Chapter 9
It was part of the hours, Lei said, part of the business. Most people had breakfast and lunch, but showgirls usually had two breakfasts. So they had pancakes and little sausages this time, for the second menu, with pats of butter and real sorghum molasses bought from a little import shop on the wharf.
Over coffee laced with a good brandy, they talked again, wandering bits of information at first, small disclosures about themselves, their early lives, little glimpses of the dreams they'd had before the dreams got bruised by realities.
They took turns in the shower, then, and Lei had a safety razor he used to clean up the stubble. It was two in the afternoon then, and Rush thought it was time to call the Allison house. For a moment, it was as if he was punching in, or asking their permission, but the idea faded after Jan Allison giggled at him and said Lorna had flown up to San Francisco, and only the sisters were available, if he was in a hurry.
He laughed with the girl, and asked about Kemp and the fag. Hadn't been seen, Jan said, probably still running. Okay, Rush said, he'd see them that evening, probably.
When he hung up the phone, Lei's face was a little sad. "Want me to move out?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Not-not unless you want to."
He hesitated. "Lei, there's something I have to do, something that's very, very important to me. Lorna Allison may be a part of that."
"Money?"
"Not her money." He wanted to tell her everything, but the warning bell rang softly in the back of his head, or maybe it was something left over from the distrust of prison. "I-there's money involved, all right, a lot of money. Enough so it can mean that place to be free I talked about, that spread in the mountains. Right now-it could be dangerous, and about all I can say is that maybe Lorna will have to help me. That's the reason I'm out there in that palace."
"One of the reasons," she said.
"Okay, that, too. I dig those wild scenes. Nothing like them ever happened to me before, and I get some far out kicks with Lorna, especially when Jan and Cleo mix in. And along that line, what makes you so cooperative, as Lorna says?"
Lei passed him a smoke, and lighted one for herself. "It's a little bit that way with me, too. I mean, digging the wild scenes. Lorna can do that to people-to me, anyhow. She's the only woman I ever made it with. But that's not all. Lorna Allison can pull strings all up and down this coast. The Shipwreck Club is just for kicks. She has pieces of companies in a dozen different businesses, and people listen when she says something."
He waited awhile, but she didn't follow that up. He had the picture, though. A stripper would have a tough time finding work on the coast, if Lorna said no.
"Okay," he said. "Let's leave it for now, then. But you still owe me something."
"Oh? What?"
"The story of your deflowering, that dark day when you became a non-virgin. I made my confession, now it's your turn."
Lei leaned back in her chair and stretched, her arms up over her head. The movement pushed her breasts up and out, so her nipples made bulges; they were soft now, but he could look at their outlines and remember how dark they were when they turned erectile, how they were shiny and nearly black.
"My story was different," Lei said. "No two kids making it together, no dream fulfillment. It happened to me before I knew what the hell it was all about. Hang loose, Rush, and I'll tell you the sad tale of the Chinese chick, or how the fortune cookie got turned into a stripper."
And she told him, slowly at first, haltingly, and he knew she'd never gone through this with anyone else, that she'd never gotten the story out before now. He also knew why she'd asked for this, so she could take a turn, so she could open to him all the way, and show him how it was with her.
She was fourteen, she said, and knew about sex the way most kids her age knew-third hand and all goofed up. Her family was kind of old country, and she wouldn't get to go out on dates until she was seventeen, so any real know-how was a long way off. She'd experimented a little, of course, tickled herself with her finger, and stuff like that.
He was forty years old, and some kind of professor. A round-eye, a Caucasian, and someone the family respected because all Chinese respected education. He was good-looking and attentive, and a fourteen year old girl thought he was just the most because he listened to her and looked at her.
Lei could tell, even then, but she had no idea she was playing with something explosive. She liked being looked at, for her breasts had started to bloom, and her legs were slimming, and her thighs made a funny tingle when they brushed against each other. And for a grownup man to stare slyly at her when he thought she didn't notice-well, that was something.
A new book she'd like, he suggested over the phone one afternoon. She needn't take long, just a stopover on the way home from school. She could tell her people a day ahead of time that she had to stay a little later, an hour or so. It was like having a big secret, a conspiracy, so of course Lei agreed.
