Chapter Twenty-Two
After Conrad left," said Clara to Alice Burton, "I leaned back and closed my eyes. I felt pleasantly drowsy, and all I wanted to do was sit and wait for Conrad and Bess. I relaxed and let my mind wander. Kimmi had stopped playing the piano, and I could hear what must have been a phonograph record of African tribal music. The drum beats sounded clearly in my ears, and it even seemed that I could hear the words of the rhythmic chants. I was sure that I remembered a river, dark and slow with silt, and suddenly I laughed. 'I didn't remember that they smoked opium in Africa,' I said aloud.
" 'Of course, they do,' said a masculine voice right in my ear. It was so close that I practically leaped off the cushions, so startled was I.
" 'In fact, it was in Africa that I first made my acquaintance with the stuff,' the voice went on. I'll grant that it's rather hard to come by there; it's so much easier, and cheaper, to get kif-that's the Berber name for hashish.' My new-found companion smiled in a friendly way. He struck a match and looked at me. May I?' he asked.
" 'May you what?" I replied. Then I realized that he was looking at the pipe Conrad had pressed into my hand. 'Oh,' I said. 'It's empty again. Do you think I should fill it?"
" 'By all means, if you have something to fill it with.' He blew out the match and watched me as I opened the silver box and began stuffing the contents into the pipe. Of course, I had no idea of how much to put in, so I filled it as full as I could, hoping that I looked like I knew what I was doing. Then I leaned toward the second match, which the man was now holding out in front of the pipe. I watched the' tobacco, or whatever you call the stuff, burst in a beautiful bonfire, and then I took several very deep drags and puffed out in what I hoped was a casual and nonchalant manner.
"'Do you always smoke such heavy loads?' asked my new neighbor.
"'No ... n-not always,' I replied nervously. I glanced sideways at the man and decided that I liked the way he looked, although, frankly, it was very hard to tell exactly how he looked, since I was only able to see him out of the corner of my eye.
"I now remembered that most of the people I had watched smoking opium had handed their pipes to their companions, and, not wanting to appear lacking in manners, I offered the pipe to him. Apparently he had been expecting me to do exactly that, for he didn't even thank me, but merely took it and began puffing away. After awhile he handed it back to me, and we went on like that for some time, smoking and passing the pipe back and forth between us.
"Then, the man moved some of the pillows so that he could sit closer to me, and, in doing so, he uncovered the panties which I had hastily buried under one of them. He held them up, pursing his lips and course, I could see his face perfectly, but I was so embarrassed by his discovery that I completely forgot to notice the features. I snatched the panties from his hand and hastily thrust them under the cushions on which I was sitting. 'I ... I ... was with someone,' I explained, and then realized that it was not exactly the right thing to say.
" 'So I see,' the man said. He suddenly took me into his arms, kissing me hard on the mouth and running his hands across my body. I didn't resist. Oh, I wanted to-I wanted to push him away and tell him that it was wrong to do that to me, but somehow I couldn't. My hands wouldn't respond to my brain's order to push, my lips wouldn't respond to the order to pull away from his lips, nor would my voice respond to the order to protest his violation of my body and mouth. The flesh, I realized, is not always as one with the spirit. My flesh obviously had a mind of its own, for, much to my horror, my body was responding to the man's caresses, rubbing up and down against his hands. My hands were stroking the back of his neck, my lips were clinging to his lips. Even when he began to push me back down into the pillows, I couldn't cry out in protest. My voice struck in my throat, and I was helpless to resist as he pressed himself against me, putting his hand under my dress and raising it several inches.
"He stroked my bare thigh, then slid his hand between my knees, pushing them apart. 'Now lift your dress,' he whispered, 'I want you to show yourself to me.'
"At last my voice responded to my urgent command. 'No,' I made it whisper. 'No, no, nol There are ... other people ... they might ... see.' I felt as though I were wrenching each word forcibly from my reluctant throat. But I might as well have saved myself the tremendous effort, for the man merely said: 'All right, then, we'll go into an alcove.'
" 'But,' said my voice, this time without any prompting from me, 'it's miles away. We'd never get there before morning.'
The man laughed humorlessly and pulled me to my feet. I couldn't stand very well, and he had to hold on to my arm very tightly to keep me from falling. I took one step and I felt as though I were caught in a short length of movie film whose ends had been joined together. I seemed to be forever taking the same step and yet forever remaining exactly where I was. I kept my eyes fixed on the opposite side of the room, but no matter how far or how fast we walked, the alcove remained as far away as when we had started. At last I stopped. Tm exhausted,' I said, 'I can't walk another step.'
'But you've only taken three steps,' said the man, looking at me rather peculiarly. 'That's something a novice would say.'
" 'I was only joking,' my voice said. It seemed very important to whoever was running my body that no one should know that I had never before smoked opium. Suddenly I seemed to be sitting in a large hammock which was under the water in a lily pond. I was watching a movie of Clara and the man, through a periscope. Suddenly the film jumped several frames and the man and Clara were across the room, just entering one of the alcoves. I saw that it had a curtain which was made to close it off partially, but not completely, from the rest of the room. That was good, I thought, because if the curtain closed the alcove off completely, I wouldn't be able to see what I was going to do.
"Suddenly the lily pond seemed to turn upside down and I imagined that it wasn't a lily pond at all, but the moon, and that my periscope was really a telescope. How silly, I thought, not to know the difference between a lily pond and the moon-especially, I thought, because the moon was so obviously made out of cheese. I could smell it. It smelled like the smell of my sex, which I had smelled on Conrad's fingers. ' "I now noticed that there was one very deep chair in the alcove. I looked at it so hard through my telescope that I was nearly pulled through the lens and into the chair. I saw myself standing there, crossing my arms over my breasts and squeezing them. I looked around, and my head went all the way from front to back and back to front again.
" 'Okay,' said the man, 'now nobody can see us. Get out of your clothes. Quickly.'
"I wanted to shout that he was wrong, that I could see him and myself through my telescope on the moon, but I thought: 'He won't hear me until five million weeks from now, since that's how long it takes sound to travel from the moon.'
"I watched myself undress, dropping my clothes in a puddle at my feet. Then, barefoot up to my neck, I stood in the dim blue fight, letting the man look hungrily at me. 'Put on your shoes again,' he said. And I watched as I obediently stepped into my satin pumps.
"With the shoes on, I could see I was almost as tall as the man was. He came close to me and made me put my arms around him. Then he pressed his belly close to mine, squeezed himself against my bare thighs and rubbed my pubic hair with his trousered leg. Next he made me turn around, pressed his thighs against my bottom and told me to wriggle around while he pulled at my breasts with one hand and felt my stomach and sex organs with the other.
" 'Now,' he said, 'go over to that chair and kneel in front of it.'
"I watched myself kneel, and I imagined that I, at the end of my telescope, was taking a piece of notepaper and writing: 'Clara is that thing in the Reader's Digest article ... "
"How's that?" interposed Alice Burton quizzically.
"That 'thing,'" explained Clara, "was something called a massoh ... massa...."
"Masochist," supplied Alice helpfully.
"Yes," agreed Clara, "that's it. How did you know?"
"I read a lot."
"Oh. Well, anyway, it was in this article in the Reader's Digest about analyzing yourself on your own living room couch. Is that where you read it?"
"No," answered Alice, with only the faintest hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
"Oh," said Clara again. "Now where was I?"
"On the moon, looking through your telescope and making a note about being a masochist."
"Yes," said Clara. "I thought that, by kneeling, the Clara in the alcove had committed a monstrous indecency, although the man was not touching her and was not even hear her. I watched her looking meekly at him over her shoulder. Then, all of a sudden, I imagined that my telescope had turned into a cannon, into which I stepped, pulling the lid down tightly and sealing myself in. Then I lit a match and I shot out of the cannon, off the moon, through a million light years of space and back into my own body.
"A terrible shame swept over me as I knelt, nude, in front of the strange man. I seemed to be kneeling on hot coals, while hot flames licked at my bare body and singed the hair on my head and between my legs. The flames slithered along my thighs and danced over my belly to strike at my breasts. They washed over my buttocks in waves and darted their stinging, forked tongues between my thighs and deep inside of me. I could feel them making my skin blacken and bubble. I was sure that my blood was boiling in my veins and that my eyeballs were about to explode out of their sockets.
