Chapter 2

The beach was alive with fuzz.

The Channel Nine helicopter hovered over the vestigial remains of the pier and nearly collided with the giant crane brought up from a Pacific Ocean Park apartment project to fish the dozer out of the water.

Laurie was bombarded with questions from newsmen. Her tears were real, and she blamed them on the heat and excitement as she tried to break through the circle of men armed with cameras and microphones in hopes to see if Billy Black's body was still on the dozer. Yes, she had seen a man driving the dozer onto the pier. No, she couldn't see his face. Well, he was fat and short and about fifty. Oh, yes, bald, too, and had a red mustache.

Another of Fingers' tenants, Irish Bob Coffee, was busy snapping shots of the action with his Nikon, wondering why Billy Black wasn't there. This was obviously his work, and it wasn't at all like him to miss a golden opportunity to deliver one of his inspired orations on the police state, corrupt government officials, and inferior construction materials used by the County Supervisor. Billy was particularly sharp in front of TV cameras, and Irish Bob knew that in just five minutes he would have given a convincing argument leading to the conclusion that the pier collapsed of its own volition.

Mayor Conklin, dressed in his usual Liberace-hand-me-down suit, blamed the incident on Communist infiltration, as outlined in his new book, which (luckily he just happened to have a copy in his pocket) he waved before the cameras. He caught up to Irish Bob in the parking lot.

"You seen Billy Black?"

"No, John. You don't suppose he got carried out to sea, do you?"

"If there's a God in Heaven, that's exactly what happened! That son of a bitch is going to ruin everything if we don't stop him!"

"Why don't you and Fats put him away?"

"Funny. Very funny. You should go on the Sullivan Show."

"Or maybe even politics." Irish Bob laughed, remembering some very interesting footage he had shot with a hidden camera in Billy Black's bedroom. At one point in the impromptu little drama, the good Mayor had pushed his pudding between the now-famous-but-then-unknown lips of a French film star, while Charles (Fats) Miller, chief of police, ate out the little lady's box with the gusto of a rooting wild boar.

"I'll give you five thousand for the negative and prints of that thing."

"What, and discontinue our weekly Mayor Conklin Film Festivals? What a loss that would be to Venus culture! And then you would want to close my studio, ending forever the healthy competition between us and Culver City."

"I'll get you one of these days."

"Sure you will. By the way, who does your hair?" asked Irish Bob, biting his tongue to keep from laughing at the aging Mayor's highly-teased white-meringue coiffure.

"I've got this new fellow who works on all the stiffs over at Forest Lawn," he said, vainly gliding his hand over the lacquered surface. "Do you really like it?"

"It's just marvelous!"

The temperature light flashed on the instrument panel of Gloria's Ford convertible, and Billy Black shouted a stream of unrelated obscenities (all of which were directed to the absentee owner of the car) and pulled into a service station.

"She's blown her thermostat," the attendant told him.

"How long will it take to put in a new one?"

"Well, it's Sunday. All the parts houses are closed."

"I'm not here to do research on the fucking work schedules of San Diego merchants! Now, how long will it take to fix it?"

"I dunno. I can phone around, I guess."

"So, do it! Close up the place if you have to. Price is no object. Put it on here." Billy handed the man Gloria's credit card.

"Anything you say, mister."

"What's there to do around here?"

"Well, the zoo's just around the corner."

Billy got out of the car and slammed the door. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Be sure it's ready by then."

He was amazed at the hordes of people flocking into the zoo. It had become quite an attraction since his days at Hollywood High. He was a tall, slim, pretty kid then, already well aware of his cock's marketing potential. He had assured himself a passing grade in English one Saturday afternoon in Miss Thompson's bed, slowly fucking her into an oblivious state while softly reciting an admixture of Byron, Keats and Henry Miller. Miss Willoughby, the Biology teacher, was the only obstacle that stood between himself and graduation.

As Billy walked through the giant bird house, a foliage-filled superstructure in which man could mingle with his feathered friends, total recall of the incident flooded his mind. Miss Willoughby had been an uptight, thirtyish virgin, unable to look Billy directly in the eyes without being overcome with nervous anxiety. To punish him for turning her on, she had graded his papers unfairly, taking off an inordinate percentage for misspelling and punctuation.

The field trip to the San Diego Zoo had been Billy's last chance to change her mind, and he took full advantage of it. Mr. Twitterham, another teacher, who looked amazingly like a stork, was the co-sponsor that day, and Billy made certain that he did most of the work by guarding Miss Willoughby with the one-on-one determination that won him a letter in basketball.

