Chapter 3
"So momma's little man is going to be a pimp, eh?" said Rita sarcastically. "Don't you think that's stepping in faster company than you can handle?"
"I told you, Hon," Sid replied, turning from the window of their Regal Arms Hotel apartment. "I'm not getting in with any Mafia or anything like that. I have one partner...."
"Who's the partner?"
"I can't tell anyone, not even you, hon," he smiled amiably. "But it's a very simple, loose arrangement, and high class. All we'll be doing is supplying chicks for functions and all I have to do is make the arrangements."
She was unconvinced. "How much are you getting from Dean?" she asked.
"He's forking over 750 clams for his grand opening. I get a third of it. Not bad, huh?"
Rita shook her head disgustedly. The poor boob. Wasn't he good for anything? Okay, so he was good sex himself and he didn't bug her when she wanted a little outside stuff either, like a lot of square husbands would. And sex was the most important thing in life, after all. But, son of a bitch, was it asking too much to expect him to contribute his share to the family bankroll in some legitimate way? God knew she worked hard and paid her way. If you added up their years together, aside from his small, infrequent windfalls from this or that job or scheme, she'd practically supported the guy.
"You honest-to-god believe you make a living at this, and stay out of jail?" she sneered.
"Sure," Sid replied enthusiastically, an eager look on his pretty features. "It's like selling a high class service, and you know what a good salesman I am. There'll be none of this drunken-sailor-on-the-waterfront business. All I do is develop a list of clients, I mean like maybe big corporations who want to entertain buyers, stuff like that. My partner delivers the chicks at the right time and place, and we split a fat fee."
"Just like that, eh? Oh that's great, great, Sid baby. You'll be a big tycoon yet. Prince of the Pimps." She rolled her black eyes mockingly. "And not only prosties either, right? What's this crap a-bout dope too?"
"No, not dope, Rita. I'd never fool around with that," he shook his head piously. "I just happen to have a connection where I can supply the customers with a little pot, marijuana, as part of the package if they want it. But I'd never screw around with heroine or morphine."
"What's the difference, you schnook?" said Rita, annoyed at his naivete. "They're all illegal."
"Yeah, honey, but pot is harmless stuff. It's not as bad for you as booze, even. The only reason it's illegal is the booze industry lobbied to get laws passed and kill the competition from pot. Plenty of perfectly respectable people smoke it ... You see, the thing is, laws or no laws, people want stuff like broads and pot and they're gonna get them. So what's wrong with picking up a buck giving the public what it wants?"
"Just like they wanted storm windows, huh?" She remembered what a fiasco he'd made of that business. He'd wound up frittering away his customer's down payments, then couldn't deliver what they'd bought-crappy stuff anyway-and, as usual, she'd had to bail him out. He probably could have gone to jail for that little mess too. It wasn't that he was basically dishonest, she thought exasperatedly, just weak and foolish.
"Aw, Rita, why do you want to keep bringing that up?" said Sid, boyishly abashed. "I've apologized a hundred times already."
"Because you're a fool, Sid," she shot back, her black eyes flashing anger. "Honest to Christ, sometimes I feel like slapping you silly."
Their eyes met quickly at the significance of her remark, before he lowered his chastely. Sid slid into a chair and Rita rose to confront him, towering over him in her spiked heels, her stong, sinuous legs spraddled.
"You don't see me getting into one scrape after another, do you?" she said aggressively. "Where in hell do you think we'd be right now if I wasn't out there dancing every night? You think belly dancing is play? You think it's fun? Well, it's goddam hard, sweaty work, buster. But I keep myself in shape and I do it night after night, and it's mostly to take care of you . ... Sometimes I wonder if you're worth it."
Sid sat passively, his eyes lowered, unable to face her righteous anger. Yes, she kept herself in shape all right, she reflected proudly, suddenly a-ware of her body. Her hands touched her firm hips and slid up over her flat, hard stomach to cup the muscular, cone-shaped breasts that were beginning to flutter with her growing annoyance at Sid. As she did so, a pang of sexual craving stabbed at her loins and seemed to fan her exasperation.