"Then the man spoke, and I forgot about the fire. 'If I were sitting there,' he said, 'what would you do?'
"I couldn't answer. I just stayed there, feeling once again the raging fire of hell licking at my charred flesh.
'"Show me,' said the man. He spoke softly, but there seemed to be an authority in his voice which could not be disobeyed.
" 'Show me,' he said again, 'exactly what you would do if I were sitting there. Lean forward, put out your hand ... '
"I think his voice trailed off about that point, but I'm not sure. It's possible that he continued to speak, guiding my hands with his voice, urging me to act out the obscene pantomime. I honestly don't know. I don't think I knew then. But I do know that something compelled me to lean forward, as though there really were a man in the chair. Some force stronger than myself lifted my hands to tug at buttons that weren't there, some force moved my fingers into a pantomime of unzipping a zipper, pushing open imaginary underwear shorts, lifting out an invisible male organ. Almost as though I were in a trance, I watched my hands go through the motions of stroking and rubbing, curling around the air, moving up and down with swiftly-measured movements. As though I had" been hypnotized, I then cupped my hands and moved my mouth close to them. I dropped my head and began to lick and suck the invisible organ in my cupped hands. It was at that point, I think, that fantasy took over completely, and it seemed as though there really was a man's thing in my hands and between my lips. I sucked and sucked for what seemed to be hours. At last I looked up at the chair and discovered with a shock that the man had somehow sat down when I wasn't looking and that the imaginary thing in my mouth was quite real after all.
"'Stop sucking it,' said the man, 'and lick it for a while. You must do that very well'
"Again, that force that was stronger than my own will took over, and I obediently slid the organ out of my mouth, putting the tip of it against the tip of my tongue and then rubbing the organ slowly around and around. The I held the skin forward over the tip of my tongue, while I ran my tongue around underneath it, along the ridge of the thing. He seemed to like that, for he began to twist and turn vigorously. I turned my head to one side and ran my lips up and down one side of the thing, then up and down the other side, and over and over the tip. My cheek brushed the hair above his organ, and I found myself turning and kissing the wiry curls, running my mouth down the line of his thigh, tasting the salt of his skin as I caressed his manhood with my tongue. Then I put one of those things-the ones that hang down-into my mouth, and sucked on it for awhile, and then I put the other one in my mouth and sucked it along with the first one.
"I heard a step behind me, and I started, practically biting off the man's things. I jerked my head away and turned, to find another man standing behind me, staring down at me from what seemed an incredible height. Suddenly, I felt utterly unrestrained and wholly degraded. It was as though I had fallen as low as I could, and now nothing that I did could make my shame any worse or my degradation more complete. I turned back to the man in the chair and once more took his sex-thing in my hands. I licked it from base to tip, pressing the soft, rubbery tip between my lips. I licked off the juice which had risen to the top, and tired to put the tip into my mouth again. But the man pulled away. 'Beg for it,' he said.
"I opened my mouth to say 'no.' Once again, my voice betrayed me. "Please...' it said. 'Please.'
"After awhile, he gave it to me. It felt so large in my mouth that for a moment I thought I was going to choke. I put my hands on his belly and tried to push him away. But, now that I had started, he wouldn't let me stop. He grasped my ears and held them so tightly that I couldn't move my head. My hands moved upward from his belly, and my fingers entwined themselves in the mat of hair on his chest
"My sense of taste seemed much more acute than usual, and the taste of his thing seemed overpowering, almost as overpowering as the intense smell which rose from the organ. At first I tried holding my breath, but, after awhile, my nostrils and taste buds got used to the smell and taste, and I stopped feeling as though I were about to gag.
"After I had sucked and sucked for some time, I even began to enjoy the taste. I stretched the skin away from the tip of the thing with both hands and licked and sucked up the taste from the newly uncovered places. Then I tried to suck more of the taste from the entire length of the organ, dropping my mouth heavily on it and driving it deep into my throat until I almost gagged.
" What do you like most about sucking me?" asked the man, roughly jerking my head back by the hair and staring brutally into my eyes. My mind told me that I should be terrified by the savagery of this stranger, but I felt completely calm.
" It's the taste,' I said. 'It's the taste I like the best.'
" I'll give you something you can really taste,' said the man, thrusting his thing back into my mouth. 'Get down on it hard,' he rasped, 'and don't pick up your head for even an instant'
"I obediently held my mouth tight around his thing and sucked in strongly. Instantly my mouth filled with something hot and liquid. I thought I was going to faint, but the feeling of weakness passed, and I swallowed, and swallowed again.
Then I heard a noise behind me, and I remembered for the first time that there was a man standing there watching my lewd and disgraceful performance.
"Suddenly the full impact of my behavior struck me. Once again I imagined that the fires of hell were lapping against my flesh. 'This time,' I thought, I'll be roasted to a crisp. There'll be nothing left of me but ashes.'
" 'Turn around,' said the man in back of me.
"'No,' I whispered. "No. I'm sinful-too sinful for you to look at me.'
"
"That doesn't matter,' said a voice just behind my left ear-a new voice, deeper than the first.
"I whirled around, and found that there were, indeed, two men standing there. I recognized one of them as one of those who had whipped me in that awful little room, and I knew that I had seen the other one, a tall and very thin Negro, several times about the house, but I had never come into contact with him before now.
" What have you done,' asked the white man, 'that is so sinful?'
"I couldn't answer. I merely hung my head and lowered my eyes.
"The man who had asked me the question then reached out, grabbed my hair and pulled it so hard that I was forced to stand up. Smiling evilly, he put his fist under my chin, viciously forcing my head upward so that my eyes looked into his. 'Answer me,' he commanded. Why are you so sinful?'
"'Because,' I whispered, trying to force my head from his grip. 'I did something to him.'
"To whom?" he asked, releasing my chin at long last.
" 'Him,' I replied, pointing at the man who had been sitting in the chair. Now, for the first time since I had turned, I saw that he was no longer seated but rather was standing near the chair, quietly observing my conversation with the newcomer.
" What did you do to him?" asked the Negro.
" 'I won't tell you,' I said.
'Without the slightest change of expression, the Negro hauled off and slapped me across the face. The man who had been standing beside the chair then walked up to us and punched the Negro on the jaw. The Negro didn't move, but his arms leaped out like two terrible cats, swift and graceful. One arm hit my defender in the stomach, the other clipped him ferociously on the point of the jaw. He crumpled, and the other white man dragged him out of the alcove by his heels.
"I was completely dazed by this rapid succession of bizarre events. My jaw still ached from the blow it had received, and my head seemed to be swimming several inches above my body in a murky pool of water.
"At this point my thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the Negro. 'Now,' he was saying, 'will you tell me what it was you did to the man I just laid out. If you don't,' he said, in the same bland, uninflected tone, I'll slap you again.'
" 'I ... sucked him,' I whispered.
" 'What did you suck?'
" 'His ... his sex organ.'
" 'Say it. Say the name, for it.'
" 'I sucked his ... his ... p...' The word stuck in my throat. It felt as large and uncomfortable in my mouth as had the organ itself.
" 'Go ahead,' prompted the Negro.
" 'I sucked his penis,' I said, running all the words together so that the one unutterable one wouldn't stand out so much.
" 'And you think that was sinful?' asked my interrogator.
" 'Oh, yes,' I replied. 'Very, very sinful.'
" 'So sinful,' asked the white man, who had returned without my noticing him, 'that you deserve to be beaten?"
" 'Oh, yes,' I answered. 'I do deserve to be beaten.'
"Very well then,' said the Negro, 'we shall beat you.'
"He turned and went into a corner of the alcove, where, I noticed, there was a large cedar chest He bent over the chest as the white man took my arm and said: 'Come on.' He then began to walk me out of the alcove and back into the large room with the blue lights. So confused and muddled was I that I made no protest but allowed myself to be led out through the curtain into the middle of the room.
"I looked around. There seemed to be twice as many people as before. I could see them wherever I turned, staring at me from all sides, reflected in the mirrors that lined the walls.