Billy had worn no underwear that day, and by mid-afternoon he had worked up a formidable bulge in his Levis by casually fouling Miss Willoughby's legs and buttocks with his errant wand; and he had sustained his erection with intermittent bouts of surreptitious pocket pool. The heat of his throbbing muscle had quickly penetrated her flimsy cotton dress, and his repetitions of that action were slowly blowing her mind. When she could stand no more of him, she would turn and face him; but this offered her no avenue of escape, for there, only inches from her own, were the two most perfectly shaped robin's-egg-blue eyes she had ever seen. And to make matters worse, there was such a loud plea in his stare, like the soulful look of a cocker spaniel ready to lay down his life for his master.

"And this is a tapir," she said when they had approached a large compound containing several different kinds of animals. "Billy, please don't stand so close. As you can see, the tapir is a member of the swine family, indigenous to tropical regions. Don't stand so close!" She repeated, rapidly fanning her face. "It's a very warm day."

"What's that?" asked Billy, planting his index finger firmly into the center of Miss Willoughby's right tit. "Oh, sorry," he added casually, dropping his hand.

"That's an aardvark, an African ant-eating mammal and member of the groundhog family."

"Isn't there any danger in having them run around together like that? I mean, that's a pretty mean-looking tapir there. Won't he put the muscle on that little aardvark?"

"Oh, no. The zookeepers are very careful about things like that. These animals are quite compatible."

As if the tapir had heard Miss Willoughby's statement, she plopped to the ground and spread her legs wide open to the aardvark, who immediately shot his tongue the necessary two feet and made a direct hit into the lady tapir's slit. Her organ muscles tightened, and she recoiled from this first advance, but quickly relaxed and opened up again.

"I see what you mean," Billy said, nuzzling up to Miss Willoughby's shapely rear and adjusting his dick between the folds.

Miss Willoughby was torn between rushing the children onto the next exhibit and watching the base act being performed. With all her training, she certainly wasn't aware that such acts of perversion were practiced by lower animals; and although the idea repulsed her, she was somewhat mesmerized (only because of scientific curiosity, of course) by their behavior.

The aardvark lapped away, and the tapir began to squeal in a most unlady-like fashion. He never lingered within her, but maintained a steady succession of machine-gunlike pops onto the specific area which brought her the most satisfaction. His marksmanship was flawless. Though she remained stationary, he kept moving his head in a hypnotic arc, yet still managed to strike the same spot each time his awesome tongue darted out to meet her.

Billy began slowly to rotate his hips and prod deeper into Miss Willoughby's backside, but she was unaware of him. She knew something was happening within her. Her heart and pulse rate increased rapidly, and she could feel the love juices flowing from her virgin pussy, but these sensations were surely caused by the obscenity of what she was watching and certainly had nothing to do with the boy who stood behind her.

Lashing with more fury than ever, the aardvark started mixing his action, bouncing his tongue off the thigh of the other animal once in every four shots at her cunt.

The other students were the quietest they had been all day. They witnessed the event in solemn reverence, afraid that their slightest movement might distract the loving couple.

"What are they doing?" asked a cute little blonde, licking her lips nervously.

Miss Willoughby searched for the proper words to explain the phenomenon. "I haven't the foggiest idea," she answered.

Slowly the aardvark waddled to the small pool and stood in the center of it with his head bowed. Why? Maybe to keep a thundering herd of tapirs from beating a path to his door. Maybe this was his way of doing penance for his sins. All the children thought about this as they slowly made their way into the giant bird house. All, that is, except Billy Black. He was thinking about Miss Willoughby's twat.

The bird house was constructed on the side of a hill, and the children had to wind their way down a twisting concrete path overgrown with trees and various tropical foliage, then exit below. Mr. Twitterham was doing his thing. To every bird that made a sound he would answer with a vocal love call.

Billy Black discovered a storage cove, where they kept food for the birds, about halfway down the path. It was blocked with a saw horse supporting a Keep Out sign. He and Miss Willoughby trailed the others. It was cool and smelled sweet in here. Billy ducked behind the barricade to the cove. "Come here a minute, Miss Willoughby," he whispered.

"What? Where are you?"

"In here," he answered, ducking his head out of the cove.

She went to the mouth of the cove and curiously stuck her head into the darkness behind it. Billy grabbed her arm and pulled her inside and onto the cool earthen floor.

"Billy, what is the meaning of this?! "

"Shh, just relax a moment," he said, putting his arms around her and resting her head on his chest. "It's been a long, hot day. Rest for a moment. I want to talk to you. I want to ask you something, and I brought you in here because I don't want the others to hear."

