Chapter 3
She came toward him as though she were going to kiss him, and he involuntarily reached-or half-reached for her before he realized that she wanted only to take his hat. Then he followed her into the living room, jealous of the light summer dress which clung so possessively to her young body.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked. "I read in the papers that you like gin-rickeys, so I bought some lemons and stuff."
"How nice of you!" he beamed appreciatively. "As a matter-of-fact, I'd love one. I'm really parched. But I don't like to drink alone. You'll have one with me, won't you?"
"Okay. But you'd better help me mix them. I usually make them too weak."
She led the way into the kitchen, and he marveled at the change which had come over her since her visit to his office that morning. There she had been nervous and awkward, a gangly kid from the sticks who didn't know her buttocks from home plate. Now, here in her apartment, she was the picture of poise and self-assurance-a lovely morsel, and a perfect hostess to boot.
He stood beside her as she squeezed the lemons and strained their juice over the sugar-coated cubes in the large cocktail shaker. Then he poured the gin, at the same time intoxicating himself with her smell-the heady aroma of young sweat and scented soap and good perfume. His glance dropped to her breasts; his mind was already between her thighs.
"Any news from your sister?" he asked.
"No. Not a word."
"Well, don't worry. She's safe and sound. I'm sure of it."
She smiled winningly. "Believe it or not, I'm not worried at all anymore. I guess it's because I know you're in my corner. You'd be surprised how much reassurance you've given me. But I guess it's that way with all your clients."
"Yes," he conceded immodestly, "it generally is."
She arranged their glasses on a small serving tray and carried it out to the terrace, which offered a commanding view of the river. Then they sat opposite each other on a pair of matching wicker chairs and touched the glasses together in a silent toast. A breeze rustled through the dusk as the moon rose suddenly over the water. Her skirt billowed, and he got a glimpse of her soft, marble-white thighs.
Lovely view," he observed pointedly.
"I like it very much," she replied, evidently unaware of the panorama which interested him most. "Rita and I had thought of renting a less expensive apartment, but, after we looked out at the city from the terrace of this one, we decided to forego a few other luxuries instead."
"A wise choice, I think."
'Yes, I think so, too-although I'll confess that I sometimes have second thoughts when the first of the month rolls around."
They exchanged a few more banalities. Then the breeze lifted her skirt again, just as she uncrossed her legs. Apparently unnoticed by her, the hem came to rest high above the tops of her rolled stockings. Garnett sipped his drink and pitted his eyesight against the dusk.
If her legs had remained covered, he wouldn't have noticed anything unnatural about her posture. But, now that they were bare where the skirt had gently fallen back, she appeared to have taken a particularly suggestive position. Her knees were turned slightly outward, and the naked inner sides of her thighs gave the impression that more was being shown than actually was.
"I think it would be very thrilling to be a criminal lawyer," she was saying. 'You probably get a great deal of satisfaction from defending an innocent man."
"It's very satisfying," Garnett replied. "There's nothing quite like it"
But his present source of satisfaction had nothing whatsoever to do with the practice of criminal law. While she was speaking, she had drawn up one knee. In so doing, she had bared to his sight the entire underside of her leg, from calf to buttock. It now hung there like a gigantic, ripe and somewhat ill-proportioned pear. It was funny, he mused, how much more there was to a woman's leg than a man ordinarily sees.
Her skin was pink under a light coating of tan, and he could even distinguish the line of lighter color where her bathing suit had kept her upper thigh from tanning. Where the naked leg joined its twin on the seat there was-there was-no, it was growing darker, and there was nothing. Garnett sighed, but his disappointment did not sour him to the extent of forcing his eyes elsewhere.
Clara presently began to relate her life story. The circumstances and the view being what they were, Garnett sat there silently and let her talk. She described her childhood with Rita, their schooling and the tired little tragedy of their parents' deaths. Then, just as she came to the part about their move from the country to the city, the breeze spitefully carried her skirt back down over her knees. Garnett suggested that they go inside and examine Rita's effects.
Clara led the way to the bedroom and flicked on a light. "This is it," she announced, tugging open the drawer.
Garnett carefully lifted it out of the bureau and placed it in the center of the bed. Then he sat on one side of it and motioned for Clara to sit on the other. "Exhibit A," he observed, "one pair of green silk panties."
