Chapter 10
Dan hurried through the dark streets of Portland. He bent forward against the biting wind that sliced through him like a razor and caught up with the dark curvaceous girl who stood under a dim cafe sign. She had given him the eye a block back, as he came out of the theater. Whores knew where the action was likely to be, and Dan had already testified before the City Council about the shameless Portuguese women who had staked out the skin flick area as their happy hunting grounds. Now he was running like a dog after just such a woman, a dog sniffing after a bitch in a dirty alley. He didn't care, he wanted her. He had seen the coppery flatness of her dyed red hair under the marquee lights and he had to have her.
She turned and smiled at him with startlingly long white teeth. Her eyes were as black as cherries and her skin a golden tawny shade.
"You looking for a little friend?" she said archly. "You been following me."
For a moment he almost took her literally. Though he had often been briefed by the police on the habits and behavior of whores, and had cross-examined more than one, he had never actually met a whore in his life. For a moment he forgot what he well knew: that they psyched potential customers out to see if they were plainclothes men.
"No, I was looking for you," he said. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely get the words out. "Could I . . . buy you a drink?"
She shrugged.
"What kinda whiskey you like? Straight or blended?"
He knew what she meant by that. Confidence began to return to him.
"Both ways. How much does whiskey cost around here?"
She laughed. "A lot. Twenty-five dollars, plus seven for the cover charge."
He took out his wallet and handed her the money, and added a five dollar tip.
"Come on," she said, taking his arm. "I know a nice place we can drink."
She took him on a roundabout walk through the bus station area to a narrow street that looked more like a winding alley. The sea air and fog whirled about them. He smelled the cheap powerful scent of her perfume. It was like animal musk.
They went into a narrow frame building that had a hotel sign over the door. There was no name, just the word hotel. There was no lobby, just a vestibule containing a glassed-in cubicle where a man sat reading a gun magazine. He looked up without interest and nodded to the girl without bothering to glance at Dan.
The ratty stairs and corridor upstairs smelled dry and musty. The girl opened one of the doors with a key from her purse and flicked on a light whose location she found without looking or fumbling.
She locked the door behind them and stuck her hand between the flaps of Dan's overcoat, and grabbed his swollen groin. She pinched his erect cock and laughed.
"Man, you got a bone on tonight. It's gonna take more than one round to get you cooled off."
"I'll pay you, don't worry," he panted. "Get your clothes off and let's go."
She tossed her coat in a chair and kicked out of the brief mini. She stood in long purple pantyhose, her legs plump and shapely. When she took off the garish saffron blouse her big brown boobs swayed braless. Their nipples were dark brown and swollen-looking, the biggest ones he'd ever seen in or out of the movies. She saw his eyes on them and smiled knowingly. Her hands came up and cupped the big orbs of tawny flesh and lifted their heaviness.
"You a tit man? I got plenty to make you happy." Her eyes narrowed appraisingly. "I might even give you a tit fuck."
He threw his clothes aside and walked to her. His stick was up and she grabbed it and pushed the foreskin back with an adroit roll of her fingers.
Dan's hips jerked and his engorged, horny cock throbbed with trapped blood.
She released him with another harsh, mocking laugh.
"I better stop or I'll get it in my hand, huh?"
"Take off those hose," he panted. She made him feel like a randy teenager who couldn't wait to blow a wad. He'd show her. This was a woman he didn't have to respect or treat "right"; this was a hot-sheet hotel with no parents down the hall. He'd show her.
She unrolled the band of the hose and pushed the material over her rounded belly. A big puff of black hair sprouted out at him as she worked the hose down over her legs. She had a line of black hair all the way up to her navel, and the inside of her thighs were also lined with the sexy furry growth. He'd never seen a woman with such a well-haired crotch; there was something primitive and exciting about it.
Naked now, she sank down on the bed and lay on her back. She held out her arms and he went into them. His cock bobbed against her legs and she parted her thighs to capture it expertly between them. She fitted herself to his body until she was rolling his horny tool in the hairy puddle of her cunt. It was caught in her slice and she snuggled her crotch against it, sighing deeply.
"Look what I found," she whispered. "You're a real hung stud, honey. That's real man meat. I think this is gonna be a good ball, huh? You gonna be good to me like I'm gonna be good to you?"
"Yes . . . yes, I'll give you anything you want."