"Well, this is most uncoventional, but since we are already here, what is it?"

"Well, this isn't easy for me to talk about. I've seen you every day for almost a year now, and I think you are the prettiest lady I've ever seen in my life."

"That's very sweet, Billy. I think you are a very good-looking young man."

"And anyway, you know how kids daydream about their teachers and all." He blew lightly into her ear as he talked. "And I was wondering if maybe I could ... well, I mean it would mean a lot to me if I could ... "

The teacher felt good in his arms; she had often wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but never thought she would have the opportunity. "I think I know what you want, Billy," she said, moistening her lips.

"You do?"

"Yes, and it's all right as long as you don't tell the other students."

"Oh, I won't, I promise! Can I do it now?"

She closed her eyes and tilted her face toward his. "Yes, n now.

"Oh, great! I've wanted to eat your cute little box since the first day of school, Miss Willoughby." He had pulled her dress up and' her panties off before she knew what was happening.

"You want to do what to my what? BILLY!"

He spun around and fell face down onto her exposed cunt and immediately sucked her clit into his mouth and tongued it wildly.

"My, God! You can't ... don't! Please! Oh, that feels so good! Stop! Billy Black, stop that this minute!"

"Why?" he mumbled, lapping up the juices flowing from her pussy, keeping constant pressure on her, recalling how the aardvark had done it.

"Oh, shit, I don't know. Mother, you son of a bitch, you lied to me! Turn around, Billy, put your legs back this way so I can get at you!" He obeyed, and she pulled his jeans down around his knees and ran her dainty fingers over the rippling muscles on his young thighs. Taking his stiff prong in her hand, she kissed his hips and lower stomach. Automatically her lips began to nibble away at the base of his cock. She hadn't planned to do that, but then she hadn't planned on her entire being being flooded with the ecstasy and joy which issued forth from this beautiful boy's mouth.

She studied his instrument closely. "Penis Erectus, in its natural habitat," she said, taking his cock between her lips and manipulating its head with her tongue. She liked it. She liked the slightly salty taste of the pre-semen flow, and she sucked greedily, trying to draw out more of the delightful elixir.

"Whoa," Billy moaned softly, and he began to tremble the way a volcano does before eruption. She paid no attention to his plea. "Whoa! Stop!" She stopped sucking and held him firmly in her mouth. He didn't know what to do. If she didn't release him, he knew he would shoot in her mouth; and if he tried to pull out, it would explode before he could get it past her lips. He bit her on the thigh.

"Ouch!" she protested, and he was free. "Why did you do that?"

He swung his body around again and kissed her cheek. "I didn't want to go in your mouth," he said, pecking her face and neck lightly with his lips. "I want to go inside you. I want to feel your lovely body around me, holding me, wanting me; and then I want to flood you with my hot juice."

"No, you mustn't do that."

"Yes, I must!" He kissed her and rolled on top of her. He unbuttoned her dress and removed the bra which was two sizes too small for her. Her tits were voluptuous and sprang into view like twin mounds of rubber compressed in the prison of her bra. Billy Black had never seen such magnificent jugs, and he kissed them tenderly in appreciation of their existence. With his sex in his hand, he probed the entrance to her twitching vagina and plunged through the membrane guarding that passageway.

Miss Willoughby didn't feel a thing, except rapture, as he slowly moved his excited tool inside her. She wished her mother had been there to witness this marvelous event. Look in my eyes, Mother, she thought. Tell me you see the pain you promised I would feel at this time. And just look at Billy's body, moving in and out of me, filling me with more pleasure than I ever thought possible for one human being to give another. Tell me he's ugly, Mother. All men are ugly, rooting beasts who take and never give, remember? This ugly sex maniac is fucking your darling daughter, Mother! What do you think of that? He's fucking, fucking, fucking me; and I'm loving, loving, loving every second of it! Oh, just look at him! His arms and chest are strong and smooth against my excited nipples. His muscle is moving deeper, Mother; and when I tighten my pussy around it, the pleasure increases to a maddening degree. He's plunging still deeper, deeper into virgin territory. Virgin. Oh, how I hate that word!

She is fantastic! Why, oh why have I been wasting my time with the children? Twenty-nine years old, and a virgin to boot! Shit, I'm coming unglued! The top of my head is going to blow off and fall into that big sack of birdseed over there. And those tits! Son of a bitch, they're beautiful! I could spend the rest of my life sucking those sweet things.

How did this happen this way? You were going to show her, remember? You were going to give her a big kick and get a passing grade. Oh, fuck! My darling, I love to fuck you and feel your tits against me and your soft hands playing with my ass. Here I come, my love! The roar in my balls can't be stopped again!