" 'I feel like a slave brought out before the Romans,' I whispered, half to myself and half to my jailer. 'To be beaten,' I added.
You are going to be beaten,' he said. At that moment, the Negro returned, dragging with him a heavy chair and clutching one of those hateful little whips. 'You are going to be beaten,' repeated the white man, this time with a look of ghoulish delight on his face. My blood froze.
"The two men forced me to lie over the softly padded arm of a chair. I raised my head and looked around the room again. Everywhere eyes seemed to be watching expectandy, lustfully. The eyes swarmed over my body like flies until my flesh crept. The white man put his hand on my bottom and lovingly stroked my cheeks. The surprise of the blow which landed seconds later was as great as the pain. I shrieked and writhed in torment. The man continued to switch my buttocks methodically. Then, suddenly, the Negro also began to beat me, with monotonous and frightening regularity. This also surprised me, for I had seen only one switch in his hand, but I suppose he could have been carrying two, or had gone and fetched another while I wasn't looking.
"The white man concentrated his blows on my bottom, but the Negro beat me everywhere, from my shoulders to my calves, always with the same biting force. I was amazed at his natural sense of rhythm. My back seemed to be covered with ferocious little ants, which nipped and picked at my burning skin. They seemed to have burrowed under the skin and now were trying to eat their way out again. It hurt unbearably, but I still felt that I deserved greater punishment. 'Harder!' I cried, 'Harder!'
" 'Why?' asked the white man.
" 'Because I'm wicked and deserve to be punished!"
"The lash fell on my buttocks harder than before. A voice suddenly cried from somewhere in the room: 'Bind her! Bind her and use whips on her. Whip her till she faints.'
" 'Oh, no,' I cried. 'Oh, no! Please don't tie me up! Please don't"
"But I could have saved my breath. The two men seemed to have no intention of tying me up. In fact, they seemed unaware of the request, and of my pleas. They were oblivious to everything except the beating which they were administering.
"The pain grew and grew until it seemed truly unbearable. I begged them to stop, but once more my pleas fell on seemingly-deaf ears. I glanced around the room through tear-blurred eyes, seeking deliverance. And suddenly one of the faces wavered into a recogni-zeable and familiar set of features.
" 'Bess,' I cried, 'Oh, Bess. Do help me. Make them stop. Please make them stop.'
" 'As soon as I called her name, Bess Lynd rose and came toward me. She whispered a few words into the Negro's ear, then into the ear of the white man. Almost immediately, the lashing stopped. I allowed myself to roll off the chair. I fell to the floor, overcome with pain and exhaustion.
" 'Come, Clara,' said Bess gently, 'get up. Where are your clothes?' i
"For the first time, I realized that I was stark naked. But I felt no additional shame. I think I was already as ashamed as I was going to get. "They're in the alcove,' I said, rising to my feet unsteadily. "That one, over there.'
'"Well, go get them and get dressed, and we'll leave,' said Bess. "I imagine that you're ready to go by now.'
" 'Oh, yes,' I answered. Tm ready to go now.' I started toward the alcove, then stopped. 'Bess,' I asked, 'where's Conrad?'
"'Conrad? Why, I don't know,' she replied. 'I thought he was with you.'
" 'No. He was, before, but then he went to look for you.'
"'Oh,' said Bess, 'well, our paths must have diverged, then. But don't worry. I'm sure Conrad can take care of himself. He'll turn up sooner or later,'
" 'I'm sure he will,' I said, and went on towards the alcove.
"Crossing the room alone was like walking through a rain of machine gun bullets. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and walked as fast as I could, which seemed to be at about the rate of one step every twelve and one-quarter minutes. By the time I arrived at the curtain to the alcove I felt sure that I had been walking for at least four days.
"I found my clothes, still in a heap on the floor, and began putting on my stockings. Suddenly a voice said: 'Wait. Don't dress yet.' It was the voice of the man who had wanted me bound and whipped. I turned to face him and found that he was a rather medium-size man with a blank, almost moronic face and pale gray eyes. I hadn't liked his sentiments, and now that I saw his face, I decided that I didn't like him, either.
" 'He came closer to me and seized my wrist, and said harshly: 'Come to my room with me.'
" 'No,' I said. 'Why should I?'
"In answer, he began to stroke my buttocks and then to caress my thighs and my privates. I felt as though a snake were crawling over me. I wanted to scream out, to run away, but I was paralyzed with fear.
" 'If you come to my room,' he said, now in a wheedling tone which terrified me even more than the harsh one had, 'I'll whip you. Not with a little switch. With leather. With whips with iron nails tied into the knots.' He still had his hand between my legs, and he rubbed it there, sending an involuntary shiver of excitement through my body. I'll whip you as you've never been whipped,' he whispered, 'until you faint from it, and I'll put my
"Suddenly I found my voice. 'No.' I cried, interrupting his ravings. 'I don't want to go with you. Now let go of me.' I began backing away from him, but his hands were still on me and I couldn't shake free of them.
" 'You don't have to be afraid of me,' he whispered.
" Tm not afraid,' I said.
"And I wasn't afraid. I was terrified.
"'I can see that you are,' said the man, 'and, of course, since you've been smoking opium, there's no point in even trying to reason with you. But there's really no need to be frightened.'
"With that, he threw his arms around me and held my arms so that I couldn't fight him off. Then he forced my legs apart with his knee. He raised my arms over my head, holding them by the wrists with one hand. He had my back to the wall and his knees between mine. He pressed his stomach against my bare belly and suddenly I felt the hot thrust of his sex between my legs. He rubbed it against me, trying to push the tip of it down and back far enough to enter me. He bent his knees to try to get into me from underneath, but each time I felt the head of the organ probing at the entrance, I'd jerk my hips so that he couldn't get in.
"I know how to punish you for sucking off that man,' he said. 'I know you need to be punished. And you want to be punished. Come with me and let me give you the punishment you deserve. Oh, I'll be cruel, I promise you that!'
"It was then that I managed to free one of my hands, and I tried to snatch his thing from between my legs. But as I stretched out my hand, I felt the liquid spurt out of his thing, splattering my hand and the flesh between my legs. It clung to the hairs between my thighs and mashed stickily over my skin as I struggled to free myself.
"Then, of his own accord, the man stepped away from me, smiling wryly. I almost had you,' he said. 'Perhaps I'll have you yet.' Abruptly, he took my hand and rubbed the palm across his thing. Then he forced the hand to my face and smeared the liquid on my mouth and cheek. 'That,' he said in a conversational tone, 'is so you'll recognize me if we meet again.'
"He disappeared as abruptly as he appeared, leaving me so confused and bewildered that I wasn't quite sure if I had imagined him, as I'd imagined so many other strange things this evening. Then I ran my tongue over my lips, and I knew that he, at least, had been quite real.
"After that, I got dressed and went out to find Bess. I was quite ready to leave at once, but she suggested that we sit down and smoke one more pipe before we left. It seemed impolite to refuse, so I agreed with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I had found both the pipe and the silver box laying among my clothes in the alcove, and I now filled the pipe for the fourth time that evening and began puffing away with what I hoped was the aplomb of a veteran smoker. As I smoked, I glanced around the room and found that several pairs of eyes were watching me expectantly. 'What do they expect me to do now,' I wondered. 'Take on a Bengal tiger?' The thought amused me, and I giggled. Across the room, a man smiled at me, obviously mistaking my giggling for a sign of encouragement, since, without really seeing him, I had been staring right at him when I began to laugh. Now he raised his eyebrows in a gesture of invitation. But I was in no mood for accepting invitations. 'Can't we go now?' I asked Bess. Haven't you smoked enough?'
" 'Why, yes,' said Bess. 'I guess I have.' She stood up and offered her hand to me, for I was still rather unsteady on my feet. 'Just hand your pipe to somebody,' she said, 'and we'll go.'
"I hesitated a moment. Then, indicating the man who was still smiling at me, I said: 'Would you give it to him? Tell him. ... tell him it's my way of giving him ... what he wants.' I handed her the pipe and slowly made my way toward the alcove through which we had entered, not caring about what the man would say or do when Bess handed him the pipe."
Here, Clara paused in her narrative. She was silent for so long that at last Alice prompted gently: "What happened after that, Clara?"