Because she carried her schoolbooks into the hotel, nobody even noticed her, and she wished she'd had something to change into, something besides a goofy middy blouse and pleated skirt and sneakers. She still had the pink bow in her hair, and that made her feel gawky, too, so she slipped it out and put it in her pocket before she knocked timidly on the numbered door.
He smiled her inside and gave her a coke and a cream puff and said how very nice she looked. And when she finished eating the cream puff, he went over and locked the door and told her to take off her clothes.
"W-what did you say?"
He advanced on her, a long black leather belt somehow in his hand. "Don't scream, little girl. If you scream, I'll choke you and throw you out of that window. You'll die on the sidewalk down there-five floors down. Take off your clothes, you little Oriental bitch!"
She was so afraid she couldn't breathe. He didn't look handsome any more, but terrifying, like someone out of a horror movie. She fumbled at her blouse, afraid not to, and he jerked off her skirt.
"The panties," he ordered, and she saw him getting out of his bath robe. "The little bra, my dear. Ah, that's it-such lovely skin, you little bitch-oh, what an adorable little cunt."
Lei was trembling and cold, but there was a weakness in her knees, in her belly. She recoiled a step when she saw his organ, all huge and red and swollen. She had no idea one could be that big.
He sat down in the big chair, with his legs stuck out and spread apart; there was a jar of salve on the table at his elbow, and he lubricated himself with it. Still shaking, she came to stand over his big penis when ordered, and he used the greasy stuff on her, too.
All the time, he kept talking to her in his modulated, educated voice, calling her beautiful, and in the next breath a sex trap, a nymphet who'd been teasing him for months.
All the time, Lei kept thinking this was a kind of movie, and nothing would really happen. But he kissed her young tits and rubbed his. soft, deft hands over her ass and made her rub up against that great big thing of his, that monster cock that stuck up so thick and long out of his nest of thick brown hair.
He kissed her and tongued her, and she had to admit that she liked that a little bit, but being naked with him, and feeling that ugly staff against her belly-all that kept her frightened so she could barely think.
So when he put both hands around her small waist and lifted her up tippytoe, and stuck the gleaming head of his thing up to her little box, Lei still didn't feel much, only fear. Until he wiggled it around and got it somehow between her tight lips and then pulled her entire body down, so that his prick came up and her virgin pussy came down on it, with her thighs spread and the slippery salve making it possible for him to squeeze into her an inch.
It hurt. It hurt like hell, and she was going to scream anyhow, even if he choked her and threw her five floors down out of the window. But he clamped one hand over her mouth and the other over her ass to force her farther down on his stiff organ, and the thing worked another inch up into her agonized pussy, spreading the lips and tearing her, hurting her.
She tried to bite his hand and she beat at his head, but he kept right on jabbing up, hunching it into her, and pushing her thin, twisting body down harder and harder. Then something broke, something gave way, and he rammed it all the way. She felt that huge prick inside her, stuffing her, filling her torn pussy; she felt her cheeks come down on that curly hair, on his wrinkled up sack, and she was suddenly belly to belly with him.
He stroked her then, rolled her dainty ass between his hands so that she made small gyrations upon his rod, and she realized that he had let go of her mouth. But Lei didn't scream; she didn't feel like screaming. She found herself moving with him, her belly sliding across his, her young cunt was loosening, tingling, and all of a sudden, the pain was gone.
"Ahh, you sweet little bitch," he said to her, and heaved up as she wiggled on his staff, as she reveled in the size and length of it, and the slidy feeling got better and better.
She moaned and held onto his shoulders and kind of jumped up and down on him as he stroked it into her, as he fucked her strong and well, and when she felt him spurt thick and hot inside of her, she felt like a woman, a woman, not a kid. And she proved it by hitting her own orgasm, by coming with a mad, wild, quivering series of spasms that shook her inside and out.
That first orgasm changed her life. Because she loved it. She went back to the professor again and again, and did everything he told her to do for him and to him, and she loved everything he did back to her.
