Chapter 12
They arrived in Dimon early in the morning, Brenda was sleeping in the trailer, Luther drove, and Dex doze beside him. They had shared the money on the way during a stop for gas. Parking the pick-up on the street near the gas station, Luther had made the deductions foi expenses as Dex watched, and divided the profits three ways. Then he had gone to the trailer, and Dex had seen him put the money, his and Brenda's, into a small roan leather case. The case had remained in the trailer.
That case had been the subject of Dex's thoughts for many miles. Presumably there was more money in it. If Luther was saving for a farm in West Virginia there might be a great deal of money in it.
There was no way for him to get Brenda to run off and leave Luther. He could not have her and the money too, Dex knew. He could go on, being part of the show-for how long? He could fuck Brenda, during the shows, and sometimes between if the opportunity presented itself, but she would not be his. She would always go back to Luther.
There were other women. The girl, Mary, had been a crazy, wild lay in the back of the car. There were lots of Marys.
He forced his thoughts to the money. If he stole it, where would he go? He could buy a railroad ticket. He could hole up till the search for him died down. He could buy a car and hit the back roads till he was hundreds of miles away.
Buying a car appealed to him. It made him independent. Now he was dependent on Luther and the goddam pick-up truck.
"Shitty little burg," Luther said, breaking in on his thoughts.
Dex stretched and dilated his eyes, yawning. He peered at the collection of shacks and cheap frame buildings. Nothing stirred in the town. It was too early. They drove down the main street, two blocks long, and pulled off the road.
"There's a guy named Lopsey we gotta see," Luther said. "He runs the hotel." Looking at his watch, he hunched his shoulders. "Six a.m." He opened the door and got out. Dex heard him walking back to the trailer. The trailer door opened and shut.
Dex pulled his coat closer about him. It was cold. He closed his eyes again; what could they make from this wide-place-in-the-road?
Luther and Brenda came from the trailer an hour and a half later. Brenda looked refreshed and beautiful. Her step was lithe and she looked as animal-like and tawny as ever. Dex sighed to himself. Eating pussy seemed to agree with her.
He managed to stroke her fanny lightly as they walked toward the cafe and she smiled at him. The cafe was part of the hotel, and as they ordered, Luther went in to look for Lopsey.
"You been here before?" Dex asked. She shook her head. "No. Another blind date. I tried to tell him this burg isn't worth it, but he wants to make expenses along the way-" She shrugged.
"How was Shirley?"
She giggled. "Jealous, darling?"
"Maybe." They sat in a booth, in plain sight of the street. The cafe was steamy and smelled strongly of food and coffee.
"That was a one-nite-stand, baby. She's a long way back." Brenda leaned over the table toward him, smiling. "That's not my dish."
"Wanna fuck?"
"Yes." She giggled, then became more sedate as Luther came into the cafe from the hotel door. He slid into the booth beside her.
"Lopsey says maybe, maybe not."
"What's that mean?"
Luther made a wry face. "He don't know if he can get enough guys together for tonight. He says there's a better chance during the day. I told him to get it put together."
"Where would we do it?" Brenda asked. "Right in the hotel, I guess. In one of the rooms."
They finished breakfast then sat around the lobby reading newspapers and listening to the radio. A war in Europe seemed close. The man with the moustache, Hitler, was threatening as usual. In the hotel, the hangers-on were almost evenly divided about him; some thought he was serious others thought he was bluffing. Dex didn't think about it at all.
After his belly had been fed, he sat in the lobby near Brenda, eyeing her legs. His cock stirred and he wanted to screw her. He knew that she knew it. That only intensified the feeling.
He rose and strolled out, moving idly but careful that Luther did not follow. He walked around to the back where they had parked the pick-up and trailer. The trailer was locked. He examined the lock; it could be broken with a small crowbar, he thought.