"Oh, yes, Billy, pour your seed into me! I'm com ... com ... COMING WITH YOU! MOTHER, I'M COMING! EGHHHHHH!"

Mr. Twitterham cocked his head near the exit of the bird cage when Miss Willoughby screamed. "Oh, children, we're in luck! That's an African Pussy-feathered Screecher! I thought they were extinct!" He bolted back to cove and ran inside, finding the lovers half dressed. "Is he in here?"

"Who?" Billy asked very coolly.

"The African Pussyfeathered Screecher!? "

"Oh, him. No, he was here, but he got away. Miss Willoughby and I almost lost our clothes trying to catch him."

"Damn! Oh, well, he's got to be here somewhere. I'll find him!" Mr. Twitterham twittered away.

Billy and Miss Willoughby never spoke to one another after that. On the strength of a two-page thesis entitled, "Tapirs I Have Known, by Arnie Aardvark", he received the grade of A in Biology. When all the students had sprinted from the classroom on the last day of school, Billy sauntered up to her desk and paused for a moment. He looked into her eyes; and where before had been nervous anxiety, was now an abundance of warmth and great beauty. No words seem to be right for this occasion. Certainly "goodbye" was the least appropriate thing to say, so he simply smiled and walked out the door.

Now, almost thirty years later, he poked his head back into the same cove, after a brief search for Mr. Twitterham.

He could still smell the lilac powder Miss Willoughby always wore, and he was beginning to form a vision of her lying on the ground in all her naked loveliness, when a guard tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, mate, you can't go in there."

Billy looked back into the cove, and she was gone. "Yeah," he said after a pause, "I guess you're right, male."

After a couple of greasy hamburgers in the square, Irish Bob saw Laurie on the sidewalk with that end-of-the-world look of doom in her tearing eyes.

"He's okay, little girl," he said to her.

"Who?" she replied blankly.

"Billy Black. He's the best swimmer on the beach, so dry your pretty eyes and go home. Hell be back in a few days."

"Who are you, mister?"

"My friends call me Irish Bob. I'm a photographer."

"Are you Billy's friend?"

"Used to be, but not anymore. Billy Black doesn't have any friends. He wears them out quicker than a streetwalker wears out a pair of shoes."

"Can I stay with you until he comes back? The police are watching me, and I can't go back to his house."

Irish Bob thought about his daughter, who would be about the same age as this girl. "Well, I've got some work to do in the studio. Does it bother you to look at naked bodies?"

"Not at all. In fact I rather enjoy it."

"All right. Follow me." He led her through the gate to Fingers' building and into his apartment. The living room was big and light, and the view of the ocean was very good. Irish Bob moved behind the bamboo bar and popped an Alka Seltzer into a glass of water. The hamburgers weren't sitting well in his stomach. He belched and felt much better. "You know, the description you gave of the guy on the dozer fit me to a T."

"Sorry about that. I couldn't think of anyone but Billy, so when they asked me, I picked you out of the crowd and gave them your description."

"Thanks a lot. You're a real pal. Come on back." They went into the first bedroom, which was set up for filming: Klieg lights, two Eclairs (one to be hand held and the other mounted on a tripod with a zoom lens), a draped wall, and a big bed. In the middle of the bed were two naked girls in their mid-twenties. Ginger was blonde (bleached, but so was her pussy so it didn't matter), a big strong girl with a fine set of knockers. Karen was a slight, raven-haired girl with a classically beautiful face, small titties, and an unbelievably strong oral fixation. She was gingerly eating Ginger at the moment the couple walked in.

"Hi, girls," Irish Bob said.

"Don't 'hi' me, you fat fart!" Ginger said. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I've been able to tell the difference between the big hand and the little hand since I was a small boy, thank you." He patted Karen on the head. "Hi, sweetheart. You on a busman's holiday?"

Karen looked up and smiled. "I guess you might say that, Mr. Coffee. Don't pay any attention to Ginger this afternoon. Her boyfriend got married yesterday, and I'm afraid she's a little bit of a sourpuss."

"Do you mean that literally, Karen?"

"Oh, no, never," she beamed. "She's the sweetest-tasting thing I've ever laid lips against." She sank back into her work.

"Well, I'm still waiting for an answer, turd-face! Where were you?"

"Fuck you, Ginger! That's your answer. To Karen I'll talk-you I'll just shoot. Karen, I'm sorry I'm late. There was a little excitement on the beach, and I took some shots of it."

"Oh, that's okay," she mumbled into Ginger's hairy snatch.