When the professor suddenly left town and the state, Lei was heartbroken, for she had somehow believed the ecstasy would last forever, but then she was only fourteen, and a romantic.
Lei lit another cigarette and got up to refill their coffee cups. A breeze off the Bay came probing through the window and fluttered the curtains, smelling of kelp, tasting of salt and far places. Lei said: "At sixteen, my family caught me laying a boy in the basement of our home, and my lather threw me out. Three weeks later, when I got hungry enough, I lied about my age and became an exotic dancer, which is the agency tag for a stripper. I'm just a little tired of stripping, Rush, a little tired of cigar smoke and drunks and doing favors on any place big enough to lie down on."
"Hell," he said, "your family should have given you at least another chance."
"They didn't," she said. "But that taught me to separate romance from sex, most of the time. I liked doing it, but I learned not to fall in love with every man I laid. Love doesn't have to be a part of it.
"But it helps?" Rush asked. "It helps," she said, and looked down into her coffee cup.
He went over to stand behind her, to lean and kiss the top of her head, his hands lightly upon her shoulders. He said into her hair, that blackly lustrous hair. "We'll make it, Lei; you and me and the hell with the rest of them. In a little while, in just a little while."
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears when jShe stood and turned to him, and there was a special softness to her lips when she kissed him. He held the length of her firm, lush body pressed to him, and she felt good, warm, throbbing.
"Take you down to the club and buy you a drink," he suggested.
"Later," she said, "after. You think I fed you and let you use my shower and told you my sordid story, just to have you walk on out of here with your honor intact?"
She'd made the switch with an effort, but changed her mood from depression to upbeat, blinking the tears from her eyes. Rush loved her for it, for the try, the change, the reason. He kissed the end of her nose, her eyelids, and suddenly her body was fierce against him.
She gave him her mouth, a warmly mobile pair of lips, a tongue that searched hungrily for his, the small and perfect teeth that clashed with his, and the gusting breath that was an essence of her.
She walked backward, hands on his cheek and neck, and drew him with her to the bed. They fell across it together, and the translucent dressing: gown fell open across her thighs, her shapely legs flashed, and his hands roamed that lovely body,: those modelled hills and succulent valleys that would never become too familiar to him.
"No," she murmured, "no, Rush. Get thaw damned robe off-lie back. Let me do it all, baby-all. Don't even move."
He pampered her, gave in to her whim, lying flat on his back with his legs spread and his penis standing high. Lei fondled his body, kneeling there with the black tent of her richly profuse hair spread over her shoulders and down her back. Her soft hands slid over his shoulders, his chest, down to his hips, his belly; she bypassed the rigid organ and caressed his thighs, his knees.
Coming back up the same way, this time she ran her fingers lightly over his staff, into the hair, down around the scrotum. Leaning, she kissed thej head, touched it quickly with her tongue, and! moved on before he could thrust it at her.
Placing one rounded and silken knee on each side of his body, and poised for a long moment rstaring down at him, her pelvis high and shining black, the flawless skin tinted by a deep golden color, with ivory highlights.
Lei reached down between her legs and took hold of his cock. She bent it just so, positioned it properly, and lowered her body toward it, coming down upon it slowly and tantalizingly. He felt the first touch of her pubic hair, the first hint of dampness at her labia, and a tremor moved along his rod to his belly. Smiling down at him, her eyes hotly dark and almond, she roated her tail just a bit, and his glans slid across the dewy lips.
Back the other way she came, teasing, playing with him, still clinging to his rod with both hands, using it as she might toy with a dildo, prolonging the moment of entry. Back and forth across her dampening lips, she rubbed him; up and down in the tingle of her crisply curled pubic hair. He was more than ready by the time she inserted the head into her grasping labia and lowered her weight slightly more upon him.
His rod went an inch up into her sheath, or rather she came down an inch upon it, for Rush fought himself not to move, to do exactly as she wanted him to perform, battled to keep his hands from those flaring hips. Lei came down some more, and his staff slid past the clinging labia and into the narrow passageway of her hotly thrilling pussy.