He went back to the street. This wasn't the town for it. He should wait till they hit a bigger pace. In Dimon there were only two roads out of town. If Luther got wise too soon, he could have the cops phone ahead each way and they'd have him. Best wait.
Mr. Lopsey came from the hotel, conferring with Luther. Lopsey was a smallish, wiry man; he looked like a tailor or a dry-goods clerk. Luther went with him into the hotel and Brenda came out to the street.
"My hard's botherin' me," Dex said in a low voice as she joined him. She looked at his fly and giggled lightly.
"Nothin's sticking out."
"It's twitching for you," he said. "Wanna go find a quiet place?"
"We'd better not leave."
"It won't hurt to walk a little bit. What's that over there?" Dex pointed to a slight wall partly covered by vines and weeds. At a distance of a block the wall seemed a small thing, but it ran for as far as they could see in either direction.
Brenda looked through the hotel window, but Luther was nowhere in sight. "I guess it won't hurt to walk."
They crossed the street and strolled toward the wall, away from the main part of town. It was further than it looked.
"How long's it gonna be till Luther gets his farm?"
"A long time. He ain't got but half the money."
That was bad news. He might not have enough saved. There was no way to tell if the robbery would be worth it. Dex gazed around. There were few houses this side of the highway. It was the ownslope; most of the homes were on the hill slope beyond the town. A few orchards stretched by them, and as they got closer, Dex could see that the wall was part of a cement bank for a viaduct.
"It's a river," Brenda said.
"Yeh." They went to the edge and leaned on the weedy wall. He glanced back. Luther was not hurrying to them. He sat on the wall and swung his feet around to face the river. "Sitdown."
When she seated herself, he took her hand and put it on his cock. She began to rub it immediately.
"Jeez, it is hard, baby."
"I told you." He unzipped his pants and she reached in to pull it out naked and arrogant. He heard her suck in her breath at the feel of it.
"You still love Luther?"
"Baby-what a thing! Of course, I told you a dozen times." She petted the erect thing, squeezing and handling it warmly.
Dex looked at her. "He can't get a hard on, can he?"
Brenda sighed. She was silent, holding the cock tightly. "WeU-can he?"
She sighed again and slowly shook her head. "But that hasn't got anything to do with how I feel."
"If he could he wouldn't need me." She nodded again.
"But you need me, honey, don't you?" She squeezed tighter and masturbated it hotly for a moment. "Yeah, I need you. You know that." She looked at him and leaned toward him. "Can't we keep it this way?"
"Luther don't like me t'fuck you, you know that. He hires me to do it, but he don't like it, and he won't let me screw you between shows-"
"He's sensitive. Anyway, we manage, huh?" She glanced around. "You want me now?"
"Hell yes, can't you feel it?"
She giggled. "I could lay on the grass-" She swung around. "No one could see us."
He let her lie down, smiling up at him. He knelt, the big long cock jutting out like an arm, and ran his hand up her thigh under her dress. Then he straddled her quickly, sat on her chest and dandled the prick at her chin.
"Ohhh-" She took it between her lips. He leaned forward and held her head up to it,! moving his loins slowly, in and out between her red lips.
"Jesus, baby," she said, "don't come this way, he'll smell it on my breath-"
"OK." He cuddled her head, feeling her mouth so warm and loving. What a woman she was! He thought again about the girl, Rita. Why couldn't he bury Luther somewhere? If Brenda never found out what had happened, she'd have to come with him, wouldn't she? She'd want to. He watched her mouthe it, his breath coming faster. She always excited him. No other girl had ever excited him as Brenda did. It was all right to talk about other girls, but when it came down to it, there was only Brenda for him.
He wanted to fuck her.
"Leggo," he said. He moved back, glancing around as he slid between her thighs. She grasped the spear and pulled it, raising her legs.
"Oh, come to me-"
He let her nestle it in, humping up to meet it, and pushed slowly, feeling the delicious warmth. She was right, no one could see them here. Trees and brush grew in profusion between them and the distant buildings. He thrust it deep into her as she gasped.
