Chapter 17
Clara crumpled against Garnett's chest. She swayed against him, and he clasped her tightly in his arms to keep her from falhng. "Pull yourself together," he repeated. "Now that you know she's alive and safe, there's no reason to fall apart."
These words seemed to produce a steadying effect on Clara, for she lifted her head and pulled it slightly away from the attorney. "I guess you're right," she said, "it's just the shock.. . "
"Yes, I know," said Garnett quickly. "But if you want to see Rita again, you'd better get hold of yourself. I'm not going to carry you up those stairs, you know."
She nodded assent and took his arm. "All right," she said. "I'm ready."
When they were back inside the theatre, Garnett steered Clara toward their former seats. Alice had vanished, and they now had the couch to themselves. Garnett peered over the railing of the balcony into blackness. The blue light had dimmed and nothing could be seen on the stage but the red, unwinking eye of the incense burner. Then a greenish light suffused the dais, and two girls were revealed, lying languorously among the pillows with their heads nestled between each other's legs. Clara leaned forward.
"Which one is Rita?" whispered Garnett.
"Neither." Clara sounded bemused. "I ... I ... never saw either one of them before in my life. But she was there-honestly she was. I tell you I saw her...."
"I think we'd better leave and go someplace where we can talk privately."
"But what about Rita? Maybe she's behind stage. Or maybe we could find someone who knows her-and knows where she is now."
"Okay." Garnett stood up. "I'll go and ask around. Does she look like you?"
"Oh, yes. She's a little taller, and she wears her hair in a very sophisticated upsweep, but we do look a lot alike. In fact, people sometimes ask if we're twins."
"Then I shouldn't have any trouble recognizing her. Or describing her, either. You sit here and don't move until I come back, no matter what happens. Even if you should see Rita again. I don't want to have to investigate your disappearance too."
"All right. I won't move, I promise."
Garnett turned and disappeared into the blackness. Clara sighed, leaned back against the sofa cushions and closed her eyes.
She was still reclining, eyes closed, when Garnett returned some five minutes later. "Come on," he hissed, "let's get out of here." He took her roughly by the arm and propelled her down the narrow stairway. Clara tried to ask what had happened, but he silenced her. "Wait till we get back to your room," he said. "Then we'll talk."
When they arrived, Garnett shoved the girl gently down into the pink plush armchair. Then he stood in front of her, his arms folded across his chest. "Well?" he said, his annoyance obvious.
"Well, what?" queried the girl innocently.
"Look here, Clara," he asked, "exactly how much do you feel the wine you had? Are you drunk?"
She looked startled. "I suppose I'm pretty high," she admitted. "On the edge, you know? But I'm sober enough to go anywhere we've got got to go-or to take any bad news you have to give me."
"There's no bad news, and we're not going anywhere. Just tell me: are you certain you saw your sister on the stage?"
Clara sprang from the chair, eyes wide, mouth agape. Garnett pushed her back down. "Now take it easy," he said. "You say you saw Rita, and I'm sure you believe you did. You saw Rita, but she wasn't there. She certainly wasn't there when I looked."
"But the time lapse ... It was several minutes before we went back upstairs. She had plenty of time to leave."
"Yes. And it was several minutes between the time we left the theatre and the time you went back for your purse. Several minutes, Clara. Maybe five in all. Do you really think Rita would have remained on the dais for only five minutes? And alone. She was alone, wasn't she?"
"Oh, yes. There was no one else. I would have told you if there had been."
"So. She performed a five minute solo. Do you honestly imagine that that audience wants to watch a woman playing with herself, even for five minutes? Why, if they want that, they can go to a burlesque show. Practically the same thing ... No Clara, it just won't wash."
"You're being ridiculous! I wasn't having an hallucination, if that's what you're implying."
"How can you be sure? An hallucination has all the appearance of reality. That's what makes it an hallucination. You were in a state of mental excitement. You'd been drinking an abnormal amount of wine on an empty stomach. Rita's on your mind constantly. What could be more natural than for you to imagine that you saw her?"
"And I suppose this conversation is an hallucination too, perhaps this whole party is an hallucination."
"Now you're being irrational. Please try to calm down. You know, I haven't told you yet what happened when I went down to the stage."