Lei gasped, and a pulsation ran the length of her vagina. She couldn't play any longer. She came down upon his rod with a single, twisting surge, with a driving movement that seated him full length into her and they were belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, their pubic hair mingling, turning dewy.
She rocked upon him, sliding her tail back and i forth, then swinging slowly from side to side, and she screwed him so gently, so blissfully.
"Hey, baby-that's so good. Oh man-I can feel it all the way up me, real tight in me. Darling, darling-you're so sweet and hard, and how I love your prick in me like this. When I grind you this way, and pump you that way, I can feel the head of it rub the walls, and the stem rub my clit. Oh, doll-this is where it's truly, truly at!"
Tenderly then, she stepped up the rhythm, turning the cheeks of her trim and delightful ass at an angle, then back, then to the other side. She stroked him up and down, and her pussy was a steam box, a lubricated slot that tightened and loosened upon his rigid, throbbing organ, that warmed him and fondled him, and began to pump him up and up.
Dammit! He couldn't take it any longer, not another second longer. His hands came up of their own volition and caught her twisting hips. He pulled her down violently upon his rod, and arched his back to try and drive it just that impossible fraction deeper into her flexing vagina.
She came, frothing and bucking on his upright staff. He hit a split second behind her, fired it high and furiously into the upper reaches of her box, pumped it out against her shivering womb.
Panting, she fell forward upon him, and her hard-nippled breasts swung flat against his hairy chest. Her breath stirred gasping against his throat, and all that luxury of scented hair spread over both of them, covering and blessing their oneness.
After a long, slowly melting while, Lei whispered, "You cheated."
"Okay," he said. "I lost. I owe you a drink."
"And a rematch," she said, kissing his mouth. "Don't forget the return bout clause."
She climbed off him, and went in the bath to clean up. He lay for a while thinking about her, smelling the scent of her that hung about him, a sidue of her being with him and loving him. Rush pretty sure of that much-Lei loving him, all id completely with her mind as well as her flesh.
But it was too soon, maybe too quick altogether. There was still the stuff waiting in the mast of the Bianca, the moves to be made so it would turn into a suitcase full of money. And there were still the Allisons, the glamorous mother and the beautiful daughters, and they were mixed in with the hermit years, the monk-hood years when the up and coming middleweight had deprived himself and his man's needs.
They were too much for him to turn down, even if Lei was with him, for him, all the time. They were the differences, the candy wrappings of the varied and intriguing packages of sensuality. Lorna-tiny and golden and knowing of all things sensual. Jan-small and child-like, the constant eager virgin. Cleo-young and worldly and open; what man could turn down such a trio?
Not until they tired of him. Not until the newness and marvels wore off, and it might take a good long time for all of that to erode. He hadn't had the three of them together yet, and he closed his eyes to picture the three in bed together at the same time, all glowingly naked, all joined by the heat of their blood line and their mutual lust for him, for their stud.
"Hey now," Lei said. "Here I am all dressed, and look at you."
He grinned and sat up. "Just thinking."
"That was obvious," she said. "You're about at half mast. You must be some kind of sex maniac, and don't ever stop."
Rush laughed at her and took his turn in the bathroom. The one sport jacket was looking a little sad, but his shirt was clean, and there were no ', stains on his slacks. He'd have to do something before long. The thirty bucks left from the generosity of the penal authorities wouldn't buy much in the way of new clothes.
"Drinks, then," Lei said. "At the Shipwreck, naturally. Then we can grab a bite on the wharf before I have to go to work and you have to-do whatever."
They walked the few blocks, and the afternoon was kind, the sun warmer than usual for a Monterey summer, and the fog less. Gulls wheeled and piped overhead, and Rush thought that the smell of the sea was good, but not as good as the mountains, with wind off the snowcaps and down from the high fir trees.
"I'll go back for the car," he told her, and took her elbow to help her along the uneven wharf, where her spike heels might catch.
Three flower-shirted tourists sat together at a table in the Shipwreck. The barkeep said hi to Lei and nothing to Rush. He was the same dark, sour individual who'd grunted at Rush the day before, and he was beginning to rub the wrong way.
But the mast was there, set about by bottles, and Rush smiled at it.