"Oh, those are mine!" she exclaimed, snatching them from his hand and running off to the closet with them.
"I thought this was Rita's drawer," he said dryly.
"I-I was using that old silk thing as a dust cloth when I found what she hid in here." Her face was ruddy with blushes, and he eyed her with considerable amusement. He wondered if her discovery had inspired her to masturbate, and, for a moment, he could almost see her worrying that hair would grow on her palm if she played with herself.
But he didn't pursue the matter. "Yes, a dust cloth," he said. "I see." Then he began picking through the drawer, lifting up objects at random and laving them on the bed as he finished inspecting them.
The first item which attracted his attention was a linen envelope. On its face was a Chinese letter, painted in delicate red brush-strokes. Inside: six condoms of extraordinarily good manufacture, printed in gay colors and curiously armed with an array of rubber spikes, knobs, dimples, nipples, fins, studs, tiny fingers, whiskers and bits of sponge.
Next came a book of etchings, hand-tinted with water colors, and a scorpion bookplate on the inside front cover. The workmanship was sumptuous. He lingered for a moment on one plate which depicted a pair of girls engaged in mutual cunnilingus while they swung through the air, supported by flying rings through which one girl had hooked her knees. Clara could not resist peeking at the drawing which intrigued him. He looked up suddenly and she swallowed hard.
Next was a small bocca-da-gazza case of shantung silk with a bone clasp. It contained two silver balls of a size slightly smaller than a walnut. Clara looked puzzled, and the devil's advocate offered an explanation. "Japanese. It's called a rin-no-tamma set." She nodded brightly, as if she really knew what he was talking about.
Next came three small books, each decorated with the now-familiar scorpion bookplate. The first was Memoirs of Madame Condeux, a well-known erotic classic. The second was Sixty-Nine Delightful Ways To Sin, less well-known but equally classic. The third was a two-in-one special, The Art of the Tongue and Ten Inches Above the Garter, both illustrated with photographs. Clara averted her eyes as he examined them.
Next came an object which was, yet was not, a male sexual organ. More precisely, it was a rubber replica, excellent in proportion and design, hollow rather than solid and therefore extremely life-like to the touch. Obviously it had been made to fit standards which were quite exacting, especially with respect to size. Garnett got rid of it without overmuch delay, although it was indeed an admirable bit of workmanship. Indeed, its workmanship was its fault. It was too real. Even its coloring was perfectly human. Every vein was indicated, every nuance of tan and pink and red. Garnett could not touch it without thinking of himself as a sodomite. He gingerly placed it on the bed, observing as he did that Clara's cheeks were crimson.
Next he examined a small cat-o'-nine-tails, but with only five tads. It was fashioned from the finest and softest of leathers-kidskin, to be sure-and braided by a master hand, tooled and worked with a wealth of fine design. He gave it an experimental flick, to which Clara did not react, then abandoned it alongside the other objets d'art.
Next came a small silver box, not unlike a snuff-box, containing a quantity of broken greenish-black shreds, not unlike tea. "Cannabis," he said, sniffing it.
"What?" she asked.
"Hmmm? Oh, a sort of Indian tobacco. We'll have to try some of it sometime. It's hard to get because of the tax."
Finally there was Rita's diary, a book of padded ivory leather with a ridiculous miniature lock which did not lock. The handwriting was soft, curling and barely legible, riffled through the pages, then set the volume on the bed alongside the box of marijuana.
The inspection having thus been completed, Garnett and his pretty young client sat in the midst of the artifacts of Rita's secret sex life like two castaways. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Clara lit a cigarette and asked: What do you make of it all?"
"Very interesting," replied Garnett. "Very interesting. But I can't say that it proves much. The books are rare and some of the other objects are even rarer. Still none is rare enough that we'd be able to trace its purchaser."
"How about the diary?"
He picked it up and riffled through the pages again, finally stopping at one of the more curious entries. "I don't seem to be able to make out the handwriting," he lied, knitting his brows. "Would you read it to me?"
"Oh, but really!" Clara remonstrated. "Why the words are just awful! I couldn't bring myself to repeat them!"
"Come now, don't be coy. How else can we investigate this thing?" He moved some of the objects on the bed to one side, sat next to her and thrust the little book onto her lap. "Here. Start with this entry."