Then she settled back, a feline, satisfied look on her lovely face. Her body undulated as he pronged her and she smiled up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. He fed it to her steadily, feeling the excitement she always drew from him. It was idyllic, screwing her out in the open this way-as though they were on a picnic. He leaned on his hands, looking down.
"Unfasten your dress," he said.
She smiled and brought her hands up languidly. With deft fingers she opened the neckline and pulled the blouse open to her navel. Her bra was loose; she merely took the bottom of it in her fingers and raised it over her breasts.
"Like that?"
"Yeh." He grinned down at them. The two lovely titties rolled slightly, nipples swaying as he pumped her deep and smoothly. The sight made him even harder. She was beautiful. She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt.
"I want you close to me," She said.
He lowered himself on her, scooping her up, kissing her, fucking her hard. She cooed and writhed in his arms. It was like they were lovers, he thought. like she really loved him. She kissed passionately-was it all sex?
"Christ, I sure love you," he said.
"Yeah, me too," she whispered.
"I thought you loved Luther."
"Well, I do-but that's different."
He grunted. "How can you love a guy who can't give you no cock?"
"That's why it's different. I told you before, there's more than just fucking."
"You like it though-"
She giggled. "I love it, baby. I don' think I could live without getting my nooky. But that's just part of living. I can't explain it, but-"
"But you want Luther too."
She shrugged under him and squeezed his body with arms and legs. "Le's not talk about it. Make me come-I wanna come-"
He rammed her hard. He jabbed and jolted her and she writhed delightedly, her laugh floated out-then turned to gasps. She began to buck. She moaned and he knew she was beginning. The thought seared his balls and the TNT went off inside them. He groaned, twisting and lunging, the goo spurted and Brenda squealed aloud.
They fucked hotly, madly for long moments, losing tempo, becoming spasmodic, jerking in the anguish of it. Her legs never ceased to squeeze him-even in the passion and ferment of her shuddering. She was beautiful. She was all he wanted.
"I'm so fuckin' crazy about you-" he mutered and she kissed him with coral lips, swollen with lust.
They lay in the grass, the pulsating cock still deep in her, regaining breath and sanity. Her satin body could inflame him again. He smiled and moved sinuously; he'd fuck her again in a minute-
"I hear a car," she said.
Dex rolled off and sat up, staring down the road. He could hear it-and see it. "Ged up," he hissed. The car had come from the main highway and had turned down the dirt road toward them. Luther?
He zipped up quickly; Brenda was squirming into her clothes again, but she wouldn't make it, he could see. The car was approaching. He rose and walked toward the road. Shit. Some stupid hick-then he saw the Marshal's insignia painted on the side of the car. A cop!
"Cops," he said in a low voice to Brenda.
The Marshal braked the car and turned in a half circle. He opened the door and stared at the girl.
"What you two doin', screwing?"
Dex frowned. The cop was a slim, unshaven guy, looked to be in his thirties, not well dressed. But he had a shiny badge pinned to his shirt.
"I ast you a question," he said. "Well," Dex, glanced at her. Brenda was dressed now. "We was just sitting out here."
"Where you come from, you two?"
"We're passin' through, that's all." The car looked beat up, Dex thought. He saw the Marshal's name painted on the side: T. Rankin. He tried to smile. "We're not meaning any harm, Mr. Rankin."
"Marshal Rankin." Rankin's voice had a snap to it.
"Yes sir, Marshal Rankin."
"That your wife."
"No sir."
Brenda rose, brushing herself off. She came over to them, smiling at the cop. "We breakin' a law, mister?"
"You got a whore license, girl?"
"I ain't a whore," Brenda said, annoyed.
"You're fuckin' this guy on the grass there-" Rankin snarled at them. He seemed in bad humor. "I seen you."
"Jesus," She said, "What we do is our business-"
"Get in the goddam car," Rankin ordered. He opened the back door.