"Girls, I want you to meet ... uh, what's your name, sweetheart."

"I'm Laurie."

"And this is Karen and (he made a disagreeable face) Ginger."

"Hi, Laurie," Karen said warmly. "I love your hair. It's such a pretty shade. Do you do it yourself?"

"Thank you. No, it's natural."

"It's lovely. In fact all of you is lovely."

"Thank you. Coming from you that's quite a compliment. You're a beautiful woman."

"And I'm the fucking Queen of Sheba," Ginger growled. "Can we cut out all this lez talk and start shooting some shit? This broad's eating all the fire out of me."

"Where's Ronnie?"

"He called about an hour ago. Got his ass busted for trying to rape a white girl in the YWCA pool," Ginger said.

"Aw, shit! Well, I'll just have to get somebody else."

"There's nobody's hung like that black cat," Ginger said.

"Oh, yes, there is. I'll be right back." He went into the other bedroom.

Karen patted the bed. "Sit next to me, Laurie. Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind," she said, sitting on the bed.

"I can't get over the sheen in your hair," Karen said, stroking. "And it's so silky. Mmmmmm, that's nice."

Irish Bob dialed the Sandpiper and John answered. "Hello, Nick?"

"Nick's out, sweetie. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, John. This is Irish Bob. Where's your brother?"

"Who knows? Out balling some chick's brains out, I guess."

"My boy didn't show up today, and I need him to shoot some sex scenes. You busy?. "

"What's the scene, baby."

"Two girls."

"Not me, daddy. I can't get up for a perversion gig."

"Two hundred bucks. Two hours work. That's not bad, John."

"Don't need the bread, man. Got bread coming out of my ass."

"What about for old time's sake, then? I've spent a small fortune in your place."

"How about this, mother? One 'C' note and a five-minute blow job. I've been aching to shove Homer between those chubby little cheeks of yours."

"Yeah, you say five minutes, and the next thing I know I'm piled up in the hospital with a busted rectum from that side of beef you call little Homer. No way, baby. But I'll do this. Two hundred for today, and next month I'll star you in the biggest, all-color, stereophonic sound, 35mm fag flick ever made on the face of the earth. I'm even flying in talent from New York City. What do you say?"

"Give me ten minutes." He hung up.

Irish Bob walked back into the other room, and Karen had removed Laurie's bikini top and was gobbling her young tits like ice cream cones. "Hey, hey, hey! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't fondle the guests!"

"But I don't mind," Laurie said as she stroked the slim back of her new found friend.

"Karen, don't you ever get tired?"

"No, and besides, my shrink told rne to keep doing it till I got it out of my system."

"And just when did he tell you that?"

"About six years ago."

"Whew! Okay, let's get to work. My boy is coming right over, so let's take the first shots. Get your clothes on."

"Can she do it with us?" Karen asked, slipping into her hose and garter belt.

"No, Karen," Laurie said. "My father sees a lot of these things, and it would be pretty embarrassing for him if I showed up in one."

"Come on, Ginger, get your mind on the business. The blue robe, remember?"

"It's always this same shitty blue robe. Why don't you pry yourself loose from a few dollars and buy us some new threads?"

"Okay, get under the covers. All the way. Now remember, we're going to do the voice-over later, but you have to say the words so we can match it." He turned on the Eclair on the tripod after flipping on the lights. Laurie covered her eyes and watched from behind the camera. "Okay, pick up the book. Flip through the pages. Tilt it a little this way so we can see the pictures. That's right. Now, slowly slide your hand under the covers. Now, play with your cunt. React! Look, you're getting turned on. Good, good, now press a little harder. A little more. Fine. Now turn the page with your tongue. That's good. Lick your lips. Lick your hand. No, not that hand. Your other hand. Okay, put it back under the covers. Coming back. Walk in Karen. Give your line."

"Hi, Mary. The door was open so I just let myself in."

"Oh, you startled me! I didn't hear you."

"Are you feeling all right?"

"Sure, just lazy."

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing. Jerry left it last night. It's just a book."

"May I see it?"

"Oh, you don't want to sec it. It's kind of pornographic."

"Let me decide that for myself, Mary." She plopped on the bed, showing the lop of her stockings.

"That's good," Irish Bob said. "Pick up the book. Look a little shocked. Turn to another page. Open your eyes wider. Line."

"Hey, you're right, this stuff is pretty strong. I haven't seen anything like this since before I was married. It sort of takes your breath away, doesn't it?"

"Not only that, it makes me horny. It makes me want to touch somebody."

"Do you want to touch me, Mary?"

"Oh, yes!"

"I want you to." The girls kiss.

