Chapter 5
It was two months after Cathy had brought Angela into the fold that Bart got his next idea. It was so obvious he couldn't imagine how it had taken him so long to figure it out. He told Cathy about it the next morning. She looked doubtful, and a little scared.
"I don't know if I can pull it off," she said. "I mean, I don't know that many-"
"Don't sell yourself short," Bart interrupted. "Of course you can pull it off. Why shouldn't you? A beautiful doll like you. And with all you've learned in the past months, it should be duck soup."
"But I don't know that many boys, Bart." She looked like she was getting more and more nervous about it. She didn't want to refuse, of course because she couldn't afford to get Bart pissed off at her. He gave her a frown, just to get her off guard.
"You can meet some. You must have dances and such at that school of yours. I'll let you off a couple of nights. You go to the dances, and pick up on some guy. Make sure he's something special, though. Someone who can do us some good."
"But what about my fixes? I'll need to keep them up, and I won't be earning any money while I'm going to dances."
"I'll put your fixes on the cuff," Bart said, and then held up a hand before she could interrupt. "And if you do this right, and it works, I'll write them off. How's that?" The idea was appealing, of course. Some fixes she wouldn't have to hump for. At least, not with customers. But she was still a little nervous about it. Her conscience wasn't completely deadened yet. Not that it would get in the way when the chips were down, of course. To a junky, nothing is as important as the needle. Cathy was carrying a sixty-dollar monkey now, which put her further into debt every day, since she was still only making fifty bucks a day for fucking.
"Bart, please. I don't want to hook some poor guy who hasn't done me any harm-"
"Look, Cathy, this kind of talk bores me. Now, you owe me a lot of money. You want me to get out the book and tell you how much?"
"No, honey. I-"
"I've been pretty good about it, haven't I?"
"Sure, baby. I didn't mean to imply-"
"All right. I've been carrying you all this time because I like you, and I don't want to have to muscle you any. In this business we have some very strong methods for handling people who can't pay their debts." He let that hang in the air for a moment before going on. He could see its effect on her. "Now, I don't want to get that way with you, and I don't want to use any other methods, either. I could work you more. Instead of pairing you with one guy at a time, I could put you on an assembly line, and make you take on ten or twelve guys a night. I may have to do that eventually, but for the time being, I'm giving you a break."
"Sure, honey, and I appreciate it. Believe me, I'm grateful."
"Now I'm offering you a good business deal. If you're too stupid to see how good a deal it is, then the least you can do is consider how much you owe me. If it wasn't for me, you'd be out on the streets right now, trying to feed your monkey. And before long you'd cruise some vice cop, and have yourself a record for addiction and prostitution. I'm protecting you from that, steering Johns your way. Nice, safe Johns."
"I know-"
"I'm talking. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you your stuff on the cuff the nights you're going out trying to pick this guy up. You bring some nice stud into the fold, and I'll write all that stuff off. I'll also give you two more free rides afterwards, just for bringing the guy in. In the meantime, these dances won't last all night. If you can get in some tricks without endangering what you're trying to do, that will be extra money, and I'll apply it to your tab. Now just tell me yes or no." He looked at her good and hard, to impress on her the importance of coming up with the right answer.
"All right," she said dully. "I'll try, Bart."
"Okay. That's all I can expect you to do. Now, I suppose you want your fix, huh?"
"Sure, baby. If you'll trust me for it." They both knew he was going to give her the fix, of course. It was a little teasing game Bart liked to play with the girls, and they had both learned their roles well by this time.
"Well, I don't know. Do you think I ought to?"
"Well, that's up to you, honey. But sure, I think you should."
"Why?"
