Chapter 3

It's amazing how a guy's cock can shrink up when he's scared. Spud felt his rod and his balls shrivel.

One of the cops opened the door of the police car, slowly unfolded his long legs, and got out.

"Hey, kid, what's the rush?" he asked, coming up to Spud. "Don't you know there's a law against speeding?"

Spud's heart had sunk to his shoes. The relief that came made him so weak he wanted to puke. He couldn't believe it! A mere speeding ticket!

He gave a sigh as the two cops ordered him to leave his car parked at the curb and ride with them to City Hall.

As he climbed the steps of the old stone building, he kept reminding himself how lucky he was. He'd get off with a lecture, and maybe a small fine. He had five dollars in his pocket. He'd be out of there and on his way home in less than no time.

His fright had sobered him, and, as his mind cleared, he realized Frani would be too proud to tell on him. He hadn't a thing to worry about.

The taller of the two cops pushed open an inner door. Spud stood uncertainly in a large, bare room with a high ceiling. He blinked under the harsh, garish light which struck his eyes like a blow.

The door banged shut. A stocky man in shirt sleeves, who'd been propped against the wall, shot up and opened his sleepy eyes. Spud hesitated, but when the man didn't speak, he limped on past him and up to the counter-like desk on a platform at the far end of the room.

Over it leaned another shirt-sleeved individual.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

Spud looked up uneasily, then dropped his gaze to his shoes. Finally, he looked back at the two officers who had brought him in. They motioned for him to speak. He turned again to the man at the high desk.

"I - I guess I was speeding, sir," he managed timidly.

"Guess?" the man at the desk asked. "Guess? Don't you know?"

"No, sir," Spud muttered. "I mean, yes, sir, I was speeding."

He waited, shaking inside. It seemed that everybody in the room was grinning at him.

The man behind the desk waited for Spud to continue.

"I was just riding around for fresh air," he got out at last. "Any law against that?" His anger was beginning to give him confidence.

The judge behind the desk frowned and leaned forward, spreading his elbows elaborately over the desk.

Spud was getting excited. "Look, mister, I'm not lying. I've no reason to lie. I admit I was speeding -" The man behind the desk smiled. "Did you have a girl with you?" he asked.

"No!" Spud said. "I was alone!"

"That a fact?"

"You can ask them cops!"

The man ignored that. "This your first offense?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Spud said quickly.

"Let's see your driver's license."

Spud pulled his billfold from the hip pocket of his patched jeans. He wore a T-shirt. He took out his driver's license and handed it up to the man.

The man looked at it.

"Gilbert Jamison," he said. "You Bert Jamison's boy?"

Spud hated to admit it. "Yes, sir," he said. "I know your father."

Spud thought maybe he should feel relief. Then he figured that knowing his old man was no first-rate recommendation. He was so scared he could hardly speak.

The man turned to the two cops who had brought Spud in. "How fast was he going?" he asked.

"Sixty in a thirty-mile zone, Your Honor," one of the cops said.

The judge clicked his tongue. "Good thing no little kids were playing in the street!"

Spud was staring at a stain on the wall above the judge's head. Little kids had no business playing in the street, he thought. He wished the guy would stop trying to make a criminal case out of it.

"I didn't kill anybody, did I?" Spud flared. "It's not fair to hold me like this!"

The man drew back in sudden anger.

He turned to the man propped against the wall. "All right, Corny, you can make it fifteen bucks."

Spud spoke uncertainly while the judge looked down at him. "I - I don't have but five bucks -" "That so?"

"Yes."

"Well, you go along with Corny."

The man called Corny led him down a long corridor and into a small room. There was nothing in the room but a desk with an uncovered typewriter on it, and two straight chairs. Corny closed the door, then invited Spud to sit down. He pulled one of the chairs up to the typewriter. His voice was pleasant enough when he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and offered Spud a smoke.

"Smoking helps the nerves," he advised. "You are edgy, ain't you?"