He felt his rectum throb and almost came between her' legs. The rolling clutch of her abundantly haired pussy was unbearable. He clenched his ass muscles and pulled his rod away from her wet, hungry legs. She was trying to make him shoot so she would be able to charge him more. He had plenty of money with him but he wasn't going to let her fool around.
She laughed, this time not so mockingly, and his confidence quickened. She took one big soft tit in her hands and stuck it up against his face.
"Suck titty, honey, it's good for what ails you."
His mouth opened and covered the enormous brown circle. He tasted the flakiness of her tip and the biting flavor of her strong perfume. She had a row of pimples around her nipple, just like miniature pearls. He ran his tongue around them as his mouth drew in the soft spongy skin. He felt her pasties wrinkle up and push the nipple out into a hard little pouting point. He didn't know whether he had really gotten her hot or whether all women's tits automatically responded to sucking and licking like that. He didn't care. She was a good whore, and a good actress, and it was just the same as if he really had her horny for him. She twisted and moved harshly under his mouth, moaning and sighing and pressing his neck.
"Ooooooh, baby, you suck 'em good. Tickle 'em nice like that. I love to have my jugs diddled."
He went to work on the other one with his fingers. His prick was stretched out and aching; he couldn't fool around any longer as much as her mountainous milkers thrilled him. He knelt over her and thrust a knee between her legs. Her mouth widened into a knowing grin as she spread her thighs out around him and threw her hips up under his rigid hammer. "
Her knees crawled up his ribs and clutched him under the arm pits. When he looked down he could not believe the size of that big diaper of cunt hair she had. How strange it looked with her dyed red hair. Oh, Lorna . . . my beautiful red-haired pussy girl!
"You want a piece of my pie, honey? You really are hot to get in there, huh. Okay, let's fuck, honey."
She reached under her raised legs and grabbed his thrusting dick in her fingers. The entrance of her box was fiery with woman-heat as she stuck his prick head in it. Dan snuggled into her fast-moving crotch and pressed his cock all the way in until he felt the tough thumb-like piece of flesh that was the entrance to her baby carriage. He gave her a few quick pulls, slapping his balls up against her hairy ass crack. He thrust hard, then again, and again, making the rickety bed creak and her big tits bounce across her chest. She planted her feet firmly on the mattress around his hips and lifted her ass high. Then she fucked back with a vicious intensity, all the while tightening her sex muscles around his driving rod.
"Come, honey, get a good bang. Let that juicy rod do its stuff. Shoot me full of that white stuff, honey. Empty your balls in my cunt, sweetheart, come on. Come, baby, come now, now, now!"
"Oooohhh, your whore bitch, yes! Take it, all of it!"
His cock flexed and grew larger for a second, then the spasm hit him. He shuddered aguishly on top of her and loosed his spurt into her churning, muscular vagina.
"EEEEEEEEEEEE! It's hot, honey, God your jism is hot as fire!"
His cock was still pulsating and dribbling semen when she pulled out from under him. He hated her in that instant; he wanted to leave it in and let it come out of her naturally, the way he used to do with Lorna. She loved that, when they were first married. She held his prick inside her as it softened, and her wet walls snuggled around him like a caress. But no whore would do that for him. His twenty-five bucks was up.
Without warning, a wave of crushing defeat welled up in him and threatened to engulf him in its black depths. He gave a harsh cry and broke into tearing sobs.
The whore drew back as though someone had tossed a writhing snake on the bed. She sprang against the wall, her hot black eyes narrowed into cold slits of crafty fear. She was almost cornered, but not quite. Women like her were never cornered. She did not know what kind of a nut she had got this time, but she was used to nuts. Both kinds. Instinctively, she slid into her shoes, though she made no move to put on any of her other clothing. Shoes are a whore's best friend, they're what she walks the streets in; the spikey four-inch heels would certainly never take her very far at a good run, but they were what so many of her customers went ape over. They loved those cruel, daggerish high heels and she knew it. Just why they did she did not know or care; she was not exactly analytical, but she knew what she knew. The bastards loved to jam their cocks in her shoes and jerk off inside them; they loved her to keep her shoes on when they fucked her; some of them even wanted her to shove the long thin spikes up their asses. She had done it all. If she had her shoes she was safe. She was walking on daggers. Daggers were weapons, and very womanly weapons at that.