"Goddam you, you little worm," she spat. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" So saying, she swung at him as hard as she could and caught him on the jaw with a sweeping roundhouse blow that snapped his head violently backward.
Sid uttered a yelp of pain as he covered his face with his hands. Through his fingers, she could see tears come into his glassy eyes, and a drop of blood appeared at one corner of his fragile mouth. She smiled broadly, loving the sight of his pain and fear. Her prominent white teeth were those of a carnivorous jungle creature. The mocking black eyes flashed with lust, both sexual and sadistic. Hot waves radiating from the pit of her belly told her she must have her way with him, right now.
"What's the matter, baby?" she asked with deceptive soothing. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. Ifs for your own good. You know that. Sometimes you're bad and have to be punished, isn't that right?"
She reveled with a sense of supreme power as Sid's fear-glazed eyes watched her from behind his fingers.
"You won't hit me again?" he whined.
"I didn't say that." Her voice was syrupy gentle, but she raised her hand again in a threating gesture and grinned to see him flinch. "It's just that I want you to know I have to do it for your own good, when you're bad."
"Rita, you're bad too!" he blurted suddenly, almost shrieking, as he doubled his body and tried to cover his head against the blow he knew would come. As if trying to get it all out before being struck into silence, he babbled quickly: "You cheat on me. You go to bed with anything, boys, girls, cats, dogs. You think I don't know?"
He hunched in the chair, sniveling, and a first sob escaped his throat. Rita let the moment lengthen out purposely, her band raised, relishing his misery.
"You little snot!" she shouted, and brought her hand down swiftly, connecting in a karate chop in the hollow of his neck.
"Oooooooo...." Sid screamed in pain, clutching at his neck and falling from the chair. He dropped to his knees at her feet. Doubled over on the floor between her sturdily spread and firmly planted high heels, he sobbed over and over: "Please don't hit me again, please don't hit me again...."
"So you don't think I've got a right to a little fun, eh?" she hissed furiously. "You don't think supporting a lousy little bum like you gives me that right, eh?" She sure as hell did have the right, she fancied self-righteously. This little pop-off would have to be knocked back into line. Oh, he was good sex all right, and he was going to be especially good today. But, after all, he should realize his kind of sex wasn't the only kind. The snot-nosed nerve of him, trying to put her down. Boys and girls and cats and dogs indeed.!
"Stop your sniveling," she ordered, prodding him as painfully as possible with her pointed toe. "And pull your pants down. You're going to get a whipping."
"Oh, please, Rita. I'll never talk back again," Sid begged in a panicked little voice from his supplicant position.
"I said, pull your pants down!" She kicked his fetally knotted form over onto its back and glared at him, her nostils flaring. His eyes rolling in fear, Sid began to unbuckle his belt. When he had unzipped the front of his pants, she caught the bottoms of them and yanked them off him.
"Now, undress. Take off everything."
He stood shakily, still hunched over, as if fearing another blow at any second, and began unbuttoning his shirt. Rita's eyes reflected her pleasure as she examined his white legs, visibly trembling at the knees. He had a slender but nicely fleshed and soft figure which she adored.
Sid paused, now stripped to just his shorts, his tear-filled eyes looking at her beseechingly.
"I said everything," she commanded gruffly. "Get those shorts off."
As he moved to comply. Rita sucked in her breath at the sight of his complete nudity. She observed that he too was sexually aroused. The thought of the delights that were to come, the pleasures she was about to take upon his yielding white body, caused her own body to twitch juicily. Grinning evilly at her cowering husband, she could feel her breasts pucker and harden. Slowly, she slipped his belt from his trousers.
"Assume the position!"
She read the defeat in his eyes. He was no longer crying. In the watery eyes she saw a mingling of submissive despair and rapt fascination, the way a cornered deer might gaze at its stalker. Silently and obediently, Sid shuffled to the sofa while she followed behind, brandishing the belt.
He assumed the position she had taught him long ago, placing a pillow under himself so that his buttocks were elevated to better receive her punishment. Rita gently laid the belt along his bared back and between his tightly constricted cheeks while she undressed herself. , "Don't be afraid, baby. It won't hurt ... too much," she smilingly soothed him as she slithered out of her dress. She slid her panties over her hips and down her strong legs, her hands caressing the hard flexing thigh and calf muscles. Sid's large, sad eyes, she saw, glinted in reaction to the sight of her moist nudity.