"Oh, I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"I did, too, but I was afraid you didn't want to."

"What are we waiting for?! " Ginger threw back the covers, exposing her pussy. Irish Bob zoomed in for a tight shot as Karen pulled open the lips and began lapping her cunt.

John Mykonas walked in, and Irish Bob motioned for him to be quiet. Silently he started stripping.

"Do you like it when I kiss you there, Mary."

"Oh, yes, but stop. I want to get your clothes off so I can make love to you for a while."

Irish Bob pulled back as Ginger removed Karen's dress, bra, and panties, leaving her stockings and garter belt on. The two girls fondled and kissed each other all over, winding up in a sixty-nine position. Karen was on top, and she looked at the book and ate pussy at the same time.

"Mary?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Is Paul as big as the fellow in this book?"

"Uh huh."

"Simon isn't. I sure would like to feel something that big inside me."

"Well, why don't you come over some night when Paul's here. He'd love to make love with you."

"Gee, that sounds good. When could we do it?"

"How about now?" John said, walking right up to Ginger's face, almost touching her with his dong, which hung almost to his knee.

"God damn!" Ginger exclaimed. "Take a look at the club on that boy!"

"Cut!"

"Jesus Christ, fella," she said, instinctively reaching out and touching his super-cock, "where the hell did you get that thing?"

"Yellow pages."

"How long is it when it's hard?" Karen asked, eyes much wider open than they were in the scene she just played.

"I don't know. Whenever it gets hard, it uses so much blood I pass out." Everybody laughed.

"Okay, okay, very funny dialogue; but unfortunately I can't use it in my film. So Ginger, if you'll just let go of that monster, well finish the scene."

"Let go! Honey, I'm in love!"

"Sorry, little girl," John said, "but I'm as queer as a four-humped camel."

She let go. "I knew it was too good to be true! I just knew it! The, way my luck's been running, if I opened a funeral parlor, everyone would quit dying."

"Let's take it from your last line, Karen. Ginger you answer with, 'I think that's him now', and John, all you have to do when they ask you a question is agree with them. And put your socks back on. What do you think this is, an art film? Places, everybody. Rolling the camera. Action. Give your line, sweetheart."

"Gee, that sounds good. When could we do it?"

"Hey, I think that's him, now! Get under the covers and pretend you're asleep!" Karen ducked under the covers and shut her eyes.

"Go, John." John enters.

"Hi, darling," Ginger said, going to him and putting her arms around him. "Did you have a busy day at the office."

"Yes."

She wiped her forehead. "Golly, it sure is a hot day. Is that why you took off all your clothes?" Yes.

"Well, uh ... Sarah's here. See her sleeping in our bed."

"Uh huh."

"She and Simon had this big fight, and maybe you should try to cheer her up."

"Okay."

"Move onto the bed, John. That's right. Freeze right there!" Irish Bob shut off the camera and picked up the other Eclair and turned it on. "Now, pull back the covers slowly. No, don't look at me! Look at her. She's beautiful. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Pretend she's a dude! Rub her stomach very gently. That's right. Honey, don't open your eyes, but move your ass a little like you're having a sex dream. Good, very good. Coming around for another angle. Don't look up, John. Open your legs so we can see your cock. Now, kiss her. Fake it if you like, but make it look real." John leaned over and pressed his cheek against Karen's. The back of his head covered the shot. "Good, now hold that. Wake up, Karen. Slowly. Put your arm around him. Run your fingers through his hair. Good. Start to hunch, baby. Find his cock with your other hand. Perfect! Fuck her fist, John. Come on, baby, get it up. Pretend, John. Think about the prettiest cat you ever balled. That's a good boy. Swipe a little juice from your cunt, Karen, to lube him up. That's it. Up and down and up and down. Not too fast. Hunch, sweetheart." He swung the camera around. "I'm on you now, Ginger. Breathe a little faster-the scene is really turning you on. Let your hands move like they had minds of their own. One on the nipple. Make it hard. Good, good. The other in the snatch. Dig a little deeper. Fine, now slide onto the bed. I got you covered. Keep jerking, Karen. Move between her legs, Ginger. Stick out your tongue and lightly trace her slit. Back and forth. That's right. Okay, John, you're going to Ginger's cunt. Take your hand away, sweetheart. Slowly spin around, John. I can see your face now, Karen. Let's hear some moans and see some ecstatic expressions. Okay, John, head down and cock pointing at the ceiling. Very nice. Go down on him, Karen. Eat him alive, sweetheart. Pretend, John. Eat a little faster, Ginger. Bury your face in her pussy, John. All I've got is the back of your head, so keep your mouth shut so you don't gag. Ginger, let's see some hip action. Okay, everybody, we're going home. A little faster. A little more action. Faster. Faster. Faster. HIT IT!"