"We didn't do nothing," Dex said. "Why-" Rankin yelled sharply. "Get in the fuckin' car!"
Dex took her arm. He followed her into the back seat. The car smelled of tabacco and sweat. Rankin slid behind the wheel, slammed the door and spun the wheels. They rocked back to the highway at near-dangerous speed. Dex shrugged at Brenda. What could they do?
The Marshal's office was on a side-street, two dusty rooms that led into the jail. An equally unshaven, plump man looked up from a tattered magazine and grinned on seeing Brenda. "Hi, Rank, watchoo got?"
"Two folks out fornicatin' in the weeds by the viaduct."
"You married?" the plump man asked. "No," Dex said. The sign on the plump one's desk read: David Stofka, Dep.
"Oh, shame," Stofka shook his head in mock disgust.
"Look," Brenda said, "Can't we pay a fine and get out of here?"
"Judge's outa town," Rankin jerked his head toward the back. "I got to lock you up till he gits back."
"When'll that be?"
"Prolly t'morra," Stofka said, looking Brenda up and down. "Tomorra 'er Sunday."
"Go on," Rankin said. He pushed Dex.
There were two smallish cells, side by side, facing the single door. A man rose from a bench, staring at them. He grinned at sight of Brenda and rubbed his fly vigorously.
"That's Arne," Rankin said. "He harmless." He unlocked both cells. "All right, git in. You, woman in there."
"Will you notify my husband at the hotel?" Brenda asked. His name is Luther-"
"You tell Dave later," Rankin snarled. He pushed Dex inside with Arne and locked the door. He slammed the door on Brenda and clicked the lock, ignoring their pleas. Brenda was almost in tears.
Dex heard Stofka's voice before the door closed: "Thass a fine lookin' cunt-"
He sighed. Small town jail. Shit.
He looked around, startled. Arne was hissing and panting. The man was as tall as he, but skinny and had wide, staring eyes. He was smeared up against the bars dividing the two cells, gawking at Brenda, his cock hard and naked, poking through the bars at her.
"For crissake!" Brenda said, "Lookit that!"
"Le's do it," Arne said hoarsely. "Le's do it-" His loins heaved back and forth suggestively.
"Siddown!" yelled Dex, annoyed. Arne looked at him, like a dog, a whipped dog. "Please, mister--. "
"Sit down, dammit."
Arne backed from the bars and sat on the bench. He hunched over, staring at Brenda, and began to masturbate. Dex sighed and shrugged. It looked like they were in with the town idiot. He went close to the bars and Brenda joined him.
"Can they do this?"
"They're doin' it," he said. Brenda sighed and put her head close to his, only the steel bar between them. "I'm sorry-" he whispered.
She smiled slightly. "It's not your fault."
"I wanted a piece."
"So did I." She touched his cheek. "We'll just have to wait. Luther'll get us out."
"If he finds out where we are." He lit a cigarette and they passed it back and forth. Best to conserve them. He glanced toward the other. Arne was still playing with himself, grinning at her legs.
The afternoon passed slowly. Neither Rankin or Stofka came in; the light slowly diminished. Arne continued to finger himself. Dex began to get used to the sight of it. He and Brenda ceased to talk about Luther. They knew Luther would be half out of his mind about them by now. Would he think to come to the Marshal's office? Luther avoided police whenever he could. Would it occur to him that they might be in jail?
"When do they feed you?" He asked Arne.
Arne put his tongue out and waggled it. "Wan' me to eat you?" He grinned eagerly.
"This guy never thinks about nothing but cock," Dex said. Brenda giggled, watching the man.
"He'd pepup the show," Dex said. He sat on the opposite end of the bench. Arne looked to be twenty-five or so, hairy, needing a shave. His eyes were blank as his expression. His fingers moved constantly on the naked weenie and he drooled slightly from one corner of his mouth. Arne knew they were talking about him and he licked up the spittle and stared at Brenda, grinning.