She hesitated for a moment, then began reading in a low voice. "'It was wonderful last night, more wonderful than ever. But each time always seems more wonderful than the last.'"
"Excellent!" he applauded. I couldn't make out a word of that myself. Read some more."
" 'I went to his apartment. He was waiting for me. We didn't say a word, but he kissed me as soon as I entered the room. When he did, our bodies touched, and I knew that he had been thinking of me, for I felt-felt-'"
"Go on. What's the matter?"
"I can't read that word."
He took the book from her hands and studied it. "Prick," he informed her. "'I felt his prick.' You see, what she is saying is that when their bodies touched she felt his prick. Do you understand?"
"Yes. but I can't read words like that out loud to you."
He chuckled softly. "Dear, sweet girl. I'm sorry to have to ask you to do this. But your innocence will keep such words from actually touching you. I'm the only one who hears you say them, and I know that it isn't really you who's saying them; it's Rita. You must be Rita's voice for me, or else we'll never learn what happened to her. Every word in this diary may be important to us." He put the book back in her hands. "Come now, read some more."
"I'll try," she promised bravely.
"Good girl." He patted her on the knee. "I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this yet."
" I knew that he had been thinking of me'" she resumed bravely, " 'for I felt his-prick-pressing against my belly. We fairly ran into the living room, and there, before that great Chinese Budda, I pulled off my things. I shook the snow from my coat, then I stripped to the skin without once pausing. Meanwhile, my darling simply stood and stared while I undressed.
" 'I was in a perfect fury to get completely naked, for I wanted the detestable clothes off me and my darling on me. Still, I remembered how he liked to see me in various stages of undress, so I took my time and let him see everything nice that there was to see about each stage. I looked back over my shoulder while I took off my snow boots. Then I took off my coat and dress. By the time my underwear was off, his eyes were shining. I was facing away from him, and I knew that, between my buttocks, he could see the bright pink lips of my sex. He always loved looking at me that way. Men are so silly, aren't they? Who can understand them? One glimpse of a girl's tender-most spot and their-their-pricks get stiff as a stick.'"
"What's wrong, Clara?" asked Garnett. Why have you stopped?"
"I-I just can't go on. That-that word. That awful word!"
"But my child, it's only a word." He folded his arms across his lap so that she could not see the physical effect which her hesitant pronouncing of the word had upon him. "Wasn't it Shakespeare who said, What's in a word?'"
"But, Mr. Garnett, it's disgusting. It's the most disgusting word I know."
"The most disgusting?"
"Well maybe the second-most disgusting. Or the third."
"But why should it disgust you?"
"I-I don't know. I really don't know."
"Well, if we're going to get any place with this diary, you've got to purge yourself of this disgust. I'd suggest that you try saying the word aloud several times."
"Several times? Without even reading it? Oh, Mr. Garnett!" 'Try." 'But."
"You must."
"Well."
"I'm waiting."
For a moment she was silent. Then her lips formed a letter "p" and she whispered the word slowly: "Prick."
"Again," coached the devil's advocate. "Prick," she said a trifle louler. "Again."
"Prick."
"Again."
Her tone was firm and clear. "Prick!"
"Excellent. Now resume reading."
She lowered her eyes to the diary. "'As soon as I was stark naked, I ran to the fire which was burning in the grate and stood by it, pretending to warm my behind. I wasn't merely pretending, though, for it had been terribly cold outside. Then my darling came to me and said that he would help me warm up. So I got a footstool and bent across it and had him switch me. That warmed both of us.
'"When he had given me a switching that smarted beautifully, he threw the birch rod into the fire and took off his clothes. I lay at his feet, adoring him while he undressed. My bottom was burning, and my insides were itching like crazy. Switching certainly is a wonderful invention! And, for me, it's certainly wonderful to belong so thoroughly to a man that he can even beat you!
" 'As soon as he was naked, I asked his permission to kiss him. He said yes, and I brought my eager lips to his thighs, and his belly and his-his-prick.' See, Mr. Garnett? I said it. 'But he wouldn't let me put it in my mouth, no matter how much I begged him. Instead, he took me to the sofa and we stretched out, side by side, our bellies touching, and he teased me for a while.