"Do you remember," asked Clara, "what I said about being able to see perfectly clearly everything that happened last night, as though I were watching a movie?"
"Yes," replied Alice, "I remember."
"Well, at this point, it's like somebody cut the film and then pieced it together again, because I don't remember anything about actually leaving the room or waiting in the outside corridor for Bess. The next thing I do remember is walking arm in arm with Bess, down what I imagined to be a broad avenue lined with trees. All the people we passed were dressed in the style of the eighteen hundreds, and, as we walked by, the men would bow very politely and the women would smile and flutter their fans.
"Suddenly I stopped and clapped my hands. Tm so happy because everyone is so friendly. Don't you get happy when people are friendly?'
"But Bess didn't answer. Instead, she asked: 'You smoke a very large dose of the stuff, don't you?' "What stuff ?" I asked.
" 'The stuff that you were smoking inside just now.'
" 'Oh, yes!' I tried to be very nonchalant. Yes, I do smoke quite a large amount. That way you don't have to fill the pipe so often.'
'"And how long have you been kicking the gong around?' asked Bess.
"Of course, I had no idea what that meant, but it seemed to me that it would be a very grave tactical error to admit it, so I replied: 'Oh, for years and years, I think. Probably before you were born.'
" This made Bess laugh, and her laughter made me laugh. We arrived at her bedroom door in hysterics.'
" Wait a minute,' said Bess, 'it used to be my room when I was a little girl.' This also seemed terribly funny and we started to laugh again.
"Bess opened the door, and I went in, quite forgetting to ask her why we had come back to her room, since mine was closer to the room with the blue lights and I would now have to walk all the way back by myself. Bess turned on all the lights, saying: 'Take off your clothes and lie down. Make yourself comfortable.'
"'Without questioning this rather unusual invitation, I began stripping-for the second time that evening. The brilliance of the lights was torture, and I began bouncing around the room, making a little game out of turning them off. Then I bounced back onto the bed and began singing a wordless little song, which, if I remember correctly, involved the imitation of a big bell and a little bell.
"'Turn around,' said Bess' voice, interrupting my bell-song, "I want you to look at me.'
"I turned ... and gasped. For a moment I was completely speechless. Then I said: 'Oh, it's only rubber, isn't it? For a minute I thought ... I didn't know what to think. And you with breasts and everything!'
'"Everything is right,' said Bess. She was wearing an artificial male sex organ, which was strapped to her waist and thighs with harness which blended so well with her skin that, in the dim fight, I couldn't tell where the harness left off and where Bess began. I've never seen a better one,' said Bess, proudly stroking its erect head, 'it does look just like a real one, but it's better than any real one because it doesn't ever get soft.' She curled her fingers around it and squeezed it. Her palm slipped down and touched the large balloon at its base. I've made love to lots of girls with it,' she said casually, 'including myself, and it's still as good as the day I got it.'
" 'But where did you get such a thing?' I asked. To tell the truth, I was rather embarrassed by it and wished that she would take it off, but I didn't dare say so.
"This one was made for me by a Russian doctor, who died just last year. He made one for a friend of mine with a vibrating motor attachment that's really wild, but this one is fine for me. In fact, I like it better when you have to work a little. The motorized one does the whole job for you ... takes the fun out of it, if you ask me. Of course, you can't buy one like this one, you know. It's even better than the Oriental ones. I was very lucky to have got it when I did.'
"I nodded in what I hoped was an intelligent manner. Naturally, I had no idea of what she was talking about. I had only seen something like what she was wearing once before, and that one wasn't half as realistic as this, nor did it have straps attached to it. So my acquaintance with this sort of thing was very limited. But Bess didn't seem to notice my bewilderment. She was too proud of showing off her toy to really notice much of anything. She sat down next to me on the bed and started stroking my arm. For awhile I was very confused. I wasn't quite sure whether Bess was a man with breasts or a woman with a penis. I was so muddled that I made no protest as she began to fondle my breasts, squeezing my nipples between two fingers and pulling on them gently.
"I was lying on my side, with my head almost level with the artificial penis. I tried to look away from it, but it seemed to hold a certain obscene fascination for me and I had trouble wrenching my eyes away. At last, however, I did lift my eyes, to be confronted by something which startled me even more than the whatchamacalht had. It was a scorpion, right on Bess's stomach, in the exact same place as yours.
"At first, I didn't believe it. I thought it must be the opium playing tricks on me again. So I closed my eyes. But when I opened them again, it was still there. Of course, you can imagine how surprised I was. After all, I had never seen a woman branded before, and to find two women, in the same house, branded in exactly the same manner-with the same brand-is rather shocking.
" 'I see you have one, too,' I said to Bess. " 'One what?' she asked, too absorbed in teasing my nipples to pay much attention. " 'A scorpion,' I replied.
"I felt Bess' fingers freeze on my breasts. Quickly she rolled me over on my back and looked at my belly. "What do you mean, "too?"' she asked.
" 'Someone else I know has one,' I said. I didn't want to say who, because I thought that perhaps you wouldn't want Bess to know. You see, I didn't quite understand what they were for. But Bess said, and it seemed to me that there was relief in her voice: "Oh, you mean Alice! Yes, I'd forgotten that you would have seen hers, too.'
" 'It's sort of a fad here, isn't it?' I asked.
"'Well,' said Bess, 'not exactly. It's more like a sorority.'
" 'Oh?" I said. "What kind of sorority?'
" 'A secret one,' said Bess. "We're really not allowed to talk about it.'
"Naturally, I couldn't say anything else after that, because it would have been rude. But I was very confused. You didn't say anything about a secret sorority, Alice."
"No, Clara, I didn't. Some day I'll explain it to you. But not now. One long story at a time is quite enough. And you haven't finished yours, you know."
"There isn't too much more to tell. Bess obviously regarded the subject of the scorpion as a touchy one, and she seemed to want to distract my mind from it completely. She began teasing my nipples again, and tried to draw me into her arms. I pulled away, but she rolled over almost on top of me and held me close. After the whippings and the brutality of that horrible little man in the alcove, her soft warmth felt good. I wanted to stay in her arms forever, never moving, always feeling the same warm, mildly-exciting feeling running through my body.
"But then, the rubber thing began pushing against my stomach, and I tried to push away again. 'It's so funny feeling that,' I said, 'when you feel so soft and feminine everywhere else.'
"'And I'm soft and feminine under it,' said Bess, guiding my hand along her thigh and between her legs.
"As my hand touched her ... there ... it suddenly occurred to me that I was doing something wrong, that I shouldn't be here at all. How had I gotten here in the first place? ... I wondered, but somehow I couldn't remember.
"I tried to explain to Bess that I must have made a mistake, or perhaps she had made a mistake. At any rate, someone had made a mistake, and if she would be so kind as to get my clothes, I would leave.
"Bess seemed to think that was very funny. She laughed and laughed until one of the notes of her laughter bounced off the wall and, or so it seemed to me, boomeranged into my throat. Then I too began to laugh.
"When we had both laughed ourselves silly, Bess said: You don't really want to go, do you, Clara?'
" 'I don't know,' I said. 'I really don't know what I want.' I noticed that my hand was still between her legs. I tried to withdraw it, but she pressed her thighs together so that I couldn't. So I left my hand there, and Bess slipped hers between my legs and began gently rubbing me there, whispering softly: You want to stay here with me. You want me to make love to you and you want to make love to me. That's what you want, Clara. That's what you want.'
"So gentle and soothing was her voice in my ear that I actually believed it was my own voice I was listening to, the voice of my conscience, telling me to stay here where it was quiet and warm, where no one would whip me or make me do nasty things or watch me degrade myself, here where there was only softness and love. I began to respond to Bess' probing fingers, letting the warmth spread from them into my own body. I spread my legs wide, so that she could see everything there was to see, so that she could fondle and touch every part of me. At the same time, her own thighs relaxed,-and I began to imitate her tickling and touching, doing to her what she was doing to me.
"After a while, Bess withdrew her hand. I want to lass you there,' she whispered, sliding off the bed. 'Move over into the middle,' she said. 'Raise your knees and spread your legs as wide as you can.' I did so, and she came back onto the bed, curling up between my legs. She began running her tongue snakily up the inside of my thigh, but when she got near my privates she suddenly stopped and raised her head. 'Did someone make love to you tonight?' she asked.
