. "I'll go right now... settle it once and for all... yes ... "
Trying to conceal her eagerness, Wendy assisted him to the door and opened it for him. Her eyes were ablaze with a sinister delight as she realized that her plan was working better than she had hoped. Mentally she congratulated herself for taking the mysterious drug from Pete and slipping it in her father's drink. It seemed to make him much more receptive to her ideas and suggestions.
"I'll be back in ... in a minute," he mumbled as he careened down the front walk. He was barely conscious of where he was or who he was. He had only one thing on his mind now; that was to find out if what his beautiful daughter told him was true. Ahead of him was Brandie's house, blazing with light, and he staggered towards it like a man obsessed.
Behind him, watching through the window, Wendy was breathless with excitement. It won't be long now, she thought happily, it. won't be long now.