Chapter 10
Mona was sitting in the deep cushioned leather couch of the library when her uncle's business partner arrived. She could hear his voice rough and demanding in the hallway as he demanded to speak to her. Her head ached from hitting the ground so hard, but the desire to see someone who might have known her uncle very well spurred her to call out to the protesting Owen who wanted her to be left in peace.
"It's all right, Owen. If he's a friend of my uncle's I want to see him."
"Okay. But he betteh make it fast. I want him off this island befoh the storm gets heah."
The young man ushered in the stranger, a short, stocky man with a bald head and bouncing jowls that made him look like an angry bulldog. His teeth were yellowed from too many cigarettes and one hung, stuck to his bottom lip, as he talked out of the side of his mouth.
"You Ramona Jahn?" he queried, his piercing blue eyes tiny and penetrating, surveyed her critically.
She shrunk back into the couch with the sensation a female often feels when a man gives her the scathing look that undresses her to, in his mind, better see her. She folded her arms across her breast as if to hide herself and drew her legs under her.
"Yes," she answered evenly. "What is it that you want?"
"Just got back from a business trip that took too long. Lawyers tol' me Hecht's dead. Real blow!
Been workin' together for years, me'n him."
"Oh, I wasn't told what type of business he was in," returned Mona. "I guess they thought it wasn't necessary."
"Yeah, like they thought it wasn't necessary to inform me or my New York office," fumed the man pacing around the room poking at the book-lined shelves.
"I'm sorry, but you still haven't told me what business you're in."
"Ain't important! What's important is that I want this island," he said in his fast clipped manner as if he were in a hurry. "Half of it's mine by rights, Hecht stayed here as sort of a caretaker. Be willin' to pay you reasonable for his half."
Ramona was taken back at his rambling dialogue. He was a man who knew what he wanted and wasted no time in making sure he got it.
"What if I don't wish to sell, sir?"
"That's ridiculous! What does a young girl like you want a stinkin' mud hole like this for?" he replied gesturing round him. "You gotta be kiddin' if you think you want this place."
"Then what makes it of interest to you?" demanded Owen. "If you'hr down in New Yohk, what do you want it for?"
"Ain't none o' your concern, buddy!" rasped the man, jabbing a finger in the younger man's direction. "This transaction's between me 'n the lady. Now butt out!"
Owen's face drained of color and he stood silently watching Mona for a decision from her. The girl could see he was anxious for her to give him the motion to throw the man out. But she wasn't ready. She had to know about her uncle.
More, she wanted to know why the island was so important to him and the others and so ridiculous for her to keep.
"He's a friend of mine," she told the man. "Any business affairs that concern me at the moment concern him as well. Owen is just watching out for me."
"Yeah? Well, he don't have to now. My business here can be short 'n sweet if ya listen to reason."
"I'm listening," she said. "Now explain to me why you want the island so much that I don't need it."
"Look, babe," the man said coming to stand beside the couch and make his point clear. "You're a kid, a young chick. You got a big future in cities like New York or Boston. I can set you up with the right kinda dough and you'll be swinging. Stick with this pile o' dirt and you'll be scrapin' to pay the taxes. You'll die young with no real men to treat you good 'n havin' to kill yourself to meet the tax payments on this place."
"And what makes this place so valuable to you?" demanded Owen.
"Now look, junior. I tol' you to keep your mouth shut 'n I meant it!" croaked the man wrenching his cigarette from his mouth and punctuating the air with it. "This is between me 'n the little lady."
"How do I know you're my uncle's partner?" interrupted Mona. "No one ever told me about his business."
"It wasn't none o' your concern," the man told her. "Besides, them lawyers done a half-arsed job of this thing. If they'd checked with me they woulda known this ant hill belongs to me, not you."
"But you said you were willing to pay me for my half of the land!"
"That was before you proved such an unreasonable woman," he snorted. "Was doin' the ol' man a favor to offer you dough for what wasn't yours in the first place. You know, in memory of our friendship 'n all that. But you ain't cooperating. Come to do you a favor 'n you spit in my face so I'll have to take the place myself."
"Look, you haven't got any right to talk to her like that!" fumed Owen stepping up to the couch. "You haven't even presented youhr credentials. How do we know who you are? You could be just some troublemaker up heah to-!"
"You punk!" yelled the man. "Ain't nobody ever taught you to keep your mouth shut around things that weren't none o' your affair? How many times I gotta tell you it's up to me 'n the doll here!"
Owen looked at Mona askance, beseeching her silently with his eyes for permission to throw the man out. She was grateful for his presence and support, but she couldn't let him throw the man out just yet.
"What did you say your name was?" she asked turning to the man.
"Didn't!" he snarled and began pacing about the room again with Owen following him with his eyes warily. "It's Earl Conner, if it makes a hell o' lot o' difference to you! By rights this island is mine!"
He stopped by the desk and banged his fist resoundingly on the mahogany surface. His face was red with anger when he turned to face them, his cigarette dripping from his jaw and his steel gray-blue eyes ablaze.