"I had forgotten all about that awful little man, but now I remember again, and told Bess the whole ghastly story. 'Oh,' she said, 'that's just Archie. It's just as well that you didn't go with him. He's going to get himself into trouble one of these days. Last week he taped up a girl's wrists and ankles and began cutting himself a new slit in her belly. He said he wanted to deflower her, and that there wasn't an opening in her body someone else hadn't beaten him to.'
"'My God!' I gasped. I was horrified. 'What happened to her?'
" 'Oh, nothing much,' said Bess. 'Luckily for her, he picked the front lawn to perform his little operation, and someone came along before he'd gotten very far. I think she only got about five stitches, and now she's walking around making a complete nuisance of herself, telling everyone the story and showing them her scar. Sometimes I think we'd all have been better off if that guy hadn't come along when he did.'
"Her callousness shocked me terribly, but she soon managed to distract my thoughts with her nimble tongue, which she began snaking in and out of my you-know-what as her hands reached up to pet and stroke my breasts and belly. She continued in that manner for quite some time; then she whispered: You must feel my dildo! Put your hand on it and make it grow big and strong.' She took one of my hands and clasped it to her buttocks and put the other hand on the artificial penis.
" 'It's real,' I gasped. 'I can feel it moving.' I touched it gingerly, and then I slipped my hand underneath the thing to assure myself that it was truly rubber. My hand encountered the soft, moist warmth of Bess' privates, and I was convinced of her true femininity.
"At my touch, Bess rolled over on her side, then onto her back. I sat up, holding the rubber thing in one hand and rubbing Bess between the legs with the other. You're a man-woman,' I said delightedly. You have everything you need to go to bed with yourself.'
"Bess laughed, and the laugh seemed to bounce off the walls with a wild echo. It frightened me, and a shiver ran down my spine. Bess sat up and flung her legs over the side of the bed.
" 'Get down on the floor,' she suggested, 'and lick my thing.'
" 'Oh, no,' I said. 'I couldn't.'
" 'Sure you can, go ahead. Try it. If you don't like it, you can stop.'
"'All right,' I said. I slipped off the bed and knelt between her legs. I began to lick the dildo very cautiously. It had no taste, but it was so realistic that I kept having to look up at Bess to remind myself that it wasn't a man's flesh and muscle that I was licking.
"You should suck it, too,' Bess insisted, and I allowed her to place the tip of it between my lips. Then I put my head forward and sucked more of it into my mouth.
"Did you ever have a feeling that you wanted to bite a man's shaft as hard as you could?' she asked. "I get it sometimes,' she said. 'Sometimes I want to set my teeth into the thing and chew it like a dog chews a bone. She smiled down at me as she rhythmically pushed the false organ in and out of my mouth exactly like a man would have. "You can bite this one if you want to,' she said. Tlease bite it. I want to see your face when you do.'
"I drew my lips back from my teeth and tried to get myself to bite the realistic looking organ, but my jaws refused to close. 'I can't,' I said. 'It looks too real, and I just can't bite it.'
" 'Sure you can,' said Bess in a very matter-of-fact-way. 'If you bite it just once, you'll like it-and after that you won't think you can't any more.
"I forced myself not to think about what I was going to do. Suddenly I sank my teeth into the thing, biting deeply and as hard as I could. It made my jaw ache. 'Chew it,' urged Bess' voice-or perhaps it was my own. 'Chew it as hard as you like.'
"I tore at the thing until a low growl, emanating from my own throat, startled me. Then I began sucking it again, afraid of my own instincts. Suddenly some sweet and luke-warm liquid spurted into my mouth. 'I've spent,' sighed Bess. She moved her thighs, and again the sweetish fluid trickled into my mouth. Without thinking, I swallowed, and then, as the full impact of what had happened hit me, I tore my mouth away and looked up at Bess. She began to laugh as she saw how worried I looked. She laughed and laughed, but this time I couldn't laugh with her, and her laughter only pricked my curiosity more.
"Finally her last giggle sputtered out, and, wiping the tears from her eyes, she said: 'It was wine ... just wine ... but you should have seen the look on your face.' She went off into more gales of laughter.
"This time, when she had stopped laughing, I asked. But how do you do it? I mean, how do you control the flow?'
" 'Oh, that's easy. The balls are filled with it. When I squeeze my legs together, the pressure forced the liquid into the organ and out the tip. Clever, isn't it?'
'"Very clever,' I agreed. 'I've never been so bewildered in all my life.
" 'I can believe it,' said Bess, 'judging from that look on your face.' She was silent for a moment. Then she said: lie down now, Clara, and I'll make love to you. Then you'll really see how life-like it is.'
'Oh, no.' I said. 'Thanks anyway, but I'm already convinced tiiat it's very realistic. I don't need any more demonstrations.'
" 'But don't you want me to make love to you?" asked Bess. 'It's just like having a man inside of you.'
" 'But ... but ... but...." I blurted, 'I've never had a man inside of me.'
"What?' cried Bess, looking really startled for the first time since I had met her. 'Are you joking?'
"It's true,' I said. 'Really.'
"A red tinge spread across Bess' tan face. Tm blushing,' she said incredulously. 'I haven't blushed in years. Whatever is wrong with that man you're with? Let's go find him and I'll remind him of his duties. Why, I just can't believe it!' She looked me up and down for awhile, as if looking for something which would confirm my statement. Then she patted my bottom and said: "I didn't know girls could be so nice and bitchy while they were still virgins. To do all the things you've done and see all the things you've seen and still be a virgin, that's quite a trick. No wonder you seem so embarrassed and squeamish about things.
Why, I'd been getting it regularly for nearly a year before I let a man put his thing in my mouth. She looked at me again and asked: 'Are you three-way'? . "
"Three way?" I asked.
"'You know,' she said. "Moutii, rear-end and between the breasts?'
"Now I could feel myself blushing. 'Yes,' I confessed, hanging my head.
"Bess laughed heartily. 'Bitchy, buggered and bewildered,' she said. 'And still a virgin! What a story! Just wait until you've had a man between the soles of your feet or in your ear. And you haven't really lived until you've done it for a man by taking out your glass eye and winking him off.'
" 'I haven't got a glass eye,' I said, and this sent us both off into fresh spasms of laughter.
" 'Well,' said Bess a little while later, 'if you're a virgin, I certainly don't want to be the one to deflower you. But you can make love to me. I'll show you just what to do.'
"She strapped the dildo into place and said: 'Now you're a man.'
"I stared down at myself. The erect organ stuck out obscenely. I went to the vanity table and looked at myself in the mirror. 'It makes me feel funny,' I said, 'as though I'm not a woman anymore.'
" 'Then come over here,' said Bess, 'and I'll teach you how to act like a man.'
"I went to her. I felt somewhat ashamed, but also very excited by the newness of the experience. She was lying on the bed with her legs spread far apart. As I approached her, she reached up and pulled me down on top of her. She took the dildo in her hands and pushed it in between her legs, rubbing it around and around. Then she moved it back and down between her buttocks and pushed it inside her. She showed me how to support myself with my arms and wrists, and how to brace myself with my feet. Then she showed me how to move my hips and pelvis so that the organ moved in and out of her.
"At first it felt very strange, but after awhile I got used to it. 'I feel as though part of me is really in you,' I whispered in her ear. In response she pressed her body closer to mine and rubbed her breasts against my own. I closed my eyes. The shield of rubber that held the dildo in place against me pressed against my privates. As it rubbed up and down, it excited my nether-lips, and I could almost believe that the sensation was in the organ that I now moved even faster in and out of my girl friend.
"Once more I lost my sense of reality and I imagined that I really was a man. The bed melted away into a mossy bank by a river. It was a bright summer afternoon, the sun was blazing through the trees and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Bess was a young, pretty dairy-maid whom I had found near the river-bank. She had just taken a swim, and her clothes were scattered beside her. I had embraced her, and she had fought me, more out of a belief that she should resist than out of distaste for my caresses. But at last she had given in, and now she was giving me everything she had.