"'I thought he never was going to let me have it, but at last he allowed me to hold it in my hand and play with it, and soon I was holding it warmly between my legs. I was anything but cold by this time, but still I was shivering because I was so passionate, and he teased me, asking if I wanted more of the switch. So I said yes, I wanted anything that would bring his-his prick with it. I was only joking, but he took me seriously, and went to fetch another rod.
" 'There weren't any left, so he brought back a light watch chain and a wet silk cloth to spread over my buttocks so that the chain wouldn't cut me. He made me he on the sofa, my face buried in a couple of big, soft pillows, while I took another whipping.
'"The second whipping hurt much more than the first, and I cried. Actually he was gentle with me. If he hadn't been, the chain could have been sheer torture instead of being nice and exciting like it was. Still, it hurt. But I wouldn't stop him for the world.
" 'As he hit me, I could see his prick standing upright, erect as a hat rack, and the tears in my eyes seemed to make him go wild. When he pulled off the silk cloth and dropped the chain, my bottom was red as a lobster. It burned like fire. And I was on fire inside, too. I could hardly wait for him to leap on me. I flung my legs open and turned over onto my back. I was dripping with passion. He threw himself into the saddle just as hard as he could. By this time, his prick was bursting out of its skin,' like an overdone hot dog, and he made love to me like a beast. I could see that he was no more thinking of me as who I was than I don't know what.. . '" Clara looked up, puzzled. "What does she mean by that?"
"It's just confused writing," Garnett explained. "Evidently she got so aroused while recalling her experience that she lost all track of what she was saying. Read some more. Maybe the matter will be clarified."
" 'I was just an instrument to him then,' "Clara went on. " 'I was just aa-"
"Well, what's wrong? Can't you make out the word?"
"I can make it out, but I can't say it."
"Come, now. Try. What is it?"
"C-c-cunt. Oh, Mr. Garnett! That's worse than 'prick'! "
"Read," he commanded brusquely.
"I-I can't read!"
"Well-all right. 'I was-just-a-a-a-cunt. If he had cut off my head and my hands and feet, it wouldn't matter. All he wanted was that one outlet for his fiery passions. I could do nothing but lay there on my back, with my legs around him and my hands helping him, until he reached his goals. When he came, it was as if his whole body was filled with nothing but semen. I was inundated.
"At that moment, I loved him with all my heart and soul. I came again and again. There were green and yellow lights going off in my head, and the whole room swam round me. It was like a forest fire, spinning out all over me from inside my-my cunt and from my burning buttocks. I clutched at him so hard that my nails pierced his skin, but I didn't care, and neither did he. It was glorious!
Then it was over, and he told me to pick up my clothes and his, for we were going upstairs to bed and make love all night like a couple of minks.'"
"Let's not bother with the upstairs part just now," Garnett interrupted. "I don't think it's very significant. Probably just a repetition of the scene on the couch. What's important here is the fact that she appears to be very much in love with this man-captivated by him, as it were-and unable to resist him. Obviously, he has her completely under his control." He looked into her eyes. "But, Clara, my child, you're trembling! What's the matter?"
"I just can't believe it," she said weakly. 'My sister-my own sister-that she would-" Garnett's shoulder was there for her to lean on, so she did. His arm went around her. One hand came to rest against the tip of her breast, and he could tell that the nipple was distended. "I don't know what you must think of me," she said after a moment.
"Why, what's there to think? As I said before, you're only reading Rita's words. It isn't as if you yourself had done the things she described." He paused. "Or have you done some of them?"
"Oh, no. No! NEVER!! ! Why, I've never even thought of them!" She looked up at him with dewy eyes. "You do believe me, don't you? I never even heard of things like that until I found what was in this drawer."
"But do you think about them now-now that you've found out?" His voice was persuasive. His gaze roamed to the closet where she had hidden her green silk panties, and her eyes followed his guiltily. "Do you?" he prodded.
"I-I can't help thinking about it sometimes." Her lips quivered. "I guess that's terrible, isn't it?"
Garnett drew her gently toward him, then urged her body into a supine position on the bed. He soothed her and caressed her and finally kissed her, and he was pleased to find that she offered no resistance as he thrust his tongue between her lips. She seemed a little shocked at first, but soon she touched the tip of his tongue with the tip of hers, and he sucked on it passionately.
