Chapter 14
In the evening Burt appeared behind the bar.
His gaze met Janey's. His eyes slitted, and his lips twisted in a grin.
Janey shivered.
Barbara did not look toward him. But she was flushed, and Janey thought her more hurt by him then angry. Most likely she would renew their affair if he approached her in the right way.
Gazing at the Apron Girl's bare behind, Janey sighed with envy. If only she could become an Apron Girl, with the right to refuse distasteful clients, to take days or nights off, go to the beach or to town... But how?
No Ribbon Girl knew how aprons were chosen, though apparently all aprons had served their apprenticeships in ribbons. Barbara had mentioned an incident that occurred when she wore them.
"Is he looking at me?" Barbara whispered to her.
Burt was serving drinks, half hidden by people at the bar.
"He's busy."
"I had a man last night -- didn't satisfy me at all. But Burt is such a shit, he's always been one. Then trying to cheat me!"
At seven o'clock clients entered with raincoats dripping.
It was raining outside.
Janey's nerves were tingling.
Worse after Barbara told her to dress in black leather, and go to the horse room.
Fully costumed, high boots and black belt and mask with hood, carrying a black strap whip, Janey entered and found, leaning against the horse, Burt dressed in the same fashion, not wearing an apron, his long cock dangling in full view.
She saw his eyes glittering, full of hatred, laughing at her.
"Oh yes, that's the bitch," the woman said.
She was small and rather skinny, Janey thought, her hair straw-colored from too much bleach. She stood by the bed. The man beside her looked beefy. Both wore domino masks. The woman went on, "The hooded mask she's wearing doesn't fool me. I know those big tits and how she walks chin high so they flounce around, those fat tits!"
The beefy man said, "But Martha, I've only looked at her. Everybody looks at her."
"Don't tell me, she's like all the secretaries you hire, fat-titted so you can suck them."
Bewildered, Janey glanced at Burt, who stood with hands on hips, whip dangling from his hand, grinning at her.
The beefy man said, "Martha, you've had too much to drink."
"Just enough, Howard. Just enough. I'll show you. I've hired myself a prick that's twice as long as yours. Look at it hanging down between his boots. Well, Howard, I'm going to have that prick inside me, and you're going to watch, and I'll get even for all the times you've fucked your secretaries!"
The woman lost her balance, stabbed out with a foot.
Drunk, Janey thought.
"I feel humiliated," the man said.
Martha smiled. "How would you like to be chained to that horse? I can do it. I have my own money and I'll hire that, Oriental to tie you up in knots and then I'll take the whip..."
He sighed. "Martha, Martha..."
"Mr. Burt says I can do what I want. I've paid. And there will be a nice tip for Mr. Burt. Yes, that big-titted twat there with all that bushy pubic hair, I'm going to whip her like I wanted to beat all the secretaries you've fucked!"
With that, Burt said, "Then take the whip."
He tossed it to the woman. Stunned, Janey saw it fly past her face.
Then Burt was upon her. He seized her wrists, his grip as hard as steel handcuffs. He yanked her to the horse and dragged her over it.
Her booted toes barely touched the floor. Burt's weight was on her wrists.
The woman screeched, "I'll cut your fat ass to shreds, girl!"
Janey heard the whip whistle, but the woman lost her balance, staggering. The snapper struck the thigh of her boot.
She felt the bum of it through the leather.
"Drunken bitch!" the woman's husband snarled. "I hope you trip over it and break your leg."
The woman braced herself, swung, and as the whip lashed into her buttocks Janey felt the sear, a strip of fire burning the cheeks.
"Wait," Burt said. "Mrs. Smith, I have to get a hard-on. I'll have her suck my cock while you whip her. Then I'll be all ready to fuck you."
"Yes, yes!" the woman shrilled. "Make the cunt suck it!"
Her husband said, "I could throw up."
But he made no move to stop them, and Janey knew they all lied, that maybe "Mr. Smith" was getting kicks from seeing her whipped.
Burt stepped to her, pushing the long flab of his cock into her face.
Janey had clenched her fists as she fought to endure the pain of the burning stripe across her ass. And now she realized that in her right hand she held the handle of her whip. She had a weapon.
Rage, built up over these days, grew to a raging fire in her. She would not do this! Burt could get away with it, yes, because sometimes clients paid to beat Ribbon Girls. But the drunken Mrs. Smith and her indifferent husband were too much, and the evil Burt... Burt said, "Wait, Mrs. Smith, she hasn't got my prick in her mouth yet."
He raised on tiptoes, lifting the head of his prick to Janey's lips.
She lipped it, getting it into her mouth.
And then she bit it.
Burt's scream of pain shattered her ears. He clutched his injured cock.
Janey, screeching as loudly as he in her anger, flung from the horse, raised her whip, up to shoulder height, then flung it at his face, striking with all the strength in her arm.
It cut an angle from his ear to nose to jaw, left a crimson stripe in the middle of which blood spurted from both nostrils.
Janey whirled on the woman, who backed away from her, wide-eyed with fear, lost her balance and fell heavily on her backside.
As Janey rushed past her, she chopped the whip down and cut a streak across the woman's skinny thigh.
Without stopping, she tore open the door and ran out, yanking it shut behind her. In the hall she ripped off her mask and belt, zipped down the boots, kicked out of them in the costume closet. She snatched up her ribbon skirt and rushed out putting it on over her head.
Back in the club, she knew she must waste no time, yet she had to appear normal.
She forced herself to stroll nonchalantly past Barbara, whose back was turned, down the aisle between tables.
The place was full, and more people were coming, shaking rain water from their coats and closing umbrellas.
Janey helped a woman take off her raincoat and a broad-brimmed plastic hat. She carried them to the cloakroom. Then with frantic haste she put on the coat -- too tight in the shoulders -- and the hat. Seeing a pair of woman's boots standing under the rack, she put them on. Too big, but better than barefoot in the rain.
Then she walked slowly, bending the hat brim down over her face, to the front door. More clients were arriving. She ducked in among them and suddenly she was outside.
A howling wind drove rain into her face.
Janey started running.
She was in the parking lot dodging through a bewildering array of cars, deafened by the drumming of rain on their roofs.
She trampled into a puddle, splashing icy water up under her raincoat to her thighs, and she realized that under the thin coat she wore only her ribbon skid. But she was free!
To the left, at the end of the parking lot, she saw the revolving turret of a police car, glaring red through the rain.
She ran, panic-stricken.