" 'Will you let me do this again, you pretty thing?' I whispered, completely lost in my fantasy. "Will you come here from the dairy every day and let me do it to you?'
"I don't know whether Bess was as lost as I was, or whether she was just humoring me, but she promptly responded: 'Oh, yes. You can do it to me every day. Maybe we can even climb up a tree and do it in the crotch between the big branches. I'd be afraid of falling, but the danger would excite me.'
"We went on like that for some time. Then, finally, Bess gently pushed me away from her. 'Let's lick each other now,' she whispered, unbuckling the dildo. As she did, the last shred of the fantasy drifted away, and I was once more a girl.
" 'We'll be two little Greek girls,' said Bess. You can be a flute player, and I'll be an acrobat.' She kissed my breasts wetly, tickling the nipples with her tongue. Then she showed me how to lie head-to-heels with her so that we were both on our sides with our heads on each other's thighs and bellies.
"In a moment we were kissing and licking each other's thighs, but almost immediately our lips moved simultaneously to each other's privates, and we pressed the lips of our mouths to the lips of the others sex. We tickled each other with our fingers, excited each other with our tongues and with our lips. Oh, Alice!...." Clara broke off suddenly, "I'm so embarrassed! I never thought I could do that with any other woman. And here I am telling you all about it. I am an awful bitch."
"Don't be silly," said Alice Burton firmly. "You should know well enough by now that I'm not at all a jealous person. It makes me very happy to know that you enjoyed yourself with another woman. Only if she treated you badly or didn't satisfy you would I be upset. And it makes me feel good to know that if I hadn't been good for you, you never would have gone with Bess. So don't be ashamed. And do tell me the rest of the story."
"Well," said Clara doubtfully, "all right. We went on to do all the things you taught me to do. We kissed and licked and lapped and sucked. We rubbed our bellies together and rolled back and forth across the bed. Sometimes I felt as though I were going to explode, and I think Bess felt the same way. I don't know how many climaxes we had. It seemed like hundreds. We went on like that for hours, until finally we were both so exhausted we couldn't move any more. We lay there and rested for a while, and then got up and went around the room, collecting my clothing.
""Won't you come downstairs with me?' I asked Bess. 'It must be wonderful downstairs.'
" 'Later, maybe,' she replied. 'Right now I just want to rest. You nearly knocked the life out of me. You virgins are too much for us sex-crobats. And besides, I promised some people I'd go back to the party and smoke some more with them.'
"
"You're going to tell them what you did with me, aren't you?' I asked. 'Well,' I went on without waiting for the answer, 'tell them I was a wicked, wicked little girl.' I went to the door.
'"Aren't you going to put your clothes on?' asked Bess.
"I laughed, blew her a kiss and skipped out the door with my clothes under my arm. I meant to go downstairs, but I stopped as I passed the the door to my room. I thought of the long curved staircase down to the parlor, and I pictured those steps, stretching for miles and miles. Then I seemed to remember that there were several complicated turns to make ... to the right, to the left, to the left, back to the right. The journey began to take on the importance of a long trek, requiring, it seemed to me, the equipment of a safari, and the natural fortitude of an explorer with a pith helmet and three days' growth of beard. 'It would be foolish,' I said to myself, 'to go so far, when I can be so happy right here!'
"I went into the room, undressed, climbed into bed and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, you were in the room with me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Alice Burton smiled reassuringly as Clara finished her story. "Well, my dear," said the older woman, "you've had quite a night of it. But I wouldn't worry if I were you. You may feel terribly ashamed now, but in a few days your memory of the opium party should be no worse than the memory of a bad dream. Meanwhile, you've had some very interesting and valuable experiences-experiences which will contribute greatly to your development as a sensual human being, and as a woman. I'm especially pleased to learn that you rediscovered on your own some of the pleasures of lesbian love which I first introduced to you. And now"-she smiled enticingly-"if you'd like to explore some of these pleasures a bit further, I'd be more than happy to serve as your guide. I just happen to have in my room a dildo very much like the one Bess showed you. I imagine that I know a few tricks she doesn't. Why don't you come with me and-"
"Oh, no," Clara interrupted, her facial expression testifying to her apparent alarm. "I'd never do those things again." Then, as if realizing that Alice might take offense at her refusal, she added quickly: "I mean, Alice, I'm not quite ready for any more sex right now. I feel much too ashamed and embarrassed. But perhaps later-" She let the sentence trail off.
"Of course," said Alice knowingly. "I understand completely." She got up from the bed. "Still, we can spend the rest of the day together if you like. That is, unless you've made plans to pass your time with someone else ... "
"As a matter-of-fact," replied Clara quickly "I'm expecting a visit from Conrad. He's taking me to the Black Mass tonight, and we're supposed to have a part in the ceremony. I think he might want to rehearse."
"Of course." Alice's smile was pained. "Perhaps I should leave now, then. Or would you like me to stay with you until he gets here?"
"I'd like very much for you to stay. But I do expect him soon ... "
As if on cue, Garnett pounded a shave-and-a-haircut rhythm on the door, then poked his head inside. "Ah, what a lovely afternoon!" he beamed enthusiastically. "And here you two are missing the best part of it! Or should I say that you've found something better than weather to gratify your senses?"
"Don't be so gauche, Conrad," scolded Alice Burton. "All we were doing is talking."
"In bed, of course," observed the devil's advocate.
"If I've learned to spend most of my time in bed, Conrad, it's because you taught me to," said Clara tartly. "And why didn't you wait for me to answer your knock before you barged in? Your manners are abominable."
"Oh well," mused Garnett, "here at La Casa Blanca, amenities aren't always observed."
"Isn't he so gallant,' said Alice dryly.
Gamett flopped into an armchair and lighted a cigarette. "Gallantry, slimallantry. Clara's my date, Alice."
"How bitchy. How absolutely bitchy."
"She's right, Conrad," said Clara. "You're a total demon this afternoon."
Gamett smiled. "Ah, yes. Oh my, yes. Oh-my-ass." He blew a thin stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "But I didn't come here to swap insults, ladies. I came to invite you to poolside for a little sun and a little water. What say you both slip into your bathing suits and join me?"
Alice got up from the bed. "That's a hint if I ever heard one-seeing as how I'll have to go to my room to put my bathing suit on. But I'll overlook your impoliteness this afternoon, Conrad, because frankly I'd like nothing more than a little sun right now." She crossed the room to the door. "I'll meet you both at the pool in ten minutes. And, if you're a second late, I'll think the worst of both of you." Smiling lasciviously, she made her exit.
"You really are a boor, Conrad," said Clara when the door was shut behind Alice. "You made Alice feel very badly."
Gamett took another drag oh his cigarette. "So much the worse for her. We've got business to discuss. And it's important enough that I'm not even going to try to feel you up while I tell you about it."
"Well, well, well!" said Clara. "It must really be important."
"It is." Gamett ground out his cigarette in an ash tray and leaned forward in his chair. "Everything's all set for the Black Mass tonight. You're going to serve as the altar on which the Mass will be celebrated. And, after the High Priest has anointed you with wine, I, as the Deacon, will devirginate you."
"What does this have to do with our trapping The Scorpion?"
"You'll see. As for now, all I can say is this: follow my instructions and leave everything to me. I'm the only one who'll tell you what to do. If anyone else gives you an order or a command, don't obey or answer. Just remain silent. Speak only if and when I tell you to. But let me warn you: if you don't cooperate fully in everything I say, I won't be responsible for the consequences. I want you to understand, Clara, that this will not be a dangerous undertaking if you obey me fully. But if you disobey, the experience could be disastrous. Do I make myself clear?"
"Quite clear, Conrad."
"Good. Now, as concerns the details: after dinner tonight, I want you to return here to your room. At ten o'clock, a woman will come for you. She'll be gowned in black, and she'll be wearing a black mask. She'll bring you everything you'll need for the ceremony, including underwear and shoes as well as your outer wearing apparel. I took the liberty of checking your dress and shoe sizes yesterday morning while you were asleep, so the garments will all fit."
"You're really very thorough, aren't you?"