"No. You didn't. What did happen?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all. There was no sign of your sister, or anyone who looked like you or who answered to the name of Rita Reeves. And I couldn't find a single soul who could tell me exactly what did happen in the interval between the end of the act which we watched and the beginning of the lesbians' performance. Everyone I spoke to had either just gone out for a smoke, or hadn't been paying attention, or had just arrived, or something! No one saw anything, no one knew anything, no one had ever heard of your sister. I even tried checking with the man who works the lights. I was sure he'd be able to tell me who had been on the dais during the interim...."
"What did he say?"
"Not a thing! There is no man who works the lights. They're automatically rigged to go on and off at timed intervals."
"Oh." Clara seemed deflated. "But you didn't prove that I didn't see her ... that she wasn't there ... And I was so sure...."
"Yes, Clara, I know you were sure. We won't argue about it anymore. Let's suppose for a moment that you did see Rita. What could you do about it?"
"You should know about that better than I do. You're the lawyer! We should go to the district attorney and have him arrest Mrs. Mason for kidnapping, and have the police search for this mysterious husband of hers. I wouldn't be in the least surprised to find out that he's the 'Scorpion.'"
"In the first place," said Garnett, "if I went to the police now and asked them to arrest Mrs. Mason, I'd be the laughing stock of the bar association. Even the greenest law student knows you can't accuse a party of any crime without having evidence to back up your accusation. Sure, you can prove, with the bookplates, that your sister had some association, either with the Scorpion or with some unknown third party who had an association with the Scorpion. But that's all you can prove. You don't even have the ring anymore. You have absolutely no way of knowing for certain that Rita is here. And, in the second place, even if you swear up and down that you saw Rita on the dais, you'll have a pretty tough time convincing the DA. that she wasn't in there of her own free will. Which brings us to another point. You don't suppose that if she was on the stage she was there against her will, do you? She could have screamed and tried to get away. And remember, she was alone there-so you said. I just don't understand your sudden hysteria, Clara. If you did see Rita, you know she's safe. If you didn't see her, then you have no reason to be any more concerned about her than you have been all along. I think that rather than talking nonsense about arresting Mrs. Mason you should be much more interested in continuing to track down Rita."
"Well," said Clara, "perhaps you're right. Perhaps I'm just overwrought. What do you think we should do now?"
"I think I should do a little more investigating. And the best place to start would be with your Mrs. Burton. After all, she did remain in the theatre after we left. Perhaps she can tell us who, if anyone, was on the dais during that interval. Was she there when you went back?"
"Why, yes, she was!" answered Clara. "How convenient for you!"
Garnett grinned. "Don't be catty, little girl. It doesn't become you." He pulled her to her feet. "Come on, it's time for you to get some sleep. You've had quite a day."
"That may be, but I have no intention of going to sleep. While you're having your little tete-a-tete with Alice Burton, I'm going to find my sister."
"Do I have to put you to bed by force?" asked Garnett wearily.
"You don't have to put me to bed at all. And it's time you understood that I don't like this overbearing attitude of yours!"
"Disgusting, isn't it?" He chuckled. "Nevertheless, you are going to bed."
He picked her up and carried her to the bed. The instant he put her down, she rolled over to the edge and would have gone off the side if he had not caught her around the waist and dragged her back. Silently he pulled her dress over her head, imprisoning her arms. Then he slipped her shoes off and removed her stockings. Bare-legged, Clara writhed inside the confinement of her dress and spat out unintelligible insults.
"If you aren't quiet," said Garnett, "I am going to give your be-switched little bottom a spanking." He turned her over and tapped her bare buttocks oh-so-lightly with his hand. Then he unfastened her garter belt. 'You don't want to make me do that, do you?" he asked, gently stroking her thigh.
"What are you doing?" asked Clara's voice, muffled by the folds of the dress.
"Looking at you," Garnett replied. "What else would I be doing?" He let his hand fall on her hip and slither between her legs.
"Don't!" said Clara. "Let me sit up! I don't like you to look at me when I can't see you. Let me up!"
"Not yet. I like you this way." Garnett took a tuft of pubic hair in his fingers and gently tugged it. "Very soft and nice," he said.
"I can't breathe," Clara objected. "I'm smothering."
"I'll let you up," promised Garnett. "But not just yet." He moved his hand forward, spreading her legs farther apart. His eyes widened appreciatively. "If you were any riper, you'd burst and spill all over my fingers, wouldn't you?"
There was a muffled protest from inside the dress, indicating, Garnett assumed, that the young lady did not agree with his estimate of her condition. Unruffled by this lack of encouragement, he asked: "Can you guess what I'm looking at now?"
Clara jerked her legs together and squeezed the fleshy parts of her thighs against each other.