"Death of my partner legally reverts full possession of this island to me! Ya get that? Unnerstan'! I got the law on my side!"
"Well, perhaps you'd better see the lawyers then and tell them that," Mona told him, hoping her voice was steadier than her nerves. "They think this place belongs to me and they're the ones practicing law around here."
"Think you're smart, eh?" bellowed the irate man.
"No," Mona said evenly. "I think you'd be smart if you checked with the law that's on 'your side' though. As soon as you've established legal ownership I'll be glad to remove myself from the premises and forget this places existed."
The little man regarded her suspiciously as he asked, "You got some ace up your sleeve? Why you actin' so calm about this?"
"You want me to behave like an hysterical female?" she queried coyly.
"Just act normal! That's all!"
There was a half-smile on Mona's face as Owen moved around the couch to stand between them.
"Are you finished?" he asked over his shoulder. "Would you like him to leave yet?"
"Yes," returned Mona wearily. "If Mr. Conner doesn't wish to discuss my uncle or their business, there's nothing more I want to talk to him about."
"Sure?"
"Positive! Good-bye, Mr. Conner. It was kind of you to stop by to pay your respects for my uncle."
"We're not through yet, little lady!"
"Miss Jahn says that you are," Owen intervened. "And as she is the hostess here you'll have to leave."
"We'll see about that!" stormed the older man as he stomped over to the couch where Mona still sat.
Owen stepped up to the man and cut off his approach to the girl.
"You heard what she said," he warned the man. "Good-bye, Mr. Connah."
"Con-ner!" shouted the man. "And you ain't seen the last of me!"
"As soon as you've seen the lawyers, Mr. Conner," Mona said sweetly.
"I don't need no lawyers to take what's mine, lady. And don't you forget it!"
"Are you threatening Miss Jahn?" demanded Owen, glowering down at Conner.
"Threatening? Hell, no. Ain't no court in the world that could use that as a threat to what happens to illegal squatters," said the man looking around Owen to the young woman on the couch. "Remember, Miss Jahn. No such thing as squatters rights no more. You press me 'n you'll see what I mean."
"Good day, Mr. Conner!" she said evenly.
"I'll be back!" yelled the man as he turned on his heel and left the room. "For you, little lady, the day's just begun."
The echo of the slamming door resounded through the house and Owen went to the front bay windows to make sure the man was really leaving.
"You suppose he really meant all that?" asked Mona.
"He won't hurt you," answered Owen. "I'll see to that."
"I'm scared, Owen," she said with emotion.
"Why does he want this place so bad when he says such bad things about it? And what did he meant that the day had just begun?"
"I don't know, but I don't want to take any chances," said Owen, turning to face her with a frown. "I'm taking you into the village for the night."
"No, Owen."
"Look, Mona. There's no sense in taking foolish chances out here with a man like that," argued Owen, striding towards her. "He looks pretty dangerous to me."
"But this is my place!" Mona said, rising from the couch. "If I leave, it's admitting defeat."
"It's admitting common sense," he returned. "You want to be safe, don't you? Live to tell youhr grandchildren about this? Well, then you'hre going into town."
"Do you want me off this island, too?"
"Mona! Listen to reason," he begged. "That man as much as threatened yohr life! Between him, the guy that attacks you in the night, the usual haunts of this damned island, and that storm comin' up, I got a feeling you should be in a safer place than this."
"Owen, I want to trust you!" she cried. "But you're like all the others wanting me off this island. How do I know you're not with them and against me!"
She turned and ran out the door.
"Mona!" he called, following her. "I'm not! Please believe me. I'm with you and no one else."
"How can I know!"
Running blindly up the stairs, she felt desperately alone. Everyone wanted her away from here. The place was good for everyone but Mona. Why? Why couldn't she have something just once? Those she loved were taken from her. Now any possessions she might want were being snatched from her.
The upstairs was dark. Already the shadows were fanning through the hallway with the bedroom doors closed. Everything was so quiet, as if the house were a tomb. She was all alone. A storm was coming. She was alone with the treacherous lady of the island who wailed the lonely hours of the night on the widow's walk. Alone to face the attacking intruder who came in the night. Alone to face the fulfilled threats of Conner, her uncle's partner. Alone!
Her legs were weak beneath her. Her flesh was cold. She was trembling uncontrollably before she reached the top step and she felt her heart in her throat. It was hard and strangling lump that wouldn't yield to her swallowing, but ached all the more. The fear of her thumping heart clawed at her flesh, raking it icily into welts of shivering bumps. She seemed suspended above a fathomless abyss of black and unknown terror. Only to await the snapping of the fine thread that held her there, she quivered with dread at the fall beneath her.
"Oh, God! God!" she murmured, sinking to her knees on the steps.
"Mona!" a voice echoed in the distance. "Mona!"
What does it want? Her mind cried out.
Strong arms encircled her and held her close to a strong hard chest. The voice continued, "Please believe me, Mona! I don't want you hurt. How can I have you if you'hr hurt. Mona, I want you!"