The three bodies flailed in wild abandon. Karen tickled John's balls, sucked as hard as she could on his glans penis, and he shot off like a skyrocket. He lost all control and his bones rattled around in jelly-like flesh, like those of a man sitting in an electric chair. He was out of his mind. Everything went haywire; his mouth swung open and he rammed his tongue so far into Ginger's cunt that she swore she could feel him licking the lining of her stomach. Not expecting anything at all, his torrid tongue totally surprised her into the biggest climax of her life, and she nearly bit off the tip of Karen's clit, sending her screaming into orgasmic oblivion. Unable to swallow John's load before she was hit, Karen sprayed the camera lens with his come when this guttural roar erupted from the pit of her stomach. She immediately grabbed his tree with both hands, took the top six inches into her mouth and sucked so hard John envisioned his whole body rushing into her mouth like a soda through a straw. He shot another load: a feat he had never accomplished before, nor even thought possible. The second his lips touched Ginger's clit, she was hit by a succession of machine-gunlike orgasms and transmitted the same sensation into Karen by reaming the walls of her cunt with her tongue. Karen tried for more, sucking even harder, but the cupboard was bare; and John let out a blood-curdling scream, tore himself from Karen's lips, rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a loud crash.

All you could hear now were weak moans and heavy breathing. Karen toppled over, and when she smiled jism rolled out of the side of her mouth and down her rosy cheek. Ginger lay on her back like a decked heavyweight. Slowly, she managed to cover her face with her arm and began to weep.

"Cut! That was pretty good, kids. Take five."

Laurie's head snapped back when Irish Bob spoke. It was as though she were awakened from a deep trance, and she wondered what had become of her bikini bottoms, and why her hands were so wet.

"Queer mother-fucker!" Ginger said, as the tears streamed down her face.

"Perverts!" John shouted from the floor. He tried to wipe the foul taste from his mouth with the bedspread. He wiped and spat and wiped again, but it didn't help.

"Isn't it disgusting?" asked the eighty-year-old white-haired lady, sitting next to Billy Black on the bench.

"Positively. Sometimes I get so upset about it I can't speak."

"Well, it's certainly refreshing to hear you say that, young man. Most of the young people these days are so wild and foolish they can't see the forest for the trees."

"You're absolutely right, ma'am. By the way, what are you talking about?"

"All these naked animals, for God's sake! Just look at 'em! They have no shame. Showing their organs and doin' intimate things to each other in front of little children. Do you know what that hairy gorilla did to me this morning?"

"No, but it sounds exciting."

"He shit in his hand and threw it on me, that's what he did!"

"I see," Billy said, turning his head to keep from laughing in the woman's face.

"I spent my life's savings on clothes for these thankless devils, and do you think they appreciated it?"

"Did they?"

"No, they didn't. Tore 'em off as fast as I put 'em on. Then I decided to sew 'em right onto their skin, and that was workin' fine until some men came and put me away. Nobody cares anymore." There was a pause. "Nobody cares anymore!"

"You said that."

"Just look at her, the shameless hussy."

"Who?" '

"That monkey up there. She's flirtin' with you, can't you tell? Let her out of that cage and in five minutes she'd tear all your clothes off."

Billy looked across the path at the huge monkey cage. There were about two hundred of them, swinging and running, vying for food from the people clustered around the cage. All seemed to be caught up in the spirit of the game, except one lone monkey who sat high in the cage, looking down on Billy and the old lady. She was absent-mindedly fingering her navel; when Billy looked up at her, she quickly glanced away.

"Now the little bitch is playing hard to get. I'll see you later." The little old lady sprang to her feet and almost fell down.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to report her to the zookeeper. Did you hear that, you little slut?" she shouted to the monkey, cupping her hands around her mouth. "It's a sad day when a good-lookin' young fella like you can't go to the zoo without bein' made eyes at by an oversexed simian." She toddled away.

Billy laughed till he cried, and his response brought a high-pitched, laugh-like chattering from the monkey; but again, as soon as he looked up at her, she became silent and looked away. Then the game of who-can-catch-who-looking-at-who began; soon man and beast were staring at each other, and Billy could actually feel communication flowing between them.