"You're clairvoyant," Garnett told her, "but I can still see it. In fact.. . "
"What did you do?" exclaimed Clara suddenly. She rolled away from him and thrashed about wildly inside her improvised prison.
Garnett pulled the dress over her soft, white shoulders.
"What did you do?" she repeated.
"I kissed it," he said coolly. "Here, lie back and let me do it again from the front. It's easier that way."
"I think I'll go to sleep now," she replied hurriedly, slipping away from him.
"You change your mind so quickly!" Garnett clutched her around the waist and hips with one arm. "I'm beginning to believe that you have absolutely no convictions." He smiled. 'You don't really want to go to sleep, Clara. You want to he here on the bed and let me play with you for a little while, and kiss you ... all over." He arranged the pillows under her in such a manner that her shoulders were raised and she could look down at him as he bent his head towards her thighs.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" she whispered feebly. "Just for a little while-until I get my bearings and-"
"Your mirror will tell you why I don't leave you alone," he answered softly, brushing his lips across the hair which shielded her love-nest.
Immediately she placed her hands between her legs, guarding her treasure against further intrusion. "Please don't do that again," she begged.
Gamett propped himself up on one elbow and gently but firmly pulled one of her sweet dimpled knees away from its mate. "Didn't you like it when Alice Burton did it?" he asked, reaching between her thighs and plucking at the hair which grew over the lips of her love-mouth. The little lips parted with a tiny, audible kiss. Garnett went on: "I won't insist that you answer that question, but I do insist on the same privilege you allowed Alice." He kissed her just above the knee and squeezed the flesh tenderly.
"Don't-please don't!" Clara murmured. She put her hand on his head to push him away, but the strength seemed to ebb from her fingers as his breath stirred the hair on her Mount of Venus. Her fingers curled in his hair as his lips slipped up over her thighs. "No-no further," she whispered.
With his ear pressed against her thigh, Garnett peered over her belly and the points of her heaving breasts. He took a bit of the flesh of her thigh between his teeth and nipped, evoking a surprised "eep" from her. He spread her legs further and further apart, and carefully examined the glowing ruby treasure which now lay completely exposed to his sight and touch.
"Don't look at me down there," the girl whispered. "It makes me feel like an animal."
"And what a lovely animal you are!" He kept his eyes fixed between her legs. "And what a wonderful little treasure you carry with you!"
Clara slipped one hand between her legs to cover the object of his interest. "Don't come any nearer," she pleaded.
He brushed the hand away. "Only near enough to kiss it," he said. He stroked upward toward her crotch with his lips, dragging the inside of his lower lip over her now-warm thighs, leaving a wet and moist trail along the upper part of her leg.
Clara twisted and writhed as though the bed had suddenly turned into a briar patch. "No nearer," she begged, "Oh-no! Conrad! The room is spinning! The bed is going around and around-like a-" She tangled her fingers in his hair and clutched the strands tightly. "Ohhhhh" she moaned. "My bones feel so heavy!"
Garnett's lips now touched her dark crown of pubic hair. She shivered.
"I'm so ashamed-" she whispered. "So ashamed of myself for lying here without any clothes on and letting you do anything you want to me. For letting you look at me like this. I know what you want. I can feel it in your fingers. I can feel it in my own legs, in my thighs, even ... down there, inside me ... And now," she continued, her voice barely audible, "I'm ashamed because I can't control my body ... because my body wants your mouth to press against me as much as my mind wants it to stop."
Garnett kissed her welted slit, urging the lips open by turning his head from side to side. The tiny, fleshy lips pressed and swelled against the lips of his mouth. They were hotly wet and brightly flushed. He kissed them with a loud sound, then kissed them again, moving his mouth across the wet open area toward her buttocks.
Clara moaned. "I can't move," she whispered. "I want to, but I can't move."
He slid his arms under her hips and raised them so that he could kiss her solidly between the legs. He shut his eyes as he pressed his face into the thick tangle of her pubic hair and the soft mound of her flesh. He flicked his tongue across the throbbing lips of her sex. Clara shut her eyes and rolled her head from side to side on the pillow.
She began to press herself against him, spreading her thighs and drawing up her knees, allowing his tongue access to every part of her. "How can you?" she murmured. "How ... can ... you ... do ... that ... oh ... do that!" She rubbed vigorously against his chin, and he licked harder, curling his tongue, probing the extra-sensitive head with the very tip of his tongue.