"Well, just because we're good friends, Bart." She came forward, and when he didn't say anything to discourage her, slipped onto his lap. She leaned against him, one hand on his shoulder, the other tracing a one-finger line across his cheek. "We're such good friends, you like to do me favors, don't you? And you know I'd do anything for you. Just anything. You only have to name it." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then covered his mouth with hers, slipping her tongue between his teeth. She bulged against him, grinding their mouths together until Bart felt his prick standing up hard as a gun barrel. He knew she could feel it, too. She broke off the kiss and smiled at him from close up. Bart had kept his hand on the arms of the chair up to this point. Now he let one hand move to her leg and slip under her skirt. He ran his palm up along her thigh until it reached the bottom of her panties. She didn't stiffen or pull away, as she would have done a few months before. She sat there, looking at him, if anything, moving a little closer to him. Bart felt a touch of pride in the way he had managed to break her in. A girl who had been a virgin just months before, she was a wanton now, a real whore, capable of doing anything for a man without flinching. Angela had moved right along with her, too, but of course she had had a head start. She had been a pretty nice girl before Bart had gotten hold of her, but not the little innocent that Cathy had been. A whoremonger, he thought with pride. That was what he was. A maker of whores. He slipped his other arm around her and held her close, letting his hand slide under her arm and circle her body to fondle one breast through the thin sweater and bra she was wearing.
Cathy snuggled close to him, pressing her breast into his palm. She looked completely at ease, as though she were doing this with her husband, or with a man she loved at any rate. There was none of the reticence and nervousness of a few months before. She could still pretend to feel those things when the need arose, of course. If a customer was the type who liked to think he was a pioneer, then Cathy would fake it. But she was beyond feeling those things actually. She had learned the main dictum of the junkie's life: nothing is really important but the fix.
Bart took his hand out from under her skirt and started to open the buttons of her sweater. It was a little pink sweater, thin, fragile. Very feminine. She sat quite still, smiling at him, as he opened the garment one button at a time. When it was open all the way down the front, he slipped his hand inside and cupped one breast. It felt nice, but the bra was still in the way. It was such a thin bra he could feel the warmth of her skin through it, and the nipple that pressed against the front of the cup. He slid his hand under the bra cup and pried it away from the breast. The tit came free and bulged sweetly into his palm, as soft and warm as a small bird. Cathy was breathing a little faster than normal now, and he wondered with some amusement whether she was putting on. It could be real. She had learned to like sex. There was nothing else she could do if she wanted to get through the tricks. She couldn't float through all of them on a cloud of narcotics. Bart leaned down and covered her breast with his mouth.
There was a knock at the door.
Bart looked at the clock on the wall. It had to be Angela. To make sure, he called, "Who is it?"
"It's Angela, Bart," a voice said through the thick wood. "Can I-"
"Come on," Bart said disgustedly. The door opened and she came in, looking worried, afraid she might have done something wrong, something to offend him. She was supposed to come here right after school, of course. She and Cathy didn't come together any more, because Bart didn't want them to attract any more attention than necessary. Two beautiful girls walking together over the same path every day could draw too much notice. So they came separately, and used different routes every day.
Cathy drew a little away from Bart and went about the task of stuffing her tit back into its container. She looked a bit put off by the intrusion, but not embarrassed. She and Angela knew they were both available to Bart any time he wanted them.
Angela looked embarrassed, but it was the same kind of embarrassment she might have shown if she had walked in on someone in the bathroom. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I can go back out, if-"
"Shut the door, will you?" Bart said. He gave Cathy a shove, and she got off his lap abscntmindedly, still buttoning up her sweater.
Bart went to the drawer and got out the needles and junk and carried them over to the desk. "Come on, girls, it's that time." They hurried to him. Cathy got in front and hiked her skirt up. She pushed her panties down and bent over slightly. Bart swabbed her cheek with alcohol and thrust the needle in, not bothering to be too careful about it. She jerked a bit, then relaxed as he pressed the plunger. Bart could see her body soften as the heroin ran into it. He pulled the needle and held the cotton against her ass for a moment. "Here," he said, and she placed a hand there to hold it in place. Bart turned to Angela, found her already holding her skirt up. Her pants were at hall-mast. He picked up the other cotton and needle and repeated the performance. Angela let out an audible sigh as the horse ran into her. Cathy was already pulling her panties back up. Bart put the needles away and took out the little ledger book. He chalked up the new amounts for both of them. They watched him do it without interest. They were already too dreamy to care about something like that. That was a big help. They never worried about the debt right after a fix. It was later, when it was too late, that they thought about that. And still later, when they needed the fix, they were unconcerned with it again. Then the only thing that mattered to them was the fix itself. And after they got it, the cycle started all over again. He looked at the amounts and smiled. They were getting in deeper and deeper. The deal he had made with Cathy was meaningless, of course. The cost of the heroin was paltry compared to the amount she made for him. And as for the amount he charged her, that was a myth. He didn't expect to get any of it. If she thought she was doing herself some good getting a few free rides, or having some numbers subtracted in the ledger, that was fine with him. She'd be in debt to him for as long as he wanted her. And when she was no longer of any use to him, well, time to think of that later.