"He-likes you," Dex said.
Arne jumped up and shoved the cock through the bars again. He made eager noises in his throat.
"He sure does," Brenda said, leaning away from it. "It might go off-"
"Dammit, siddown!" Dex said. Arne slumped and went back to the bench.
The door opened and Stofka came in, squinting his eyes in the gloom. He turned on a single small bulb near the door. "Can't waste money on pris'ners-"
"Did you find Luther--? "
"Sure, we'll find 'im." The plump man unlocked her cell and went inside, grinning. "You sure he's your husband? Not this guy?" He motioned toward Dex.
"Yes, he is-" Brenda moved to the back of the cell and Stofka followed. "I come t'ast you what you want for supper-huh?" He went close to her, grinning.
The plump man ruffled Arne's hair.
"Got t'keep this'n in jail here for his own good," he said referring to Arne. "He liable t'hurt hisself outside."
"Now maybe he'll let us go," she said under her breath. Brenda pursed her lips at the bars and he kissed her. "I'm all right," she said.
Stofka pulled away from the whining Arne. He went out quickly, slamming the door.
"He's just a shit," Dex said.
"I know it."
He sighed. "Don't count on it."
Stofka came back with a large tray and food. The food was soup and bread, a small bit of beef for each of them and a cup of brown stuff he said was coffee. He put it on the floor. "He'p yourselfs." He went out.
Arne ate everything they gave him, ravenously.
They picked at the rest; Dex was hungry, but the ration didn't taste or smell particularly good. It was hard to see, too, the light was yellow and dim. Most of the cells were pools of shadow. The two smallish windows were so grimy the light from outside could hardly penetrate.
When they finished, they sat together, the bars between them, heads close. Arne slunk to the far side of the cell in the semi dark; it was impossible to see what he was doing. Dex could hear a slight rustle of cloth.
They held hands, as two lost souls in a desert, then Brenda's hand crept across his thighs and pressed his goad. She sighed, fondling it. He unzipped and let her have it, naked. They sat for a long time, saying nothing. Luther must have looked everywhere for them. The thought hung between them, shared.
Dex closed his eyes. At least Luther wouldn't go on and leave them. Not with Brenda missing. He might well leave him, Dex, behind, but not Brenda. He was soothed by her hands, and he ozed. After a bit her hands were still and he opened his eyes, realizing that she was asleep. She must be tired from the ordeal of the day.
He moved to put his back to the bars, listening to the steady sigh of her breathing. His cock was terribly hard, pulsating-it always was when she touched it. He stroked it, closing his eyes again-and then Arne was in front of him. The man startled him in the gloom. Then he saw that Arne was looking at the dong. He opened his knees and took his hand away. Arne crawled close and began licking it.
That was pleasant. He sat in the dark and let the moronic boy suck it feverishly. Why not have the fun of it? Arne had no technique, but he was avid. It was very pleasant. He nearly fell asleep.
The door opened and shut and he jerked awake, and pushed Arne off. Arne whimpered; Dex quickly zipped up listening to them barring the door. He rose. Both Rankin and Stofka had entered, and as they came close to the cells, he could smell the whisky. Brenda woke and reached through the bars for his hand.
"-real lushy," Stofka was saying, "soft as a baby's ass, ain't you, honey?" He leered through the bars as Rankin unlocked the cell door.
"Your cell door's open," Dex whispered.
She looked at it, her eyes wide.
"Stofka, the fat one, he's got the other key," he said. "You think you can get it?"
She held to him tighter. "I dunno-"
"They're both drunker'n hell."
"If they catch me," she bit her lip, "I'm gonna get it!"
"Well, we gotta take that chance. Anyway, if we don't beat this joint they'll keep us here like they done Arne.
"Yeah, I guess so." She looked toward the front.
"Tell you what. Get something and give 'em a crack!"
She licked her lips. "Yeah."
"An'get the keys."