"I try to be. Anyway, I suggest that you wear a dressing gown with nothing under it when the woman arrives. That way you won't have to waste time undressing. You must be ready to leave here at 11:30 at the very latest, and you'll need all of an hour and a half to prepare yourself. The Black Mass is scheduled to start at precisely twelve, and delays will not be tolerated."
"Where do you fit into the picture?" Clara asked. "I mean, when will I see you? And what will we do together?"
"You'll get the answers to those questions in due time. As for now, all I can tell you is to follow the instructions of the woman who comes to dress you. More than that you don't need to know." He got up from his chair. "Now, get your bathing suit on and let's go to the pool. I want to mingle with some of the people I'm spying on, and every minute we waste here is a minute we could use to much better advantage elsewhere."
Clara got out of bed, fished her bathing suit from a dresser drawer and withdrew to the bathroom to change. Garnett watched the tantalizing movements of her lithe young body as she moved about the room, but he made no attempt to follow her into the bathroom. When she emerged dressed in the bathing suit, he beamed approvingly at her and ran his palm appreciatively across her firm, round buttocks. Then he led her down the stairs to the pool.
At poolside, he and she joined Alice Burton for a round of drinks. They chatted a while, then Garnett wandered off with Blanca Mason. Alice and Clara spent the rest of the afternoon together, discussing Alice's ideas about sex and sensuality. Then it was dinner time, and Conrad returned to escort the two ladies to the dining room. Soon the meal was over and Clara returned alone to her room. The time was 9:30. The big moment was rapidly drawing near.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
At exactly ten o'clock, there was a knock on Clara's door. Clara, wearing nothing but a wrap-around dressing gown and a pair of satin slippers, admitted her caller-a slender, black-clad figure who stood at the threshold clutching a large cardboard box.
The caller entered the room and closed the door behind her. She was enveloped in an enormous hooded cloak of black satin which concealed both her figure and her hair. Her mask, woven of jet beads, allowed her to see and breathe with complete freedom, while at the same time it completely obscured features.
The apparition-or so she seemed to be, so silent was she-now glided to the vanity table and laid her parcel on it. She opened the box carefully, beckoning to Clara with one black-gloved finger to join her. Clara crossed to the table as bidden. Her visitor withdrew from the box an array of vials, tubes, bottles and brushes. Then she proceeded to make up the young girl's face, lavishly enhancing her eyes with black mascara and glossy white eye shadow, rouging her cheeks and lips heavily.
Next the mysterious woman took a small green bottle with an atomizer head and began to spray a peculiarly musky perfume over Clara, literally from head to toe, paying particular attention to the ripe red berries which crowned her tow snow-white breasts and to the ruby treasure nestled beneath the silky locks curling delicately between her legs. Then, putting the atomizer aside, she lightly rouged the nipples and the lips of the welted slit, crimsoning to perfection their already-rosy complexion.
Now the silent chambermaid began to manicure Clara's hands, completing the process of applying several coats of white, frosty enamel to each shell-like oval. While the polish dried, she sprayed Clara's hair with lacquer. Clara sat silently, her hands on the table, fingers slightly spread, seemingly awed by her mute visitor, who now swept all the toilet articles back into the box.
Next the woman took from the box an armful of white, lacy lingerie. She motioned to Clara to stand up. Then she fastened a fine white garter about the girl's alabaster loins. The garter was followed by a lacy brassiere, custom-made to clasp in front. After that were stockings, gossamer-sheer, and a pair of white lace step-ins.
Now the black-clad figure drew from the seemingly bottomless box a tissue paper-wrapped garment, which she placed on the bed. Carefully, she folded back the protective wrapping and lifted out a white, silk-brocade, floor-length sheath. She held it out to Clara, and the young girl gasped with delight. "Oh," she cried, speaking for the first time since the visitor had entered the room, "Oh, it's gorgeous."
It was obviously a hand-made garment, one with which the designer and the dress-maker had apparently taken great pains-for unlike most evening gowns of the day, it did not fasten at the back, but rather, in the front, by means of a zipper which ran the entire length of the gown. This zipper was cleverly concealed by a panel of fabric which blended so perfectly into the rest of the material that it was completely un-noticeable. The style of the gown was starkly simple. It had fitted, full-length sleeves and a high mandarin neck. The only decorative touch lay in the long side slits, which were ornamented with seed pearls.
Clara hastily slipped her arms into the sleeves of the magnificent creation, and her mysterious maid knelt and zipped the zipper up to the neck. She motioned Clara before the mirror. Once again the girl gasped. "Why, it fits as though it were made for me!" she cried. "As though it were molded to my body."
And indeed it did. The rich fabric clung to every curve of the supple young body, displaying every nuance, betraying every subtlety. The side slits rose to the lower part of Clara's luscious thighs, parting temptingly each time the girl took a step, revealing glimpses of flesh smooth and white as marble. The black-cloaked apparition nodded her approval, then delved back into the box to produce a pair of white lace wrist-length gloves, a pair of white brocade sling-back pumps and a white florist's box. The pumps were handed to Clara, the gloves and box placed on the vanity table. Then the silent figure took from the box a hood of chantilly lace, set with seed pearls. This she slipped over Clara's head. It looked rather like a bridal veil: from under its heavy crown of pearls, lace billowed prettily, falling to Clara's chin, where it was tucked and pleated so that it ballooned out at the hem, creating a bubble-like effect.
The mute aide now applied the finishing touches to Clara's toilette. Once more she took the green atomizer and sprayed the young girl head to foot, innundating the fabric of both the gown and veil with a sweetly heavy odor. Next, she handed Clara the gloves. Then back she plunged into the box for another tissue paper-wrapped package, this time a white satin, floor-length cape with a mandarin collar, white pearl buttons and slits for the arms. This she helped Clara into, leaving the girl to button it herself, as she returned to the florist's box and produced a large and extraordinarily beautiful camellia.
The silent figure pinned the flower to the cape, then stepped back to examine her work. Nodding approval, she beckoned Clara to follow her.
"I'm sorry," said Clara, "but, before we go, could I ... I mean ... I guess I should have gone before, but ... the excitement and everything...." She indicated the bathroom with a wave of her hand. Her chaperone nodded consent, and Clara, handing her gloves to the masked figure, hastened through the bathroom door.
When Clara returned, her silent companion led her down the hallway and out of the house. She then guided her along a path which led through a nearby wood to a large cabin, built in the style of a Swiss chalet. The thick, oak door to the cabin was decorated with a wrought iron knocker in the shape of a scorpion.
Now the black-cloaked figure lifted the scorpion and let it fall, producing a crash which resounded loudly in the soft stillness of the night. Almost immediately the door opened and the two cloaked figures were admitted into the dark, candle-lit interior of the chalet. The thick door closed heavily behind them.
Clara found herself in a large, wood-paneled room, the only furnishings of which were ten oak benches, arranged haphazardly, and four, gigantic carved candelabra, each of which held six, three-foot-high black candles. On the far wall was a door. Clara's masked companion led her through it. A moment passed, then the door opened again, and Garnett, magnificent in a flowing black cape, came striding into the room.
The Devil's Advocate glanced at his watch, then at the two cloaked figures. "Good," he said, "it's only 11:15. You're early. That gives us plenty of time." He took Clara by the shoulders and peered appreciatively into her sparkling blue eyes. "Well," he smiled, "let's look at you." He put his arm around her, then drew back and surveyed her with a pleased expression. "Very nice," he beamed. "Especially on such short notice. Well, kitten, are you happy with your outfit?"
"Oh, yes, Conrad, very happy. It's just beautiful. Why, I feel almost like a bride...."
Garnett looked from Clara to her black-clad chaperone, then back again, an ironic smile on his lips. "Very pretty," he murmured. "Very pretty indeed. The black and the white. I trust, Clara, that the significance of the two colors has not escaped you. Black and white; evil and good-impurity and purity. You do get it, don't you, Clara?"
"Why, yes, Conrad, I get it. Why do you ask?"
He ignored the question. "Ah, black and white," he went on, appearing almost to be talking to himself. "It seems almost a shame to spoil it-to sully the pure, to stain the whiteness. Yes it seems almost a shame. And such a lovely contrast. The black and the white, the virtuous and the debauched." Suddenly his tone sharpened, and he seemed to snap out of the reverie. "The young lady seated next to you, Clara," he said, "is my acolyte. She will assist in every step of your defloration. Just as she robed you tonight, she will also disrobe you. She will stand by me throughout the entire act. It is she who will hold you down if you show the slightest signs of resistance, and it is she who will prepare the way for the ultimate penetration."