Was it Owen? Was he telling the truth? There was the sound of rushing wind in her ears as sound returned to her in full volume and she could feel her extremities once more. Slowly she opened her eyes. Owen was looking down at her anxiously.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly.
She nodded slowly, but didn't move.
"I told you not to trust me," he told her with a grin. "And now I'm paying the consequences."
"Don't like them, huh?" she responded.
"Watching out foh youhr welfare sure isn't helping mine, let's put it that way," he said with a rueful smile. "Something like 'having youhr cake and eating it, too'. Keeping you safe doesn't exactly mean that I'll eveh get to know you any betteh foh myself."
Mona looked at him, bewildered.
"You women are all alike," he complained, pulling her to her feet and standing beside her. "Like to have things painted in black and white with lots of pretty overtones thrown in."
"Owen . . ." Mona began in a strained tone.
"Shall I demonstrate?" he demanded and pulled her face to his.
His lips were warm and gentle. Once more she seemed to be fading from reality drawn into the secure haven of Owen's arms and mouth. She felt safe here against ghosts, rapist, Conner, and the other evil forces of hate and fear that hurt her physically and emotionally. Never let go, she begged silently. Never let go!
Only vaguely were they aware of the big front door squealing open. It was just a brief moment before loud voices filled the hall.
"Oh, cool! What a fantastic relic!" squeaked a female voice.
"Hey, look up there! Wow!" a husky voice joined in. "That doll's doing great now."
The couple on the stairs looked down into the front hallway. There by the open front door stood Deanna and Yves Saumont. They stood looking up at the two on the stair as if they'd just arrived for a cocktail party.
"Hey com'on, Mon!" called Deanna as she pulled off her spring coat to reveal a pretty, most brief mini-cocktail dress of gold lame. "Introduce your company so we can all get down to having a good time and get-acquainted party!"
Things were at their worst and Deanna had to be there. If her life hadn't already taken a turn to the worst, Mona was sure Deanna would insure its direction at this point.
"Well, com'on, doll!" Yves was insistent. "Four can be more fun than two when you play it right, you know. But then I forget, you're still learning, no?"
"What are you doing here?" asked Mona coming slowly down the stairs.
"And why not?" demanded Deanna as she swooped through the rooms to appraise the premises. "We're friends, aren't we? Decided to thee if any of your ghosts had gotten you."
Wouldn't she ever drop that lisp?
"As you see, I'm perfectly safe," returned Mona as she reached the bottom of the stairway with Owen directly behind her.
"So we noticed!" said Yves with approval while Deanna gave Owen full length survey with her eyes.
Somewhat perturbed, Mona continued, "Owen Hansen, this is Yves Saumont and his girl friend is Deanna de Renta, one time roommate of mine."
"What?" cried the other girl. "Oh, she's joking, of course, Owen. Why we're best friends."
The men shook hands and Deanna bounced over to kiss Owen resoundingly on the mouth. She would have accepted more, but Owen was too chagrined to offer.
"Any friend of Mon's," the girl started to say.
"Any friend, clothes, land, home, furnishings," quipped her friend wryly, "automatically becomes Deanna's and her latest male's by some strange quirk of default."
"Mon! That's not fair!" wailed Deanna with a pout.
"No, it isn't," agreed Ramona. "I don't feel well and I'm very tired so if you'll excuse me . . . Please tell me what it is you want and run along. I don't want to have to worry about you with a storm coming up."
"Storm?" asked the pretty brunette. "It's warm outside. Suffocating for April. You really think it's going to storm?"
She could really be so stupid at times! How was she going to get rid of Deanna and Yves. They'd just complicate her problems.
"Can you explain, Owen?" Mona begged.
"Oh, do! I'd love to hear!" the other girl grabbed his arm and pulled him into the living room to sit on the couch.
Sitting with Owen, curled up beside him like an affectionate kitten, Deanna seemed quite content. Mona wished she could feel so happy. Yves clasped her by the waist and pulled her off the bottom step towards him.
"You really get any action from him?" he queried. "I'm much more fun, no? At least more handsome!"
Really! She thought miserably.
"Yves, don't you understand? I don't feel well!"
"I've just the cure, darling," he told her happily. "You've been too long without. I'll fix you up in no time."
"Yves Saumont, the day you have something else on your mind besides sex I may be glad to see you. However, at the moment, it won't do me a bit of good."
"What are you, a nun!" he cried. "Don't be ridiculous. Everyone thrives on it. Besides, I came to do you a favor."
"Your ideas of favors aren't the same as mine," Mona replied wrenching herself from his grasp and walking away from him.
"You mean you still want this place?"
Mona stopped and faced him.
"If that's what you came for, forget it. I'm not selling to you or anyone else. If it's not a fit place for me, I can't see why anyone else is so anxious to have it."
"But you'd lose on it, baby!" insisted the young man, coming toward her. "Paying taxes and all would drain you. But for me, it would be a moneymaker!"
"As a fun house?" she questioned with a laugh. "A real haunted house? Too bad! Salem and its witches aren't that far away. And there's a big amusement park not far away in Maine, Old Orchard Beach. No, Yves. You can't make a fortune that way."