Abruptly, however, she backed away from him, her cheeks flaming with shame. Not wanting to let her think about what she had done, he spoke rapidly. "You know," he said, patting her hip, "I have a plan that I think will lead to your sister. There's a slight chance, I suppose, that she'll return of her own accord, but, judging from what we read in her diary, it's safe to assume that she-likes it wherever she is. So we'll have to find her-or, more to the point, you'll have to find her."
"But how?"
"Well, I have a hunch. Do you remember the ring you gave me in my office-the ring with the scorpion design?"
"Yes."
"Where do you think she got it."
"From her lover."
"Precisely. From the man she described in the diary-presumably the same man who gave her these books."
"Yes!" she said enthusiastically. "It has to be the same man!"
"Okay. Now, suppose that he's holding Rita captive-whether physically or by moral force. Either way, he's going to remember sooner or later that he gave her his ring and his books. He'll want them back, especially if he has reason to believe they might fall into the wrong hands."
"Of course!"
"So let's give him an opportunity to get them back. Tomorrow we'll run an ad in the newspaper saying that the ring has been found. If he sees the ad, hell make some attempt to contact us-or, more precisely, to contact you. When he does, if you play your cards right, you'll be able to infiltrate his group of weekend revelers."
"Yes! And when I infiltrate them, I'll be able to find Rita and bring her back! Oh, Mr. Garnett, that's a marvelous idea!"
Garnett's face grew somber. "But, Clara," he said darkly, "before you agree to the plan, remember that it's dangerous. In order to infiltrate the group, you'll have to get into this scorpion fellow's good graces. In other words, you'll have to get him interested in you sexually."
"You mean I'd have to-"
'Yes, Clara, you'd have to make him want to make love to you."
"Oh, dear."
"Of course, that part won't be difficult. In fact, considering the type of man he appears to be, he's almost certain to want you. You're so fresh and young and vital. And so beautiful. Why a man would have to be made of stone to resist you. And this scorpion fellow is anything but inhibited. When he meets you, he'll want to take you somewhere, perhaps in a car. And hell want to kiss you. And hold you tightly, like this-"
"How awful!" she exclaimed, pressing her body against his in answer to his embrace.
"And he probably would squeeze your thighs, too. like this. Then he would kiss you again." He kissed her until her body went limp in his arms. His hands searched out her young breasts, and he pressed them hungrily. Then his fingers worked their way through the neck of her dress and squeezed the firm flesh of her soft, round breasts. "He might even want to do this." With his free hand he reached under her skirt and clutched the hot, damp altar of her womanhood.
"He wouldn't!" she spat, bolting upright. "Oh, that's terrible!"
"Yes, it is. But if finding Rita depended on it?"
Clara bit her lip. "Well," she said hesitatingly, "I do love my sister very much. I suppose I'd do anything to save her. But-" her whole body trembled "-I'd never let him do that!"
"I thought so." He sighed mightily. "And I guess that's the end of Rita."
"No! Wait! I would let him!" Her eyes took on a resolute expression. "If Rita's safety is at stake, I'd let him do anything he wanted."
"I don't think you could."
"I would!"
"I doubt it. I don't think you could even undress in front of a man without dying of shame."
"I could!"
"Then undress in front of me now."
"Oh, my heavens, no."
"See? I told you, you couldn't."
"I could. But why should I? Nothing depends on it now?"
"No, of course not. But, when something does depend on it, how will you be able to cope with the situation?" He shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid it was a bad idea, Clara. Maybe we'd better turn the matter over to the police after all. You're willing to help, but I don't think you could go through with it. You're too timid."
"I'm not timid. Or, at least I wouldn't be when the chips were down. I have plenty of nerve, you know. I really do."
"Do you? Enough nerve to pretend that I'm this scorpion fellow and that I've just told you that I want you to undress, right this minute. That's just the way it might happen, you know. Without any warning."
"I have plenty of nerve," she repeated. She was blushing, but she stood up. Then, trembling quite visibly, she positioned herself directly in front of Garnett. "Watch," she said. "I'll show you."
Garnett was trembling also, although not as noticeably. It excited him immensely to see the beautiful young girl so overwrought. "I don't believe you," he taunted. "I don't think you can do it."