Clara turned toward the black masked figure, who remained deathly silent.
"Don't you think you should thank her, Clara?" asked Garnett. "Thank her?" echoed Clara.
"Yes, thank her. For acting as my acolyte, for assisting me tonight. Go ahead, Clara, thank her."
"Th ... thank you," stammered Clara.
The masked head acknowledged the expression of gratitude with a brief nod.
"And now," said Garnett, "Aren't you curious about the identity of this acolyte? Haven't you wondered what face lurks under that mask? Is it perhaps the face of someone you know? An acquaintance? Maybe your charming hostess, Blanca Mason? Or the delightful Miss Lynd. Or perhaps a more intimate friend? Maybe Alice Burton?" His eyes took on a glazed look, and his right hand began stroking the bulge in his robe. "Or perhaps an even more intimate acquaintance?" He raised his left hand almost imperceptibly. The girl's black-gloved fingers lifted the mask just as he said: "Your sister, perhaps!"
Clara whirled toward the figure. "Rita!" she shrieked. "Rita!! ! " She fell on the other girl's neck and kissed her hysterically. "Oh, my God" she whispered. "Oh, my God" She drew back then, seemingly in horror. "What have they done to you, Rita? What have they done to you that you can do this to me? To help ... to watch ... oh, God! What have they done to you?"
Rita leaned forward and took Clara's hand in hers. Then, for the first time, she spoke.
"Listen to me, Clara," she said. Her voice was gentle, almost compassionate. "I want you to understand that I didn't want to do it. Believe me I didn't." She spoke slowly and coolly, her calmness contrasting as sharply with Clara's hysteria as her black garments contrasted with the younger girl's white ones. The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable as she went on: "But I had to do it. He forced me to do it, Clara. I tried to refuse. I tried to argue, even to bargain, but I couldn't. He insisted. He said he'd never touch me again if I didn't assist in your defloration. You know," she added in a clinically impersonal tone, "I love you. You're my sister. You're the only family I've got. I wouldn't hurt you for the world. But if he insisted on it, I'd kill you. That's how much he means to me. I'll do anything he tells me to. Just as long as he loves me, just as long as he keeps on making love to me, I'll do anything he wants."
Clara seemed totally stunned. "Who are you talking about?" she asked. "Who is this man who can make you say such evil things?"
Rita looked surprised. "Why, the Scorpion," she replied.
"The Scorpion!" Clara gasped. "Who is he, Rita? You must tell me."
Now Rita looked incredulous. "You mean you don't know?" She glanced toward Garnett for confirmation. "She really doesn't know?" she asked him.
"No, she doesn't know," he replied. "But I think that now is as good a time as any to tell her. Clara, what would you say if I told you that in one hour from now you'll be deflowered by ... the Scorpion?"
A tiny shriek rose from Clara's throat. "No!" she whispered. "Oh, no, Conrad. You promised. You said it would be you. Nobody else! You promised!"
"Precisely. And I never break a promise."
"But ... you said ... but ... I don't understand . . Clara stammered. "If you're going to do it, how can the Scor...." She broke off suddenly. "Oh, no. No! You! I don't believe it. You're lying to me. You're making a joke. I don't believe it. I won't. I won't."
Rita put her arms around her sister's shaking shoulders and hugged the younger girl close. "It's true, Clara," she said. "Conrad is the Scorpion.
"No!" wailed Clara. "No! No! I won't believe it. She sobbed wildly for several minutes. Then, suddenly, she grew still. She raised her head from Rita's breast and turned to Garnett. "You tell me," she said. "I want to hear you say it."
"It's true." he said.
"No. Say the whole thing. Go ahead. Say it. Say: 'I, Conrad Garnett, attorney-at-law, am the Scorpion. Go on, say it."
"Clara," chuckled Garnett, "this is foolishness."
"I don't care. I won't move until you say it. If you want me out there, you'll have to carry me. And rape me. And the whole time I'll scream. I'll scream until you'll have to knock me unconscious, because you won't be able to stand it anymore. Believe me, Conrad. I mean it."
"All right," said the Devils advocate wearily, 'I, Conrad Garnett, attorney-at-law, and the Scorpion. Are you happy now?"
"Yes," said Clara with surprising steadiness, "very happy." She gave Garnett an almost radiant smile. "You did everything I asked you to. You found my sister, and you uncovered the Scorpion. Of course, it was a great shock, all coming at once like this. But, now that I think of it, how can I really be angry with you, when all you did was what I asked you to do?" She smiled at Rita and kissed her soundly. Then she ran lightly to Garnett and kissed him, too. "My sister loves you." she said. "And I love her. If it'll make her happy, then I'll do anything you ask."
"Including being branded with a scorpion?" asked Rita.
Clara's eyes widened, but she answered somberly: "Yes, including being branded with a scorpion."
Garnett shook his head incredulously. "Women!" he said. Then he glanced at his watch. "But the hour grows late. The ceremony is about to begin. Put on your mask, Rita. And come with me, both of you." He opened the door and extended his arms sideways. Each sister linked one of her arms through one of his, and the trio made its way back to the main chamber.
Several changes had taken place in the large room during the three quarters of an hour that Garnett and the two girls had been away. For one thing, the benches were now arranged in neat rows, resembling church pews, and there were about thirty people, all in evening dress, seated on them. Also, in the space between the two inner doors, there had been constructed a high platform, with a movable stairway pushed up against it. The platform was draped in black velvet. On it was a small lectern, holding a heavy, Bible-like book and a gigantic crucifix, positioned upside down. A similar crucifix, also inverted, stood at the door.
Garnett ushered the sisters to a bench in the first row, directly in front of the platform. The trio seated itself just as a chime sounded, then another and another until twelve chimes had rung. As the twelfth one died out, an organ resounded through the chamber.
A hush now came over the assemblage as the door at the left of the room opened, admitting a procession of black-robed and masked men. The men carried slim, black, lighted tapers and paraded silently about the room, positioning themselves at regularly spaced intervals.
Garnett looked up with a start.
"What is it?" whispered Rita.
"This wasn't planned," he whispered back. "I didn't tell Blanca anything about bringing in any guys with candles. Something's funny."
"Don't be silly," hissed Rita. "Maybe she just forgot to tell you. Who's the priest, anyway?"
Garnett grinned and looked at Clara. "An old friend of your sister's," he said to Rita.
It was Clara's turn to start. "Who?" she gasped. "Can't you guess."
"No. Tell me."
"John Webster.
"Oh." Clara grinned mirthlessly, but she seemed somehow relieved. "Some friend he is."
"And there he is," whispered Garnett, momentarily distracted from his worries over the unexpected change in procedure as the door on the left once again swung open and a tall figure, clad in richly-jeweled black velvet, a cowl over his features, walked through the doorway and mounted the stairs to the platform.
The organ swelled to a crescendo, then fell silent as the Black Priest raised his hand. As if on cue, the hooded men around the room snuffed out their candles.
"Okay, don't anybody move," said the man on the platform. "My men are armed, and they've got you covered. This is a raid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The corridor is long and dark. It leads to a cell. The guard ushers you into the cell, then slams the door shut. You're alone.
Yes Garnett, you're alone.
Alone.
And under arrest.
You never thought it'd come to that, did you?
But it did, didn't it?
And now here you are.
So what do you have to say for yourself?
Not much, huh?
No, not much.
You won't say anything, because you know that anything you say will be held against you. And you don't have to say anything. They really have the goods on you They can put you away for the rest of your life. And all because you pushed things a little too far. Sure, it was fun while it lasted. But now it's over.
The chickens have come home to roost.
And you're at the end of the line.
What was it the D.A. said?
Crimes against nature...
Unlawful possession of narcotics...
Contributing to the delinquency of a minor...
Sodomy....
Yep.
They really threw the book at you.
And you couldn't even duck, because the evidence was overwhelming.
What you need is a real good lawyer-the best lawyer in the business.
Unfortunately, he's indisposed---