"Who's talking about kids and haunted houses? This is an amusement center and fun house for men. A real Garden of Eden like my club in New York. A place to go to for the holidays and get away from the wife and kiddies, all the grind of city living. I'll fix up this place and fill it with Eves for the wealthy Adams of the cosmopolitan realm. Even as a winter wonderland this place could be a gas."
"I should have known," said Ramona with a groan. "It just seemed so . . . so-!"
"Hey!" interrupted Deanna, skipping into the hallway, her hand still tightly clutched to Owen's. "This is a swingingly spooky pad!"
"Great, Deanna," Mona returned without enthusiasm.
"You never were a lot of fun," accused the girl. "Maybe that's why he's so dull too. Not even one pass."
"We're strange people up here," said Owen. "If you two want to get out before the sou'-eastah breaks, I suggest you move right away."
"Yo even talk funny," squealed the brunette with a giggle. "Oh, Yves. Can we stay? I've never been in a hurricane before. And in a spooky old house. Wouldn't it be fun?"
"Sure, Mona and I haven't finished our business yet anyway."
"You're mistaken, Yves," Ramona told him. "We have finished our business. And I'm not sure as it's wise for you to stay."
"Oh, you don't mind, Mon!" persisted her friend. "Yves and I are good sports. Just give us a bed. We don't need to be entertained, do we, doll?"
"Why doesn't anyone ever consider asking me what I think?" demanded Mona. "After all, I am the hostess here."
"Oh, Mon, don't be tho thtubborn!"
"Yeah, honey. All my hostesses should be in the nude or with little leaf costumes and very hospitable."
"Ooohhhh!" cried Mona, furious with everyone. Even Owen had stood back and let her face these people alone. "Owen, tell them to leave! Explain the south-easter to them!"
"I'm with you, Mona," he told her. "But I can hear the wind starting. I think it's too late."
"No it can't be!" she protested, running to look out the door.
But there was already someone standing there. The short, jowled partner of her uncle.
"Mr. Conner, I thought you'd gone!"
"Told you I'd be back and I meant it," he said with a grin.
"You see that gray thing out there in the water?" he asked pointing towards the docking area. "That's a cruiser, not a usual private one, but one designed like a coast guard cutter. In other words, it's armed. Do you understand."
Through the silent, stagnant air Mona saw the small yacht with men standing near small gun turrets. She didn't have to be any closer to feel the terror and weight of its threat.
"If that's not enough, we have some friends waiting on the other side of the island," the man continued. "It's a somewhat larger vessel, but if you'd care to see it, I'm sure you'll be amply satisfied that you've been surrounded. Haven't even got a ghost of a chance."
"Wow! How cool!" squealed Deanna from behind Mona. "Not a 'ghost of a chance' in a haunted house. You're great, mister!"
The man paid no attention to her. He was watching Mona's face for her reactions.
"Make up your mind, little lady," he told her. "You got till tomorrow morning at dawn. Got the picture? Leave and sign over all rights to me or pow! I tell those men out there to cut loose."
"You can't do that!" protested Mona. "The villagers can see this island. They'll send out the coast guard before you can do anything."
"Don't count on it, baby," Conner said, chewing on his cigarette. "Storm coming up, remember? A few more minutes and the town won't see nothin' over here. Right now that boat's one of two pleasure craft come to visit you."
"Two?"
"Yeah, kinda looks like you're havin' a party," the man told her with a sly grin.
Yves looked at her sheepishly as she turned to face the others.
"I rented this yacht down below here at a place called Hampton. Some buddy of mine knew about it. We stopped in town to make sure this was the spot and said we'd come out for a party."
"You're with him?" she demanded gesturing to the man behind her.
"Hell, no, honey!" he denied. "Never saw him before. I just came here to sec about buying the island."
"What?" yelled Conner. "Ain't no one gonna buy this island. It's mine! You got that? It's mine!"
"Who're you?" asked Deanna. "None o' your damned business!" shouted the man. "Just remember I'm in charge here. I own this island. Ain't no buyin' or sellin' lessin' I say so!"
"Okay. Okay!" Yves said calmly. "We got the message."
"Now we can make this short and sweet," said Conner. "Little lady, you just sign this little legal paper I got in my pocket and you can all be on your way with no trouble at all. Don't sign it and that gun's trained on this place."
He pulled a folded piece of business stationary from his jacket pocket to show her.
"But if you're in here they won't fire," stated Owen coming over to stand by Mona and read the document.
"Already got that taken care of," retorted the man. "Don't need advice from no squirt like you."
"This turns everything over to you," said Mona, looking up from the paper. "It makes no mention of your 'legal claim' to this island."
"You're just saving me the time and lawyer fees, doll," Conner informed her. "Better sign while I'm in a good mood. Come morning you better be gone 'cause I hate people in the morning."
"Don't threaten her!" demanded Owen.
"Shut up, punk!" spumed the little man, his jowls white and quivering.
Owen grabbed his shirt collar and drew him off his feet, glaring into his eyes. The little man returned the stare evenly.