"Watch."
She unbuttoned her dress at the front. It was belted, and, when she took the belt off, the garment fell open. Her skin showed pinkly through the space between the bottom of her brassiere and the top of her panties.
"There!" she said triumphantly. "I did it, didn't I?"
"Not quite."
"Do you really want me to undress."
"I do."
"But why?"
He shrugged, as if to say, "I told you, you didn't have enough nerve." Then he laughed out loud.
She closed her lips tightly and gathered folds of her dress in her fists, raising the hem over her bare thighs to her hips. Garnett saw the lacy panties which he had only imagined before on the terrace. Then she hoisted the dress over her head, tugging with crossed arms to pull the tight-fitting cloth past the gorgeous bulge of her marvelous breasts.
Her under things-what there was to them-fitted her like a dream. But the way she removed them was even more dream-like, and infinitely exciting.
At his nod she unfastened her brassiere. But she did it the hard way, slipping the straps off first and only then reaching behind her with one hand to undo the snap. When she reached, one luscious pink nipple peeped out. Then the snap fell open and the brassiere fell down her arms.
Garnett's mouth went dry with desire. Her breasts were beautiful beyond belief. The tips pointed upward, and the flesh was firm and high. They were the golden color of melons, and just as round, with a spen-did groove between them. He smiled wolfishly, mentally sinking his teeth into their creamy magnificence. "You have more nerve than I thought," he whistled under his breath.
She bent to take off one shoe, and her breasts swung forward like temple bells, slowly and resplendendy. Then she took off the other shoe by lifting her foot behind her and reaching down toward it. This movement raised the exquisite globes and made them jiggle provocatively atop her chest.
Garnett's palms went sweaty. He wanted to reach out and grab the splendid spheres, to bury his face between them and bite them and lick them and suck them until his jaws ached. But he restrained himself. He couldn't risk frightening his quarry-especially not when she was so close to his grasp.
With her shoes off, Clara looked even more helpless than ever. Timidly, but resolutely, she began to unroll her stockings. The gesture was doubly exciting, for it not only revealed the marvelous lines of her long legs but also forced her to handle her own naked thighs-and therefore made her increasingly aware of her nakedness before a man's eyes. She leaned against a chair while she took them off, then dropped them onto the seat of the chair and stood before Garnett.
Now she was naked except for her panties. For an instant she looked into Garnett's eyes, as if hoping for a final reprieve. Then, when he said nothing, she pulled the lacy things off with the three quick gestures. First she slid her palms along her sides under the elastic band at the waist. She pushed the clinging material down her thighs and calves. Then she kicked them off her ankles.
She did not try to hide the diamond patch of black hair at her crotch, although her hands fluttered a little, as if she wanted to but was determined not to. Her face was flushed, but mingled with the expression of shame was a glimmer of triumph. She seemed to be saying: "There! I told you I could do it!"
Garnett's lips parted in a small smile. "You've never undressed in front of a man before, have you?" he asked quietly.
Her voice was even softer than his. "Never."
He motioned to her, and she sat beside him on the bed, covering her face with her hands. After a moment she asked: "Do you still think I don't have enough nerve?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he guided her body into an horizontal position, then lay alongside her, resting on one elbow and looking down at her upturned face as he caressed her with his free hand. His fingers stroked her from head to knee, tickling her nipples, molding her breasts, caressing her belly, gliding over her thighs.
"Why do you let me do this to you?" he asked. "Because you told me to."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Yes. You wanted to see if I had enough nerve to meet the Scorpion, and I wanted to show you that I do, that's all." She bit her hp. "I'm awfully ashamed of myself," she added. "I wish you wouldn't look at me when you touch me, or that you wouldn't touch me when you look at me. I feel terribly dirty inside, and I feel even dirtier when you look at me and touch me at the same time."
"Aren't you letting me do this because you want me to?"
"No! Oh, heavens no! I don't want you to do it at all. I want to go away in a corner and cry. I hate it."
"Do you hate me, too?"
"No, I don't hate you. Men are like that, I guess. But I shouldn't let you do it-not for anything, not even for Rita. I didn't know you'd want to do this when you came here tonight, or I never would have asked you to come."
"Even though Rita's safety may depend on it?"