She unsnapped her bra and let it fall, releasing the ample cones of her breasts. Looking down at them, she cupped them lovingly, fondling the bullet-shaped brown spikes which capped them. The nipples puckered and throbbed at her clutching self-attention. She felt the firm appendages hardening and swelling under her palms as her anticipation grew more excited. As she picked up the belt from Sid's behind, she touched herself boldly, lower down. A wave of excruiciating desire coursed through her body.
"Are you ready?" she demanded cruelly.
Sid's only reply was a muffled whimper as he hid his face in the soft cushions. Raising the belt to deal for the first blow, she saw the skin on his fleshy buttocks crawling in fear of the racking pain that was about to strike.
Crack! She laid the leather lash smartly and squarely across the two trembling cheeks. Sid gave an agonized little squeal as she stood back to watch the pink welt appear. It did so in a matter of seconds, standing out lividly against the whiteness. Rita swallowed wetly at the sight of it, her fury and excitement rising.
Crack! Crack! In quick succession, she crisscrossed the first throbbing scar with two more. Sid howled his pain in louder and more pitiable tones with each blow. She felt no pity, only a raging blast furnace of lust and fury as she abused him. The smart-ass little twerp. She'd show him. Crack! Crack!
"Turn over!" she bellowed, her jutting mamillaries quivering with rage and the strain of her labors. As Sid groaningly turned, the sight of his rigid nudity caused her thighs to jerk together. She wiggled pelvically in the talons of her passion.
Crack! Crack! Crack! She struck mercilessly. On the third slashing blow, Sid screamed and doubled up in pain and she realized she shouldn't have hit him just there; it could cause real injury.
"Straighten out," she sneered, and he did so, although with some apparent difficulty. Wadding up the belt, she flung it into his face, the sharp buckle grazing him just above the right eye.
Dropping to her knees, she commenced to perform a symphony of cruel violence upon the tortured keyboard of Sid's body. Her slapping, pounding hands and sharp fingernails beat and slashed at his chest, stomach, hips, thighs. Sid lay with eyes squinted tightly shut now, offering no defense a-gainst the stinging blows and jabs. His only sound was the series of small, high-pitched whimpers coming from deep in his throat.
Rita paused, looking from his throbbing masculinity to his tortured face and back again. "Now, you naughty, bad boy! Now you're really going to get it, do you hear?" she screamed.
She grasped him cruelly, digging her fingernails in, and put her mouth upon him, cramming as much of him as possible between her rasping white teeth. His cry of anguish sent a blast of ecstasy through her. Belaboring him harshly with teeth and tongue, she had to suppress an almost overpowering urge to bite, to bite down as hard as she could and hear him scream as he writhed between her clamped jaws
... But no, she had other ways, better ways, even more gratifying to herself, to finish him off.
Releasing her cringing victim, she stood above him for a moment. Her heaving chest gasped rapturously for air, her breasts rising and falling heavily, the throbbing brown nipples angrily distended.
With a cry of attack, she descended upon him again, clutching him with one hand and roughly guiding him to her. Her thrust to encompass him was one of brutal savagery that brought another squeal of pain from him. Her own coarse grunt at the instant of plunging contact was an exultation of sadistic triumph.
She grabbed his head, twisting her fingers painfully in his hair, and pulled his face up to receive a rubbery nipple. Having thus stiffled his slobbery moaning, she quickened the cadence of her plunging attack, battering him heavily again and again.
Until, at the very moment his face went a deep crimson and she felt him bursting within her, her ecstasy exploded and rocked her being like a bomb blast. Every inch of her muscular body shuddered violently, and one long, wailing scream started low in her throat and came tearing out to reverberate off the walls.
Then victim and conqueror collapsed together in a ravaged, sweating heap of sated flesh.
At last, Sid reached up and patted her firm buttocks. "That was good, momma," he praised.
"Thanks, honey," she replied, looking tenderly down into his eyes. "You see? Like I told you, it's for your own good."