"All right," he said, when they were both completely dressed again. "I've work for both of you today." He took a slip of paper out of a desk drawer and handed it to Cathy. "This guy asked for a blonde, so you're it, baby."
"Uh-huh." She took the paper, glanced at it.
"You got the address now?" he asked. "You sure you've got it?"
"Sure, baby. I'm not that high."
"Well, you'd better get there, or you won't be high any more. Understand?" He could see that sink in, and then he could see her drag herself back down. She looked at the paper again, more carefully. It was obvious she was making an effort to get through her fog and concentrate.
"Okay, Bart," she said finally. "I've got it. I won't forget."
"Okay," he said. He looked at the clock. "You better hustle your ass over there right now." He held out his hand, and she put the paper in it. Bart crumpled the paper and dropped it on the desk top. He'd burn it later. Cathy blew him a kiss, giggled and started for the door.
"Bye, Angela," she said, as though just remembering her manners.
"Hm?" Angela asked, but Cathy was already closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry I barged in in the middle of things, Bart," Angela said.
"That's all right. It's just as well. She had to get going. But you don't have to leave for an hour or so, baby."
"Okay." It took a moment for his meaning to penetrate her euphoria. "Oh, then we get to spend some time together. That's fine, Bart."
Bart took her hand. It was tiny and cool to the touch. She smiled at him with a shy look in her eye. He wondered if she was just putting the shyness on, or if it was a by-product of the junk he had just shot into her. But of course she didn't try to hang back when he drew her toward the bedroom. She followed with all the docility of a trained animal. Trained bitch, he thought, and chuckled.
"What's funny?" she asked dreamily.
"You wouldn't get it," he said, and laughed again.
She didn't bother to ask him again. A junky wasn't likely to be bothered by too much curiosity. That was one of the nice things about them, he thought.
"Okay, baby, why don't you get out of those clothes now, while I watch?"
She giggled and started to undress. She still had that attitude about her, the same as when she had started with him, of sharing a slightly naughty secret. He had a feeling that she was putting it on at this point. She was like any good whore. She had learned an act. With Cathy it was a kind of shyness, a nice-girl-but-I-can't-resist-you act. It was very attractive to the Johns. But so was Angela's aren't-we-being-naughty-you-and-I act. Either one was likely to inflame a man's passions, especially coming from two young girls like Angela and Cathy.
Yes, he thought, watching Angela's loveliness emerge from her clothing, she was a good whore. They both were. He didn't brook any nonsense. Any time one of them got a complaint, it came out of her fee. Half of the fee was deducted. He told them he did it because he had to give part of the money back to the Johns, which was just barely true. If a customer was really pissed off, he would give the guy his money back, or part of it, because that was better than having someone walking around mad at you when you were in an illegal business. But that was rare. He had only had to do that once in Cathy's case, and never in Angela's. Usually the complaints consisted of some simple little statement like, "She was great, Bart, but she froze up once on me, and it took a couple of minutes for her to loosen up again." Or "She was fine, except I had to talk like a Dutch uncle to get her to french me. She finally did it, though, and a great job."
That kind of complaint was enough to cost a girl twenty-five of her fifty-dollar fee. It was necessary to keep on a junky all the time. They were likely to relax otherwise. But if you kept after them, and kept them on edge about their next fix, they were the best whores in the world. They worked cheap, and they would do anything any man wanted. They needed the fix worse than a normal girl needed to eat. And it was a nice ring through the nose to lead them around.