Dan looked up at her, his face streaked with tears. He wasn't drunk and he wasn't on dope, so he had to be either nuts or ashamed. She'd been with plenty of men who were ashamed afterwards, and she'd had the black eyes and cut lips to prove it.
There were two kinds of ashamed Johns; the ones that beat up the whore and the ones that wanted the whore to beat them up. This John looked like one of the latter. So did his clothes. That overcoat must have cost a couple of C notes. The ones that had a lot to lose, they were the ones that wanted to be punished for going to a whore. The bums were different; they had nothing, so they had nothing to lose, which made them mad because they had already forked over twenty-five bucks they couldn't afford. Then they beat on her.
But this one wouldn't care about the money he had paid her. He would care about what the rest of his money meant to him: nice home, pure women folks, kids, job-all the things he didn't deserve to have after going to a whore. She didn't know why anybody should be so screwed up, but they were.
She came away from the wall, her eyes narrowed craftily, and picked up his pants. She whipped the belt out of them and snapped it in the air. The gesture made her black eyes snap like coals.
He looked at her in wild despair for a moment, then his voice sounded on a raspy, hysterical note.
"Yes! Hit me! Go on, do it! Beat me!"
She brought the whip down on his bare ass. It landed with a sickening sizzle and hiss. His white skin rose in a long pink stripe across his blond-fuzzed buttocks. He groaned and humped his hips for more. She flung the belt down on him again, and again . . . harder, faster, faster, faster. He writhed on the bed, sobbing and crying. After the first few lashes his legs spread wide and he began to fuck his hips into the mattress.
When the whore saw his thick hammer of cock rise from his sandy bush of jock hair she grabbed her purse and whipped out a long thick dildo. It was bigger than any man could be and still be human. It measured about fifteen inches and it had the girth of an axe handle.
She held it up so he could see. It was punishment time, and the ass is the place where bad little boys are punished. There wasn't a whore of her acquaintance who did not own one of these juicy fake pricks.
She strapped it on herself and put her hands on her hips. With her generous adornment of crotch hair she looked like a man in that one area. The rest of her was feline, whorish and vicious. She planted her high heels wide apart and waggled the big stick at him.
"You like to be fucked? I do a good job on asses. I'll give you the best prong back there you ever dreamed of." She patted the stiff dildo with a loud slap. "This jock is like a broom handle, only thicker. You ain't lived till you had something up your asshole, honey. All the guys love that when I do it to them. How about it?
"Yes---oh, God, yes, I want it," Dan moaned.
She smiled her sly smile.
"Twenty-five more, honey. You got the money, I got the time."
Without argument, Dan stumbled up and took his wallet out of his coat pocket. He put the money down on the bureau and flopped across the bed once more. He lay motionless, his eyes closed, his fists knotted in the rumpled covers.
The whore stepped between his widespread thighs and reached under him for his cock. She dragged it between his legs so that he was lying on it. Its knobby tip showed under his balls. She played with the underside for a moment, then rubbed her dildo on it. Dan groaned and worked his hips.
"Okay, honey, I'll give it to you, but first I gotta slick it up."
She took a tube of KY out of her purse and slathered the stuff over her prick. Some of the sticky stuff remained on her hands and with this she lubricated the crack in Dan's ass. She pulled his buns apart and rubbed her fingers through the hairy slice. She drubbed her finger against his pulsating bunghole and felt around inside it.
"You got a nice ass, honey. I go for a man's ass myself. You'd be surprised how nice it is. I love to fuck a good-looking guy like you. You got a trim r one on you all right, not like some of these fat slobs. I'm gonna get me a good piece of your ass now."
She climbed over his naked hips and sat down on the backs of his thighs. With her hands holding his firm cheeks apart, she guided the monster prick into his crack and squirmed the knotty rubber head against his rectum. He stiffened and she cried out to him to relax.
"It ain't gonna hurt, big boy. You guys got a lot more room back here than we do. You can take all I got, don't worry. Just let your ass go and enjoy it."
Expertly, she forced the greasy rubber pike into his springy bung. He made a gagging sound but then, after the initial shock of having a fucking tool in him for the first time, he let his body droop receptively over the bed while she fucked a few more magnificent inches into him. He grunted and moaned as it began to feel good. The whore laughed and jiggled her hips, screwing deeper into his healthy, well-muscled manly bottom.