"Let go or I give the signal right now!" declared Conner frostily.
"Make him stop!" cried Deanna. "Yves, he's going to get us killed!"
"Deanna!" reprimanded Mona as Yves moved forward to intervene.
"Mona, I'm too young to die!" responded the girl. "You may not know how to enjoy life, but I do! And I'm not going to lose out just because of you and your ridiculous notions of right and wrong!"
"No one asked you up here, Deanna!" Mona cried. "You're in danger because of your own stupidity, not mine!"
"Oh, if I'd only convinced them I was you the first time," said the brunette with a sigh. "Then Yves would be building his club and everything would be fine. You might even one day be grateful for what we tried to do."
"Grateful!"
"Your friend ain't gonna get no island no matter how you slice it!" bellowed Conner as he extricated himself from Owen's grip with Yves' help. "The place is mine and that's it!"
"You needn't shout," said Deanna coyly as she sat on the bottom step of the stairs and crossed her legs, hiking her skirt up her thigh. "We understand perfectly. Don't we, Mona? She's going to sign your paper right now, aren't you dear?"
"Since when do you think you can run my life, Deanna de Renta?"
"No one's running it, dear. We're protecting it for your own good."
"Well, I'll' decide that!" Mona said firmly, ripping the paper in half. "There Mr. Conner, give your signal. I have a feeling that the people in this house aren't exactly Noah's ark material. You might as well fire!"
"You can't do away with other lives just like that!" cried Yves.
"If you can run mine, determine my future, Mr.
Saumont, I most certainly can influence yours in the same manner!"
"But you weren't hurt!" protested Yves. "The lawyer didn't hurt you, did he?"
"Lawyer?"
Oh, my God! Ramona's mind whirled furiously. First the two had opened her mail and kept the news of her uncle's death and estate from her. Then they'd pretended to be her to get the island. Had they sent her up with a phony lawyer? Richardson wasn't the real lawyer? Did they know about the intruder as well?
Her legs were like rubber under her. The house was spinning around her. Ghosts, intruders, rapists, phony lawyers, friends who tried to take everything she had, now a man who was threatening to kill them all. Was there no one at all who was honest? Perk didn't seem interested in her uncle's murder. His sister defended the intruder and went off and left her when Owen offered his protection. And even he said not to trust him! What now? What now!
She seemed to be running down a long empty hall way. It was huge and echoing. Someone was shouting her name until it thundered in her ears, but she couldn't find who called. There were shadows leaping at her from walls. Wouldn't the hall ever end? She couldn't feel her legs beneath her and yet she was tired, so tired and weak. Suddenly the floor dropped from under her and she was falling into a vast, black abyss.
When she came to she was lying on the couch in the library before a blazing hearthfire. Outside she could hear the tumultuous roar of the wind and the thundering torrent of sleet and hail. She shivered more from the sound than the damp chill that filled the house.
"Are you all right?" asked Owen leaning over her.
"I think so," she answered with a nod. "What happened?"
"What didn't?" he responded, trying to joke with her. "The whole world must have caved in on you. I'm sure the whole situation looked pretty hopeless and overwhelming at the time."
"Is Conner still here?"
"Can't you hear them?" asked Owen with a grin. "They're getting along famously."
Listening carefully Mona became aware of laughter and physical commotion in the living room. They're not! She wanted to block out the vision her mind immediately conjured at the noise.
"Not in my house!" cried Mona, struggling to her feet.
"Hey, calm yourself!" warned Owen. "There isn't too much you can do." "We'll see about that!"
He followed her out the door and into the living room. The three were having a marvelous time all right. There were several half-empty bourbon bottles on the tables. They had apparently brought along their own refreshment. Joyously rolling in the throes of love-making, the nude trio were making a regular orgy of their party. They didn't seem to notice the couple who had entered.
Yves' hand struck out at a small black box on the horse hair sofa and it throttled into action, issuing forth the seductive music of a strip tune. His face registered contentment as he fell back to his caressing of Deanna's plump, full breasts.
"How long have I been out?" demanded Mona incredulously.
"Long enough to set up a liquor cabinet, a temperamental tape recorder, and strip three bodies," returned Owen, engrossed in the ravishing of the luscious female body on the floor.
Ramona had to lean against the doorway for support as the two men enjoyed the plunder of the willing female. Deanna was sucking the cock of the little man with ardor as if it were a taffy lollipop while Yves screwed her cunt. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, but Ramona wanted to vomit remembering the raw ache of her vagina after the intruder raped her. It seemed ages ago, but the scene on the floor made her relive the agony of its moments again.
Finally they lay exhausted and Yves was putting on another tape to blare out its sensuous beat in competition with the storm. Mona slid silently out the door and up the dark stairway to her room. But Yves saw Owen watching her leave.
"Hey, com'on! The more, the merrier," he quoted with laughter. "Bring on the other pussy!"
But Owen shook his head and started to turn away.
"You're normal, aren't you?" demanded Yves. "Get in here and have a roll."