Suddenly, he stabbed his tongue into her now-gaping love-well. She cried out, and pressed her hips forward, driving the welcome intruder further inside her. She appeared to be completely consumed with passion, and she stretched out blindly to touch his hard male body. Her hands encountered his trouser buttons, and she began fumbling with them wildly, seemingly desperate to open them and to unsheath the manhood which the cloth kept from her grasping fingers. At last she succeeded and was able to clutch triumphantly at his love instrument. Her hands slipped down to the sides of his crotch. She raked her fingers through the sweaty warmth of his pubic hair, then slipped them into the incredibly soft grooves of his thighs. She kept them there for a short while, just stroking the flesh and making small moaning noises in her throat. Then she moved them back up to cover his swollen organ.
In response to her touch, Garnett pulled his hips back and maneuvered his organ out of his trousers as she began rubbing her hands up and down on it. He then made a muffled, glubbery sound-by which he meant that he wished her to unsheath the rest of his maleness. She plunged her hands back into his trousers and fished out the fleshy sacs. He ran his finger slowly along the crease between her buttocks and into her love cavern alongside his busily working tongue.
She hugged his body to her, pressing her breasts against the swollen organ she was holding. He inched his hips around toward her shoulders. Suddenly, her body went rigid. "No," she whispered. "Oh ... no!! ! " Her hands froze around the shaft which she had been rubbing against her nipple. "I'm doing the same thing that ... that ... red head in the theatre ... was doing. Ohl No more ... please ... "
She pushed him away from her, but to no avail. He took his shaft in one hand and rubbed it across her face. "Kiss it," he said, pulling his mouth away from its task. "Lick it if you want me to go on licking you."
Clara grimaced as the hot bud seared her lips. "But ... I don't want ... I told you I'm afraid to ... Ohhh." She moaned as his tongue curled back against that least-resistant part of her. She kissed the tip of the member and began to rub it with the flat of her tongue. She licked its length and breadth, taking it into her own hands and pushing his away. She licked it from top to bottom and back again, letting her tongue lap up the moisture that sprang from the tip. Her hips rocked back and forth under the gentle guidance of his hands.
It was not long before he took his organ out of her hands again. Her tongue lapped over his fingers in an effort to reclaim the newfound treasure she had so recently begun to lick. She probed between his fingers and under them and around them. "No," he chuckled, "you can't have it. Not unless you're ready to suck it." He pushed the spongy gland against her lips. She turned her head away sharply. "Suck it, Clara," he demanded. "Suck it!"
She shook her head and whispered: "Let's just go on as we were ... " He did not reply.
She was silent for a moment. Then she said: "You know, I feel as though I'm. watching myself, lying there on the bed ... naked ... squirming around in the arms of a man ... doing unspeakable, unthinkable things. And she horrified me ... that girl on the bed ... she's lascivious and disgusting.. . "
Garnett was not at all interested in the horrified and shocked Clara; only in the lascivious, squirming one to whose lips he now held his warm, ripely swelling engine. "You must do it to me," he whispered as he caressed her warm, succulent buttocks. "Before you do it to someone else," he added.
"I won't ever do it to someone else. Or to you, either."
"I think you will." He touched her mouth with the tip of the shaft. "Lick it. Go on. You like to lick it, don't you?"
In response, her tongue slipped out and lightly brushed the tight-skinned organ. It was as though she didn't want to, but somehow couldn't help herself. She rubbed her tongue over it, and, when it pressed into her lips, she did not stop. She kept licking it until it had pressed so deeply between her lips that she could no longer deny the fact that she had the tip inside her mouth.
But when Garnett slowly pushed the totality of the shaft into her mouth, she did protest. Pushing him away with all her strength, she said in a quavering voice: "I can hear the voice of that girl-the redheaded one-pleading to those men to let her do what I'm doing to you. If I give in now, someday, maybe, I'll be on my knees, pleading ... like that ... please ... please." Somehow, a note of supplication crept into her voice, and she bent her head to take the erect member back into her mouth. Garnett moved forward until it met her lips and slid easily between them.
She flung her arms around his back and hugged him close. He slid his tongue back into her slit and began lapping at her savagely, shaking his head wildly from side to side and licking fiercely. His hips pumped passionately as he drew his stout weapon in and out of her mouth, and she curled her tongue around the tip and licked each time he drew it outward. His movements grew faster and faster.
She tensed her body and rubbed wildly against his tongue. Her body began bucking uncontrollably as her mouth filled with hot liquid. His hips held her head on one side and the pillow held it on the other side. There was nothing she could do but swallow.