Spud accepted the cigarette and admitted that he was.

The man struck a match, offered Spud a light, then used the match himself. After Spud blew smoke, he began to feel better. He said again that he had just five bucks.

"The boss said fifteen," Corny reminded. He leaned back and puffed genially on his cigarette.

Then he leered into Spud's face. "You like to jab the girls with that thing, don't you, kid?" He grinned as he touched Spud's cock. "Je-zus, a girl gets her crack filled with what you've got, kid!"

"I do all right!" Spud said angrily, brushing the hand away and pulling back. "You sure got a nice rod." "Yeah -" Corny made a kissing sound with his lips. "I'd like to blow your socks off."

Spud's cock was rising, in spite of himself. The way Corny was acting made him. restless. He'd never had a blow job from a guy, but he figured it might be better than jerking off.

And it might give him the chance he needed to get out of that goddamned place. He shrugged and said, "What will you give me for a lick on my lollipop?"

"What do you want, kid?" "The keys to get out of this goddamned nest!"

Corny looked disappointed. "I can't do nothing about that, kid." He stuck some paper into the typewriter and said, "Listen, now, you just answer a few questions. It won't amount to a thing."

Spud saw that Corny's cock was trying to push out of his pants. The guy was really hot. He gave Corny his name, age, and street address. When Corny wanted to know his phone number, he begged, "You won't call my old man, will you?"

"Well, son," Corny drawled, "somebody's got to pay your fine or they'll throw you in jail."

Haltingly, Spud asked, "Ain't there no other way?"

Corny rubbed his fly. Then he reached again for Spud's cock. "Can I heat it up a little?" he asked.

Spud spread his legs and let Corny take his prick out of his pants as he leaned back. His cock was only at half-mast, but Corny squeezed it gently and it hardened in his hand. "That's the goddamndest cock I ever seen!" he exclaimed, his eyes bugging out at the rod Spud had. "Shit, you must have eight and a half inches! I ain't never seen one so big! Bet you make the girls squeal!"

Spud thought: I'll stick it up your goddamned ass and let you find out! He said, "Some of them squeal a little, but they sure as hell like it up their snatch!"

Corny grinned, then pressed his mouth against the knob of Spud's dick. He went down right to the hairs around Spud's prick. His mouth wasn't tight, but it was hot. Spud sat there and grinned.

"You like it?" he asked.

"Love it!"

Spud got his gun off. It wasn't too exciting, but he made it come, squirting cream deep into Corny's throat. Then he wiped his hands and his cock on his handkerchief.

Corny had his own cock out and was jacking off. Spud watched, disgusted. Corny shot his wad in the waste paper basket.

Spud asked, "What was my lollipop worth?"

"Hell, man, that thing's priceless! Like I said, I ain't never seen one so big!"

Corny turned again to the typewriter after he'd zipped up his flap. All business again, he asked, "Now how fast was you travelin', do you think?"

Spud repeated what the cops had said. "Sixty in a thirty mile zone," he said.

Corny typed away with two fingers. He stopped typing, got up, and went out into the corridor. Spud sat there and sweat out the seconds, feeling frustrated, wondering how he was going to make Corny pay for the suck on his prick.

Corny returned, looking disappointed. "Couldn't get nobody," he told Spud. "Seems like nobody's home at your house."

"You goddamned cocksucker!" Spud swore. "You trying to double-cross me?"

"Take it easy," Corny advised. "I had a little plan to try on your pa. But he ain't at home.

Trust me, kid. Ill get you out of this."

Spud suddenly remembered it was his parents' bridge night. Maybe it was a break for him. He didn't ask Corny about his little plan, but Corny's mention of it made him feel better.

Corny got a pained expression on his face, but he still spoke kindly. "I'm sorry, kid, but I got to lock you up till we find your old man. Don't you worry none -" "You mean - you'll put me in jail?" Spud's heart pounded hurtingly against his ribs. He'd never felt such a sense of physical impotence in his life. How could a guy defend himself when he was locked behind bars?