Mona turned at the head of the stairway to look down at Owen. Would he join them? He was only human. And for a man it was much harder to refuse. His eyes met hers with longing. She couldn't go down there with him, no matter how much he wanted her. His glance went to the living room. Once more she felt lost and alone. This time she didn't look back.
She tried to lock her door but the latch was rusted and broken. From the sounds coming up from the living room, she felt that they were having enough fun downstairs. They probably wouldn't bother her so she just leaned a chair under the knob to bolster the door and undressed to go to bed.
After a while the music, laughter, and gutteral moans of ecstasy blended with the whining tumult that clattered outside her window. As Mona drifted off to sleep she could hear only the scratching of the wildly blown branches at her window, the screech of the wind, and the clamor of sleet and hail upon the house and window panes. Already the shadows were dancing their macabre dances on the wall and she was left alone to watch, forgotten. Pulling the covers over her head, Mona buried herself in the cold yielding feather mattress, shivering until the sheets around her absorbed her body's warmth.
It was many hours later, or was it only a few, when she heard the rattle at her door. It seemed an incongruous part of her dream in which she and Owen were in a lovely sailboat on a summer day watching the gulls and seeing New Hampshire's coast. The beautiful stretches of sand and trees. Colorful birds and frolicking wildlife. What was that rattling? It sounded as if the door were going to break down. There was no door on a sailboat!
There was a loud crash and she awoke to the howling wind, icy sleet upon her windows, and two men panting in her doorway. She pulled the covers around herself and lay still without breathing, afraid to be discovered, half-believing that they couldn't see her.
"Hey, doll! Com'on out 'n play!" laughed Yves drunkenly as he staggered through the door.
"What'sh ya hidin' for?" demanded Conner. "You ain't afraid o' ush!"
First the intruder. Now two drunken maniacs! Owen! Owen, where are you?
Yves lurched onto the bed and patted her body through the covers.
"Yep. It's here. Just what we came for!"
"Lemme at it!" croaked the older man, joining him to rip the blankets from her struggling hands. "Oh, it'sh a live one!"
"Get out of here! Both of you!" screamed Mona.
"Now, doll. Don't get upset," said Yves calmly. "Just stopped in to let you know you weren't forgotten."
"Thanks. Now you can go."
"Without a proper thank you?" demanded Conner incredulously. "Hey, 'bout time someone taught you proper, lady. You don't seem to know too much 'bout how to treat a man."
"I don't need your advice!" cried Mona. "Now get out. Owen! OWEN!"
"Don't waste your lung power, baby," said Yves. "He can't hear you with this storm. Besides, Deanna's got him pretty well out of commission at the moment. He couldn't move a leg in this direction if his life depended on it."
"Get out!"
"Don't be hard to get along with, doll-face!"
The two men were already actively exploring her body through the thin material of her nightgown. Mona cringed against the pillows, trying to slap their hands away. But they were insistent.
"I told you!" she cried, jumping out of the bed and running to the door. "Owen! OWEN!"
Yves was right behind her and grabbed her from the open door, dragging her back to the bed. He lifted her bodily and tossed her onto the high mattress.
"NO! NO!"
She struggled vainly while the two tore off her nightgown and began in earnest to explore the female treasures of her anatomy. Their hands were hot and sweaty as they manipulated her full breasts and plied the dark nubbins of her aureoles. Yves pressed his fingers into the softly muffed mound of her cunt and tried to force her thighs apart. She kicked while holding them stiffly together.
"Nooooooooo!" she wailed and found Conner's mouth pressing hers, his thick tongue stinking with tobacco pushed between her lips.
She nearly choked trying to force him from her, his long tongue was strangling her throat and cutting off her oxygen.
His flesh was soft and flaccid as she pushed at him and she knew it was waxy white from too little exposure to the fresh air. It made her think of an overgrown, demented idiot with baby flesh. The overpowering smell of his tobacco was putrid, she wanted to wretch.
This man had determination, purpose, in his striving at her nipples, his mouth bruising hers as his whisky-soaked tongue choked her. Suddenly his fists were pelting her cherry-tipped breasts with clawing blows. His mouth was eating at hers, his teeth chewing her lips. Why couldn't she scream and shove this hulking mound of flesh from her?
Ramona writhed beneath him trying to find a way to counter his ferocity. Her hands pushed his shoulders up, away from her body and she looked at him sternly and squarely, for a long moment until his panting body stilled and his gaze met hers.
Yes! Take a good look, Mr. Conner, she wanted to say. It's not the usual type of female you get. And certainly not Deanna de Retna. It's Ramona Jahn, Puritan and a lady. She doesn't make it with every man that comes her way.
He plummeted against her, a black shadow that crashed into her with the force of a tornado, his lips and teeth ravaging hers, his hands grappling her tits.
"Naauuuuuhhh!" she wailed, flailing at his heavy body.
Yves' fingers clawed at her cunt with fury. He was pushing her thighs apart. Between the man at her head and the strong fingers at her crotch, she felt powerless to stop them.