"Even though--well, no, I can't say that. I guess her safety is more important to me than anything else."
"But you don't like what I'm doing to you, even a little bit?"
"No, not at all. I despise it. I loathe it."
He lit two cigarettes and placed one of them between her lips. "Will you read some more of Rita's diary to me?"
"If you want me to." She started to get up.
"No, I don't mean while you're clothed. I mean naked, like you are. Will you he here naked and read to me?"
"If you say I have to, I will."
He gave her a book. It was not Rita's dairy. It was Memoirs of Madame Condeux. "Read some of this to me," he said, moving closer to her and feeling her with his body as well as with his hands.
"Why?"
"Because I want you to."
"But why?"
"For no reason, except that I desire it."
She trembled. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Does it matter?"
"Of course it matters."
"Then let's just say that I'm doing it because I feel like doing it."
"You're evil."
"Yes."
"And I thought you wanted to help me."
"Did you?"
"Of course." She stirred, as if she were about to get up from the bed. Garnett heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Don't you understand? I'm treating you the way the Scorpion will treat you. You can't be hesitant with him, you know. You can't refuse to do what he asks you, and you can't question him about why he wants you to do it. You must simply do it. Don't you understand that."
She exhaled deeply, seemingly relieved. "Yes, I suppose so. But for a minute I thought you were telling me things because you wanted me to do them, not because the Scorpion would want me to."
"Well, now you know otherwise," he lied. "So stop stalling. If we do locate this scorpion person, you'll probably be obliged to do things more shameful than you ever imagined. If you're going to crack under the strain, I want to know right now, before we make any definite plans. If you break down and he finds out what you're up to, you may be in grave danger."
Her eyes found his. They were fearful, but still resolute. "I told you I could do anything," she said. Her voice was very small, and her hands trembled so much that he wondered if she would be able to read from the page of the book.
"Now go ahead," he instructed her. 'Tell me about the affairs of Madame Condeux."
She steadied the volume on her lap and read in a quiet, quivering tone. '"I was only fourteen when Robert, the young master of the liduse, and Henri, his friend, taught me a lesson I will never forget. I was going about some errand on this particular afternoon when Robert called me from his chamber in the upstairs wing. "Marie, will you come here for a minute?" he said. I had no more entered the room when I felt myself seized from behind, and Robert's voice hissed: "Shut the door, Henri, and help me carry her to the bed." They deposited me on the bed, and, to my dismay and chagrin, began undressing me.
"'I had no defense. Even to call out would have been futile at that hour of the day, for there was no one to hear me, and the cook was in the kitchen away at the other wing of the mansion. In no time at all I was stripped quite stark. Then what a merry time they had with me! Fastening my wrists and ankles with their belts and ties, they bound me securely to the four posts of the bed. My arms and legs were spread wide. In this helpless position I was forced to endure their assaults.
" 'After spending some time teasing and tickling me and pinching my budding breasts, they both undressed. Robert came at me first, but not, as I had thought, to make love to me. Instead, he knelt across my body, bumping his bottom on my belly, and, after rubbing his prick-" she said the word without hesitation " '-across my breasts, on which it left a sticky wet trail, he summarily ordered me to open my mouth and let him invade me in that manner.
"'I, of course, had no intention of submitting to such a demand, and I withstood him as long as I could. But both he and Henri pinched and pummeled me and threatened me until I began to cry and was at last tearfully forced to submit. My cries seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the two savages. The young are so cruel.
"'Into my mouth his rigid member went. It felt enormous, and my jaws ached. The corners of my lips threatened to split His shadow fell over my eyes, and, through the gloom, I heard his voice demanding that I suck him. In truth, my choice was either to suck or to choke and suffocate, so I selected the former-a selection, I might add, which was strange and seemed horrible, but which, in truth, was not wholly unpleasant.
"'When I had sucked Robert's prick for what seemed like a long time, Henri wanted me to suck his, and this I was of course obliged to do. He mounted me in the same fashion as had Robert, and, with Robert remaining nearby, he put the swollen end of his terrible tool on my lips and rubbed it back and forth until I opened my mouth. Robert, meanwhile, rubbed his weapon against my tender slit.