"All right." She took a breath and combed her hair from her eyes with her fingers. "Go on, honey."
She let her breath out and moved out of the cell slowly. Dex watched her go through the door into the office. It was very quiet in there. Were they both out cold? Maybe they were dozing, stupefied with the liquor, and the sex they'd just had.
Dex found himself clenching his fists, biting his lower lip-waiting. There were slight sounds, as though she were moving about. The office was dark. A chair clattered to the floor and Brenda's voice gasped. One of the men growled, slurring and smacking his lips.
He winced suddenly, hearing a loud crack. He shook the bars. One of the men moaned-and Brenda came running back to him. "I hit 'im-I hit 'im-"
She was frightened to death.
"Didja get the keys?"'
She shook her head, almost hysterical. "I hit 'im awful hard, awful-I didn't think it was so hard-"
"S'all, right, honey, settle down-" He petted her, fondled her. She was trembling and shaking, "-hit 'im with a bar, iron or some thin'. "
"Which one."
"I dunno-"
"Shhhh." He held her tightly. One of them was growling to himself, it sounded like Stofka, and moving about. The man came to the door. It was Stofka. So she had hit Rankin ... well, that's the one he would have hit if he'd had a choice. There was no other sound than what Stofka was making. Maybe she'd killed him.
The fat man swayed, holding onto the door. He grinned widely, seeing her. "Oh-preddy li'l girl-" he sang, "godda preddy li'l girl-" He lurched toward her.
Brenda clung to Dex.
"Stay here," he hissed at her. "If I c'n reach im-
Stofka nearly fell on her. His breath was like a blast of hell, and he had whisky spilled on him. He grabbed her hips, chuckling. "Godda preddy liddle gorl-witta preddy liddle puzzy-" He tore at her skirts.
Dex could not reach him. Brenda was whimpering. The man had her skirts up; she clung to the bars, staring at him, and Dex reached vainly over her back. Stofka was just barely out of his swing.
He heard Brenda gasp. Stofka gurgled, fucking at her bare rump, grinning stupidly. Dex knew he had his whang in her again. She was bending over too far.
"Stan' up straight," he whispered hoarsely.
Brenda yanked herself forward. Stofka yowled, rearing back as his cock came out waggling. He charged at her-and Dex reached both hands through the bars and grabbed his shirt. He hauled in with all his strength and Stofka's head hit the bars with a sound like a pumpkin splitting. Blood spurted. The breath came out of him and he fell hard. He made no other sound.
The cells were silent for a long moment.
Dex slowly let his breath out. He could hear the occasional engine of a car somewhere outside, then he could hear his own breathing and Brenda's. He shook her shoulder. "Get the keys-"
She was shuddering and he shook her again. "Come on, we gotta get outa here."
"Where are they?"
"Look in his right hand pocket."
She went around him gingerly. Stofka lay on his back, staring with sightless eyes at the ceiling. His face was covered with dark blood, there was blood on his clothes and puddled under him.
"God!, he's dead-I know he's dead-"
"Get the fuckin'keys!"
She made herself reach into his pocket. She shook her head, no keys.
"Look on 'is belt."
She fumbled in the half light; he heard the jingle of metal, and she looked up with a white face. She rose with a handful of keys on a ring and flew to him with them.
"Shit! We'll hafta try each one-"
It took more than ten minutes to find the key. The cell door opened and Dex scurried out. Stofka was dead as a mackeral. But Arne was alive, writhing slightly and groaning.
Dex had an idea. He pulled Brenda into the front office and they picked their way to the front door. "Stay here-"
He went back and lit a match. Rankin was on the floor, face down, his hair a sticky, red mess. Brenda had hit him with a file. Dex couldn't tell if the man was breathing or not. The file was on the floor. He picked it up and ran to Arne's cell and laid it by the moron's hand. Maybe they'd think Arne had hit both men. It was a chance worth taking.
He clicked back the night lock on the front door and they went out into the night.