Panic stricken, she wished she had never found the letter. Why had she ever come! If only she were safe in Ray's arms once more! Ray! Even he'd deserted her. There was no one now. Owen! He didn't come when she cried out. Even if he could hear her over the storm, he was probably too involved with Deanna to care. Why wasn't she like Deanna. Her kind were always taken care of, petted, loved, spoiled. Try to be good and honest and you end up raped, plundered, and deserted. What was the use of struggle or even living!
Yves' muscles were tensed for action. Drunk or not, he could handle anything she gave him. Nothing she could do would stop him. Sensing the crotch of his body over her and feeling the smooth tightness of his biceps as they stroked against her naked hips and belly, she knew all defense was useless.
"Come on, female," his thick tongue taunted her. "Show me that a lady's pussy is any better than a willing little bitch's. Show me there's more difference than a willing, sucking slit and a tight little cunt like yours. Is that all? Or maybe a lady has some tricks that a practiced slit doesn't know. You been holding back on your goodies?"
Hot with fury she tried to squirm from their grasping paws. She wouldn't hold still for them! Never would they get her body willing! There was a loud crack and Mona felt the burning sting of a handprint on her buttocks.
"You're not going anywhere, pet- Not till we've had what we came for!"
"No! I won't! You can't make me!" she protested.
"Wanna bet," slurred the older man. "Let's show 'er, Saumont."
Like a sack of grain, her body was tossed and bolstered into the position they desired. Crouched on her hands and knees, Mona felt limp and her elbows and knees kept giving way. Again and again came the loud crack of Yves' strong hand on her buttocks leaving her burning and sore, tears stinging her eyes. She sobbed without restraint.
Without warning Conner thrust his head into her face. In the shadowed darkness he cupped his huge, dangling cock, ramming it into her face.
"Like it, little lady?" he demanded, his body pushing against hers, crushing her full tits cruelly into her chest. "Wanna try it? Huh? It's even better'n it looks."
Cold sickening horror drenched her with a chilling sweat. What did he mean? What would he do to her?
"Com'on, lady. Open up. You're gonna' get the treat o' your life."
Mona swung her head backwards to avoid his onslaught, a feeling of sheer terror and nausea consuming her.
She could smell him so strongly now. All her senses reeled, but seemed sharply, bitingly aware of his presence in sight, sound, and smell. He was all cock, huge and hairy, sickeningly, ghostly white white and horribly etched with those blue-tinged veins that showed so grossly under transparent, colorless skin. His balls knocked against her as he shoved his prick into her face. They were dripping twins of winkled, seemingly lifeless sacs that were swelling like balloons. His whole groin was a mass of coarse dark pubic hair covering milky, sharply defined contours of flesh stretched like dried, loose leather across a framework of knobby, gnarled twigs.
He hadn't washed recently and was heavily scented with masculine colognes. The smell of intense, lingering sweat and cum from his recent endeavors emanated from his loins and armpits as strongly as the wretched stale tobacco odor. The fumes twisted at her intestines until she thought she would vomit.
His breathing was loud and rasping, coming in snorts as if he were trying to catch his breath. And she could hear the rumbling of gas in his belly.
Go away! Oh, God make him go away!
"Kiss it! Go on! Love it!" demanded the man. "It may be the last time you ever got to love a cock like this."
He rubbed the length of his long stinking cock against her cheek, across her lips, and under her eyes and nose.
"Do it!"
With trembling lips she let it touch her. Repulsed and terrified, she allowed her lips to graze its surface.
Behind her she could hear Yves panting. He was stroking her thighs and buttocks, pulling her legs apart to receive him.
"Always wanted to take a stubborn, arrogant little bitch like you this way," she could hear him say. "Think you're too good to give a guy some action unless you get him for life. Well, baby. I'm going to show you a thing or two."
Like an animal! He was going to mount her like an animal!
She jerked and wriggled below him, trying to prevent his taking her. His hand sliced through the air and seared across her ass.
"Eeiiiii!"
She could smell the heavy odor of his whiskey breath over her shoulder. Mixed with his overpowering masculine smell of sweat and sex, the stench further weakened her and her head started to throb unmercifully with the crushing fumes and the soreness of her fall that afternoon.
His strong hands caressed her silken curves and finally clutched at her tits as if they were about to milk the teats of a cow. She'd never been so heated with fury-so insulted at the touch of a male! Yves was trying to humiliate her, punish her. Why? She'd never done anything to him!
Fingers teasing her breasts, he frolicked with them, molded them until they were bruised and bleeding. And his turgid prick probed blindly at the crevice of her wet ass.
Mona could feel Yves' fingers slipping between her labia. For half an instant there was a cold breeze on the hot wet indises of her cunt as the labia slid around the fingers closing off the air of the room. Three blunt fingers swirled in the rosy warm flesh of her pussy, plucking the delicate, tensed thread of her clitoris. They crushed it with their toying, pushing onward down the passageway as far as they could to the opening of her womb.
Deep and hard they screwed into her. Punishing her with his fucking fingers, his thrusts made her body jar and sway with their action.
"Nnnnnaaanngghh!" Mona protested.