Angela was down to her bra and panties now. She reached behind her and started to struggle with the clasps. "Come here, baby," Bart said. "I'll do that for you."
"Okay," she said, with that little saucy drawl in her voice. It set Bart's pecker to twitching. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, where he had been watching her undress. Now he watched her approach him, widened his legs to let her stand in between them. She turned her back on him and bent her knees slightly to bring her bra clasps down in a comfortable reach. She didn't have to bend them very much, because she was so tiny.
Bart unfastened the clasps quickly. As the bra opened, moving forward under the thrust of her breasts, Bart reached forward and circled her with his arms. He took her breasts in his hands and pulled her back against him. She lay there against him, soft and warm and all but naked. She turned her head as far as she could, and he felt her breath, warm and fragrant, on his face. He leaned forward and, turning his face toward hers, kissed her on the lips. Her mouth opened obligingly, and he tasted the sweetness of her tongue. His cock was iron hard. He buried his face in the thick loveliness of raven hair that hung loose down her back. Then his hands moved down the length of her body and slipped under the elastic of her tiny, thin panties. Her ass, warm and soft and bulbous, nestled into his palms for a moment, and then he slid his hands around in front of her to feel the real goodies. She gave a little shudder, a squirm of pleasure and her head twisted around again to kiss. He obliged her, even as his hands pushed her panties down past her hips and let them drop to the carpet. They lay in a puddle of pink nylon around her ankles.
She was still standing in that crooked-knee stance, and now she straightened her legs. "I don't think I could stand like that much longer, honey," she said, and turned to face him. She was really a breathtaking sight, and so tiny and dark and naked, her breasts firm and large for her size, her big brown eyes shining in the dimness of the bedroom. "You want anything special, honey?" she asked. Bart was about to tell her no, when he realized he hadn't had either of them do something special for him in a long time. He nodded.
"Give me a kiss," he said. "And you know where I mean." She gave him that naughty-but-nice smile again and fell to her knees without hesitation. She made the move gracefully, like a cat, without making any sound. She reached up and opened his pants with tiny hands. She pulled the zipper all the way down, and then opened the top button. The pants fell away, revealing his shorts. Angela looked up at him questioningly.
"You want me to pull it out, or do you want to slip them down, or what?" In answer, he hoisted his ass off the bed and pushed his shorts down past his hips. Pants and shorts fell to the floor, wadded about his ankles, and he sat on the bed again, coming down hard. Angela snuggled up against him, wedging her little body between his thighs, and took his cock in her hands. At the touch of her fingers, it was all the stiffer. She smiled up at him again, and then ducked her head. Her hair fell caressingly across his belly and thighs, hiding his cock, and her face and head, from his gaze. Then he felt something warm and moist trace across the head of his cock. Her tongue moved slowly, softly, caressing the tender skin, leaving it wet. The cock stiffened even more, until it pained him. Bart trembled suddenly, and made a little grunting sound. Then he reached down and took her shoulders in his hands. He gripped her hard, while she continued to lick his cock. The sensations grew in him with each passage of that soft, pink tongue over his glans. Then she began to move her tongue up the length of his shaft, and he gave another little cry, this time in surprise. It felt great, and he relaxed his hold on Angela's shoulders and lay back on the bed, letting her do all the work. Her tongue worked on him diligently. From time to time she stopped for a moment, gathering saliva, he supposed, and giving her tongue muscles a rest. Then she resumed the licking, and after a while began to move around a little. She licked his balls and his crotch and his abdomen, exciting him more every moment.
"You want me to stop in time to do it the regular way, or do you want to go off in my mouth, honey?" she asked. The question almost made him go off right then.
"Keep going," he grunted. "All the way."
"Mmm," she said appreciatively, and dived back to her work. It didn't take long after that. In a moment, while she was rocking back and forth on her knees, dragging warm, pursed lips back and forth across his glans, his cock trembled, then his whole belly, a signal that he was about to come. She tightened her lips a little and accelerated her rocking motion, whipping the pleasure to the peak of intensity, and then Bart's cock erupted. She slipped her mouth over as much of the cock as she could and held it there, caressing her tongue over it, and then as the come spurted into her mouth she swallowed it quickly, expertly.