"'I began to get very excited, and everything became vague. All I kept wondering was whether Robert was annoyed by facing Henri's back as they both mounted my body facing the same way. Having rubbed his shaft around and around my grotto until I was all wet, partly from his drool and partly from my own juices, he thrust it inside. My jaw ached and my legs hurt, and the straps and ties cut my wrists and ankles, but I was introduced willy-nilly to one of the many fashions in which a willing (or even unwilling, as I certainly was) young girl may conduct the entertainment of two or more men together.
" 'The boys soon wanted to change places, so Robert took Henri's place and Henri began to stroke me in the natural place. My poor thighs hurt fiercely and my breasts stung so with the constant handling and abuse to which they had been subjected that I scarcely cared what they did to me as long as the business was quickly gotten through. The pleasure I had begun to feel was lost in my discomfiture and pain, and even when I felt Henri begin to shoot inside me and flood me with his spend, I did not any longer feel the least voluptuousness.
" 'My only thought was to do everything I was told to do, striving only to keep my bonds from cutting too deeply into my flesh
Clara closed the book and put it aside. While she had been reading, Garnett had been touching her more and more familiarly, pressing his fingers against whatever sexual part was mentioned in the reading and rubbing his penis against her thigh through his trousers whenever that organ was mentioned. Her legs had been induced to spread early in the narrative, and his fingers now rubbed between the lightly-haired thighs, plucking at the pink lips of her womanhood and pinching lightly at her clitoris. She was in an agony of humiliation, the very picture of utter and devastated shame. She looked very young and crushed, and somewhat bewildered to find herself in such circumstances.
"Let me feel your bottom now, Clara," Garnett said softly. "It looks so pretty and white, and so soft."
"You are feeling it," she murmured, but she obediently lay on her side as he pushed her in that direction and offered him her pert rump from the back. He fondled the plump buttocks, luxuriating in their young, firm softness. He tickled her along the cleft and put the tip of his finger into her. She covered her face with both her hands, and her shoulders shook when he took his fingers from that orifice and brought it to the one in front.
"You're not really going to do anything to me, are you?" Her voice was shot with fright. She turned her eyes up to him and added, almost as an afterthought: "Please?"
But Garnett had had enough of the game. He had torn down her defenses, and he knew that he could take her whenever he wanted her. So now there was really no point in taking her. Once he had taken her, she would never be ashamed again. And, nothing pleased him as much as her shame.
What a pity, he mused, that she wasn't a Catholic. If she had been, she could screw like a snake in a barrel of snot and still be ashamed every time. But it was pointless to contemplate hypothetical situations. She wasn't a Catholic, and, whatever she was, she would have to do. Besides, there were damned few religious Catholic girls who were as beautiful and as fresh-looking as she was.
"No, my dear," he promised, "I'm not going to do anything more to you. I only wanted to see if you really could make the sort of sacrifice which this scorpion fellow-if there is in fact such a person-may demand before you can learn anything about Rita. I see that you can. But it pains me to think of you as a-" He let the sentence trail off.
"I am one now, aren't I?" she said quietly. "I let you do these terrible things to me, and now I am one."
He didn't answer.
"But it doesn't matter," she added quickly. "I'm doing this to help Rita, and that's all that counts."
"Right," said Garnett, getting up from the bed. "And on that note of steel-willed determination let's bring tonight's little session to a close." He reached into his jacket pocket. "Here's the ring you gave me this afternoon. When I leave here I'll place a want ad in the newspapers describing the ring and saying that it was found in the street. We may get an answer immediately, or we may never get an answer. But, either way, we'll have taken a step toward our goal."
Clara sat on the edge of the bed. "May I put on my clothes now?"
"Of course, I'm ready to leave, and you won't want to walk me to the door naked, will you?"
She laughed in spite of herself. "No, I wouldn't want that."
"So, chin up. As I said before, try not to worry about your sister. I'm sure that she's alright." He watched her dress. "If you have any reason to talk, phone my office. I'll tell Jackson to expect your call, and he'll put you through to me without any delay. But don't come to the office. Someone may be following you-especially after the ad appears in the papers-and it would be dangerous to tip our hand."
She snapped her bra shut and pulled her dress over her head. Then she led him through the living room to the door. He kissed her on both eyes, then on the lips.
"Now you can go off to that corner of yours and cry," he said, smiling. "I'll see you soon." '