"I ain't gonna lock you in them regular cells," Corny said.

He led Spud to another small room, similar to the one they'd been in. He told Spud to go on in, and when he did, he locked the door on him. Spud was the only person in the room, and it was lonely.

His anger and fear made him shake all over, like he had a chill. He glanced up at the single bulb which hung from a wire and only faintly lighted the room. He heard the grind of shoes on the concrete outside as Corny walked away. Sickened by the room's musty odors, Spud stood there and wondered what would happen to him.

His legs ached, and his groin still hurt from the punishment Frani had given him. He went over to the one small window and looked out into the night, feeling a peculiar gathering in his throat. Only with effort did he keep his retching down.

At last, he lay on the hard floor and tried to sleep. He kept wondering if Corny really had a plan to help him. Supposing he'd tried to call his folks again? Perhaps his pop was pacing the floor, cursing, refusing to help him out. He knew his mom would be weeping.

The floor was hard, and he couldn't relax. He wished Corny would return and tell him what was going on, at least. And then he didn't. He didn't want Corny groping his basket again. His pop, of course, would blame him for everything, like he always did. His mom would end up with one of her migraine headaches. Neither of them had an ounce of faith in him. It was that goddamned generation gap that separated them!

He dozed off, finally.

He must have been dreaming. He was with Bryce Griffin, the guy who owned the ice house. Bryce had a devilish gleam in his eyes and was always ready with a hard cock for a romp with some filly.

Spud had felt proud and grown-up whenever he double-dated with Bryce. Bryce was about thirty and knew the ropes.

One evening, just before closing time, a couple of girls showed up at the ice plant. Bryce said an ice house was no place for a hot cunt and suggested they all go for a ride after he closed up.

They did.

They'd ended up in one of the girl's apartments. Spud had followed Bryce and the two girls up some stairs. After they were in the apartment, somebody closed the door and locked it. One look at Bryce's face told Spud what was going to happen. He already had his hard tool out, and the girl he was fooling with didn't put up a fight. She just led him by his dick into the bedroom.

Spud sat on the divan beside the other girl. She said her name was Dolly. He didn't want to appear like a yokel just off the boat, but he suddenly felt clumsy. He grabbed her, and when his hands started playing games with her soft tits, she seemed all shook up.

"Spud, what's eatin' you?" she asked. She moved to the far side of the divan.

"Nothing," he said. He was beside her in a flash, again going for her tits.

"N-O spells no!" she yelled at him.

The angry sound of her voice made him jump. "I - I thought you liked me," he said.

"I do, kid. But don't work so fast. You got to let a girl get ready -" Spud felt better. He went easy, and she let him get under her blouse, all the way to her skin. He played with her tits, rolling their tips between his fingers. It wasn't until he tried to unzip her skirt that she stopped him again.

"Please, Spud - not that."

Spud was reaching the boiling point. His cock throbbed in his pants, and he had to put it somewhere. But the girl puzzled him, and caution warned him that good sex was one thing. But he didn't feature rape.

"What cooled you off?" Spud demanded.

"I like you, Spud," she said, sounding sincere. She groped and caught his prick in her hand. "Shit, you've got a big one!" she praised. "I'd like to let you stick it to me, but I can't-" Spud's mind was pretty bungled. He couldn't understand why Dolly was acting that way.

Bryce and his heifer came out of the bedroom. They both looked fucked out.

"What the hell's eatin' you?" Bryce's broad demanded of her friend.

Spud wondered then if Dolly were saving it for Bryce. He found out differently.

"Only a bum would go to bed with a married man!" Dolly exclaimed. Then she turned the knife a little harder. "Bryce belongs to his wife and three kids, not to a tramp like you!"

The girls really began clawing at each other. Spud's throat choked up, and his brain went numb. He hadn't known that Bryce was a married man.

He hadn't known much about a girl having her monthly period, either. He found out that was what was really bugging Dolly.