But Yves was smiling behind her. He was pleased with himself, taking her like this, treating her like an animal. She was just like the women who drove men to his club in search of females who remembered the real purpose of Eve, to serve a male.
Her eyes jammed shut and the pain of his prick cutting through her body in place of his fingers seared her brain as her mouth contorted with the emerging cry.
"Yyyyiiiii!"
Yves groaned and bellowed with his own pain and exertion, his huge, fully-ridged cock driving into her. She could feel every crease and swell in its volume and length, so tightly was it jammed into her.
He began the long thrusts into her, pulling long and hard, ramming sharply and profoundly till she thought her uterus would burst with its massiveness. Its hardness ground within her, aching and leaving raw the sensitive flesh it had fathomed.
As his nails dug into her breasts she heard the gutteral voice of Conner ordering, "Suck-Lick!"
He jerked her head forward as though to rip her hair out by the roots. And then . . . the monstrous cock filled her mouth, almost strangling her as it pressed against her soft palate and gorged all the way back to her tonsils. She gagged and her stomach heaved. She groaned, her eyes closed tighter with the horrible thing throbbing urgently in her mouth.
"Okay, little lady. Show your stuff!" grunted Conner, twining his fingers more cruelly into her hair and jerking her head up and down.
Helplessly, her mouth moved up and down on the great prick.
Oh God, the thoughts ran wildly through her tortured brain. If she made him have an orgasm, would he leave it at that and let her go? Suck, lick, suck, suck, and lick again. She forced herself through the motions of loving his prick. Harder . . . cum . . . please cum! Cum and let me go. The words raced through her like wildfire as she sucked like a hungry child feeding at her mother's breast to end her misery.
As she sucked, the huge cock pulsed in the soft wetness of her slaving mouth. There was a stale, musty taste on her tongue and the back of her throat. How long? How long! The pain and humiliation of her degradation at mouth and ass were driving her mad.
End it! End it! Cum and be over with! But then that obscene, lewd sperm of his would explode and fill her. She wouldn't let it happen. She'd jump away! To let him fuck her mouth and fill her with his cum would be terrifying. Mona couldn't let him have the satisfaction.
The dirty, lecherous man was crazed with passion, screwing in and out of her mouth like an avenging angel of doom, spitting obscenities down at the top of her bobbing head as though she were a slave.
"Suck it, bitch. Use your tongue, swirl it around. Yeah! Harder! I'll teach ya!"
Furiously and desperately she worked at her task. Her mouth ached. End! End! Before she collapsed and died of pain and hurt, humiliation and exhaustion.
"Aaahhhhhh!" cried the man tugging at her hair.
Before Mona could jerk her head away she felt the huge pulsating cock fucking into her mouth, expanding like a giant balloon and his steel-like hands clamping vise-like on either side of her head, freezing her into position. It exploded into her, the hot, sticky sperm came in great powerful spurts that bloated her cheeks so she had to swallow to keep from choking to death. Again and again he gushed into her mouth while she tensed her muscles to swallow faster and faster until she nearly collapsed for lack of air.
Yves was gripping her ripe, hanging tits, pinching her nipples. Tugging and manipulating them he rode her buttocks with the frenzy of a bronco gone mad.
The heat and animal nature of her own body and the furor of her hate and anger spurred her to keep up with him, surpass him. She would show him yet who was master!
Together they rode the pulsating, savage rhythm of their lust-borne orgasm. Gyrating, writhing, pounding against each other with the arcs and dives of their fertility rite, they went with the violence of the storm that wracked their loins. Their groins locked tight in the masticating joining of their sexual organs, chewing, sucking, and pulverizing into the tender flesh of the other.
As suddenly as his needs took hold of him, came the explosion of his cumming. Meeting hers with the impact of two bursting dams, the fluids of their sexual procreation rushing forth to flood and drown in all their path.
"Eeeeeyyyiiii!" Mona cried with his final scouring plunge.
The white-hot cum of his orgasm overflowed and matted their groins locked in coition. The sticky sperm dripped slowly down her crotch and was like glue on her thighs and pubic hair.
Yves' heavy balls slapped against her buttocks in the savage tempo of his orgasm. And finally exhausted of their ammunition, his prick shrunken and limp in her pussy, he withdrew. With a loud pop he retreated and dragged out his long deflated cock to leave it hanging shriveled and wet in his groin.
All three collapsed on the bed, the two men atop Mona. Yves and Conner immediately fell into a deep slumber punctuated by rasping snores while Mona panted loudly gathering her strength and courage to crawl out from under them and make her way downstairs.
When she finally did reach the living room, a sheet wrapped tightly around her she found Deanna and Owen in a naked and weary embrace upon the living room floor. The tape recorder droned on, the hushed music sensual and provocative. Slowly Owen lifted himself from the sprawled female on the floor and Mona realized she was asleep. He pulled on his undershorts before he was aware that someone was watching him.
"Mona!" he whispered, facing her.
She looked at him with misgiving. He was human. And he was a male. All males were the same. What could she do? But when he came toward her she ran. At this moment she couldn't face another man. It just wasn't possible!