Bart gave a series of grunts as his cock spit into Angela's mouth, and his body jerked with it. Then it was over, and he lay there, his body limp with satisfaction.
"All right, up and at 'em, kid. Fun time is over. Time to go earn your keep," Bart said after a while. Angela had been lying next to him, eyes closed, apparently asleep. He had to keep her on the ball.
She looked up at him, and for just a moment he saw a flash of resentment in her eyes. But she covered it quickly. She got up and went into the bathroom. After a moment Bart heard the shower running. He always kept shower caps and all the little things a girl needed to keep dainty, so that they would be able to fuck for him and then go out to their assignments fresh and attractive. When he was certain she was cleaning herself up, he put on his robe and went into the living room. He took out the slip with the name and address of her John on it and poured himself a drink. He smiled to himself, thinking of the money these two girls were earning for him this afternoon. They would pull in five hundred bucks for him today, and he had them lined up to pull in about two hundred apiece, every day, for the next three weeks.
The shower was turned off, and he heard Angela moving around in the bedroom. He glanced at his watch and decided there was time for another go-round with her before she had to shower again and leave. Hell, why not? He owned her, and she knew it. He took another pull on his drink and put the slip of paper back in the desk drawer. It's a great life, he thought.
It took Cathy two weeks to line someone up. She came to Bart with mixed emotions. He had learned to read both the girls like books. She was pleased to be able to give her lord and master what he wanted, but her conscience was still bothering her.
"His name is Doug Radcliffe," she said. "He goes to Saint Ignatius. It's a sort of companion school with ours, and they bring the boys over to join us in dancing classes once a week."
"Is he someone the girls like?"
"Oh yes. Any girl in the school would give her chances of graduating just to be his girl. He's an athlete. Football, basketball, baseball, track-"
"Yeah, yeah. Okay. So he's a B.M.O.C. right?"
"A what?"
"A Big Man On Campus."
"That's right. He's only a junior, but he's the president of the student body. He's the most popular boy in school, and the most admired."
"Sounds great. And he asked you for a date?"
"Uh-huh. He wants to take me out to a movie or something."
"Great. Ask him to take you to a drive-in. Then get lovey-dovey. Do you think he's the aggressive type where girls are concerned?"
"I don't think so. He seems to me to be a-a gentleman." She said the last word wistfully, as though wishing for something she could never have again.
"Then you'll have to make him aggressive. Sit real close to him. Melt all over him. Reach across him to adjust the speaker. Whatever it takes. But get him to make the first move. Then let him go as far as he wants. If he starts to get scared and pull back, you see that he gets encouraged. I want him to get into your pants. Got that?"
"Yes, Bart." She dropped her eyes.
"But get this, too. It's just as important. I want it to seem to him that it was his idea, not yours. He has to think he seduced you. If he's the kind of gentleman you think, that should worry him, and make him more vulnerable. So get laid, but make it look like his fault. Pull all the tricks you have to. Be innocent and helpless with the big brute of a male. Hell, you know the bit. You're very good at it."
"All right, honey."
"When you going out with him?"
"I told him to call me. I knew I'd have to clear a night with you."
"Don't worry about that. If we have to disappoint a client, that's the way it goes. This is important. I suppose he'll want to take you out on a weekend, huh?"
"I guess."
Bart looked at his calendar. "Well, the sooner the better. I got you down for an afternoon trick and an evening one this Saturday. We'll cancel the evening one. Maybe Angela can squeeze it in. When he calls you up, you tell him you had a date this Saturday, but you're willing to break it for him. That ought to boost his morale a lot. And it's the truth, too." Bart laughed, and Cathy managed to force a smile. "Cheer up, baby. This is going to earn you some free rides, remember? Don't worry about-"
"Doug Radcliffe."
"Yeah. Don't worry about him. He'd do the same thing if the situation were the other way around. And I mean to prove it." Bart laughed again, with real enjoyment. This was just the kind of thing the business needed.