He woke up there on the hard floor, thinking it wasn't such a bright idea for Bryce to cheat on his little woman.

That kind of activity was for single men.

He got up from the floor and leaned against the gray wall. He let the minutes tick away. Coach had forbidden him to smoke, but he wished he had another cigarette, anything to keep down the miserable feeling he had.

The door opened.

Spud looked, expecting to see Corny. It was a stranger who stepped inside and told Spud to follow him.

The next thing Spud knew, he was in a room filled with photographic equipment. A second man in a blue uniform smiled and invited him to sit down. This guy seemed genuinely friendly, but Spud was afraid to trust anyone. The fellow adjusted the belt on his blue police uniform, then began messing with some photographic equipment.

He turned to Spud and seemed to be studying him. "You're a good-looking boy," he praised. "First offense? No police record?"

"No, sir!" Spud said emphatically.

The man was young and nice-looking himself. When he came to the desk near Spud and sat down, Spud noted how clean his hands were. There was nothing cold or severe in his manner, and Spud began to warm up to him.

The young man swung around to a typewriter and began asking the same questions Spud had already answered.

"You go to school?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Valley High."

The man stopped typing. Facing Spud squarely, he exclaimed, "Holy Christ, you know Coach Nichols? He's a friend of mine. Play football, by any chance?"

Spud said that he did.

The man's gaze went quickly to the information Spud had given him. Looking back at Spud in amazement, he said enthusiastically, "Spud Jamison! I didn't recognize you by that Gilbert handle! Coach thinks you play a mean game!"

"He won't anymore," Spud said dully. "Not if they keep me here and I miss Friday night's game."

The man went ahead and took Spud's photo. "I'm Jake Sears," he said. He pressed a button, then added, "Well, that's it. You'll have to go back."

"Back where?" Spud asked.

Jake patted his arm. "To wherever you came from. But don't worry, Spud. This is all going to work out."

"Yeah, like they say to the bride, 'May your troubles be little ones!' " Jake's voice was gentle, and Spud wished he could stay in the photography room.

But a man appeared and took him back to the lonesome room where he'd been. The room was dark and degrading now. Again, Spud lay on the floor and tried to sleep. He must have, too, for a long time later, he opened his eyes to realize that musty daylight was filtering into the room.

He felt hungry. When he heard somebody rattle the door, he hoped it was someone bringing him food. The door opened, and a familiar voice called his name.

"Coach!" Spud cried, rushing to him.

Coach patted his shoulder. "Take it easy, Spud," he said. "Everything's going to be okay."

But Spud kept jabbering a mile a minute.

Coach let him run down.

"I'm sorry I heard about this so late," he apologized. "A friend of mine in the photo department just called me."

"Jake Sears!" Spud cried.

"Yeah," Coach said.

Spud had confidence in Coach. Coach was an influential man around town. As they started down the long corridor together, Spud thought of his folks and shuddered. Had they been notified? He was sure now that the fellow called Corny hadn't done a thing to help him out. When he got home, he'd catch holy hell.

Coach led him into the large room where the cops had brought him the night before. He looked around for that prick-licking Corny. Corny wasn't there.

But the same old judge gave Coach a warm grin, then smiled at Spud. Spud was thinking of touching Coach for the money to pay his fine.

But no fine was mentioned.

The judge nodded them out. No charges of any kind!

They started to leave.

"Wait a minute," the judge said.

Spud's breath caught.

"You get in there Friday night, young man, and win that game!" the judge ordered, winking down playfully at Spud.

"Yes, sir!" Spud promised.

"Them dumb scoundrels," Coach said on their way out of the room. "How do they think I can win a conference game with my best player locked up in jail?"

Coach drove him out to pick up his car.

"Were you out after a piece of ass last night?" Coach asked.

Spud didn't want to tell him about Frani.

"Naw," he said.

"Well, forget everything," advised Coach. "It's all over."

"Like shit!" Spud growled. "I've still got Mom and Pop to face."