"You're taking it, honey, I told you, you'd like the stick in your shit road. Ummmmm, I wish I had a clit this big. I'd fuck you with it for free, honey. I'd get such a bang out of that myself I wouldn't have the heart to charge."
He began to thrust his ass up onto the driving pole. His cheeks suckled and nestled lovingly around the new thrill and he began to squirm and twist on the bed as the whore had done a few moments before, when his body was atop hers. She threw him a long fuck and pulled back, dragging his hair-lined anus into a tender pink spout. She braced her spike heels on the floor and moved her hips in a rapid pumping motion in and out of his ass. He howled with joy and urged her on. She reached between his legs and grasped the underside of his prick and massaged it as she pumped hard fucks into his bung.
"Oh, Jesus I I'm going to shoot-"
"Ohhhhh, honey, you're coming like a house on fire! Your ass is sucking to beat the band!"
When she pulled out of him he did not move. He lay panting, his eyes closed, while she took out a tissue and wiped the melted jelly and blood from his rectum. She laughed; this was the part they all loved. Mommy wiping their ass after she punished it. He was no different; there was a stupid half-wit smile on his face, too.
"All right, honey, I ain't putting you to bed for less than a hundred bucks. That's for the whole night, and I do anything you want all that time. How about it?"
But he was spent. He shook his head and got slowly off the bed. As he dressed himself the whore went to the sink in the corner of the room, humped herself, spraddled, across it, and began washing her hairy cunt. She was businesslike and thorough; she opened her sex lips and rubbed the suds into every part of her, all the way back to her bottom. As he listened to the wet slapping sounds Dan wondered if this were the reason the sink was placed so low on the wall. It was bidet-level.
"I could eat you," he murmured, staring at her. "That's ten dollars, honey."
"Next time. What's your name?"
Over the splashing water she said, "Morella."
"Where can I get in touch with you?"
She turned the water off and grabbed a grayish tea towel from the rack. He watched her pass it between her legs like a shoeshine rag, back and forth, back and forth, with neat flipping motions. He had only watched Loma bathe during the two weeks of their honeymoon, but she had always patted her pussy dry. He wondered if that were the difference between nice women and whores.
"Go to the diner across the street and ask them to call me," she said.
She was through with him now. He hesitated, wondering if they were supposed to leave together, or even if he should offer her a lift. It was bitterly cold out and she had nothing but a thin brocaded satin coat. Suddenly he loved her. He waited for her, confused and full of lust once again, but she waved him off.
He went down the stairs and hurried to the bus station where he waited until he saw her come out of the hotel doorway. She did not see him where he stood. He watched her wrap the eyecatching but inadequate coat around her body and bend into the cutting wind from the water. He wondered if she wore such a coat to look pretty for customers, or whether she had no other. Surely not, not with the money he had given her. Multiply that by all her other customers.
Why, then, didn't she have a warm coat? It worried him in a ridiculous but heart-rending way that he could not understand. Then he remembered the pimps. They all had one, and every pimp was a plumed peacock of a sonofabitch, demanding ever more money from the woman who sold herself for his comfort.
Lorna had a pimp, too. His stomach knotted as he thought of Steve Atkins. Suppose he were taking all of Lorna's money away? Suppose she too went about the streets in nothing but an evening wrap on a cold winter night? He stumbled into the bus station and sank down in a chair in the coffee shop. He did not know the difference between fact and fiction now, despite his long association with the vice squad and its various activities. For so long, he had listened to his father talk about fallen women, ladies of the evening, ruined doves . . . the melodramatic soubriquets caused hideous pictures to spring into his mind, pictures that were now underlined by the sight of Morella in the thin coat. He imagined Lorna sick, even hungry.
He put his head in his hands. Atkins was cruel, he knew it. The man was a vicious opportunist and egomaniac; that much had been obvious at his trial. What was he doing to Lorna?
His mind swam with confusion, until the two women, Lorna and the whore Morella, seemed one and the same. There really wasn't much difference between them . . . now. Lorna was gone, but he couldn't let Morella get away from him.
Not if he had to move her right into his parents' house! His hands trembled as he lifted the coffee cup. It would serve them right, both of them, for what they had done to him. They drove Lorna away; it would serve them right.