"It's ridiculous," he said, walking to a vendor from whom he purchased a bag of grapes. He fed the other monkeys, but kept tabs on her behavior out of the corner of his eye. For half an hour she kept a distance of about fifteen feet between them; but when Billy reached through the bars to pat one of the monkeys on the head, she attacked her adversary and threw the surprised victim to the other side of the cage. She then planted her feet firmly on the ground, stretched her arms out to Billy; and (looking a great deal like Jolson getting ready to break into a few bars of Mammy) she began smacking her lips together. There was so much emotion in her action, Billy wished he could walk through the bars and quiet her with a hug.

He started to move away, but she grabbed his sleeve through the bars and looked up at him with the most beseeching eyes he had ever seen on a female, regardless of her species. Patting her hand tenderly, he spoke to her quietly and offered her some grapes. Pained that he would think that she had the same needs as the others, she threw them away, but quickly forgave him for his faux pas, and placed his hand on her heart. It was beating furiously.

Her child came up to her and tried to climb onto her back, but a well-phrased screech sent it scurrying. Then came her mate, who tried to bite Billy's hand; but she prevented that mishap by getting him in a half-nelson and beating his head against the concrete side of the cage. A little dazed, but still filled with jealousy, the rejected mate continued to try to separate his woman from her new suitor; but the loving couple, tripping on each other's look and touch, completely ignored him. He took Billy's bag of grapes and went away.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and they were soon chatting quite naturally with one another, like a mate visiting his lover in jail. They paid no attention to the other people and monkeys, who responded to this strange alliance with a variety of emotions, ranging from alarm to titillation.

Billy returned to his car and got a motel room nearby. He was with his new girlfriend every minute of the visiting hours for the next ten days, and their relationship grew and flowered. Marks on her face and body told Billy that she was being sorely punished by her irate husband "in his absence, but she never complained, nor tried to hide her feelings for Billy in her mate's presence. They couldn't go on this way, Billy thought toward the end of the tenth day. He had to get her out of there.

"Am I to understand you clearly, Mr. Black? You wish to purchase one of our monkeys?" The zookeeper had a curious arch in his right eyebrow as he spoke.

"Yes, sir. I've become quite fond of her, and I'd like to take her back to L.A. with me."

"One particular monkey, you say?"

"Yes, sir. She's medium height, good build, graceful stature, easily the most attractive one in the cage."

"Uh huh. Out of a culture of almost two hundred monkeys, you have absolutely no trouble recognizing her?"

"No sir, none at all."

"And out of the millions of visitors that pass through these gates, you say that she has no trouble recognizing you?"

"We're quite close."

"I see. You have stated her on your application that you feel she is in danger here."

"Absolutely. You see, when I leave, her husband beats her. He's a cowardly little devil. He won't confront me with the problem anymore, but takes his frustrations out on her. Probably at night when she's asleep."

"There is also the matter of a child, I understand."

"Well, I think that should be my responsibility. I think children should remain with the mother, don't you?"

"Yes, I agree." The little spectacled man spun his chair around and looked out of the window behind his desk. "Mr. Black, we sometimes release our animals if we feel it is for a good purpose; but in this case I'm afraid there is no reason for it."

"I know you should be repaid for whatever you have invested, and I'm perfectly willing to do that. Say, five hundred dollars?"

"Money is not an issue in this matter, Mr. Black. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"I don't think you realize how important this is to me, sir.

"That is not an issue, either, I'm afraid."

"And that is your final word."

"Yes. Good day."

"Now, you listen to me, you four-eyed, sawed-off cocksucker, I'm taking her out of here if I have to cut my way through those fucking bars to do it!" Billy started climbing over the desk to get at the man, who pulled open a drawer, removed a gun and shook it nervously in his face.

"Don't you come any closer! I get all the nuts in the state of California in this office. If it's not an old woman pressing charges against a gorilla, it's one of you goddamned perverts wanting to elope with a monkey. Now get out of here, and don't come back!" Billy walked toward the door. "Believe me, Mr. Black, these things never work out," he said with compassion. "I know. I had an affair with a lovely chimpanzee I met in West Africa. We had three beautiful years, but the differences in our backgrounds finally caught up with us. She ran away with her third cousin, and I've been searching for her ever since." He turned back to the window and looked out in the distance. "Maybe today a shipment will bring my beautiful Helen back to me. Can you hear me, Sweetheart? Are you ... " Billy slipped out and quietly shut the door behind him.

When he got back to the cage, she sensed that something had gone wrong. Sadly, but bravely she reached out for that final touch-that final squeezing of hands. Billy reached through the bars, pulled her to him, kissed her on the forehead and made his way back to the gates. She climbed to the highest perch in the cage, so she could keep him in her sight as long as possible. Before tripping the turnstile, Billy paused, feeling that she was looking at him. He didn't look back.