Chapter 4

The shower was hot and brought a pink glow to Cora's skin. We soaped each other slowly and savoringly, kissing and exploring and playing as if we were kids. Her fingers were like tiny electric currents picking at my body. Wherever she touched, I tingled. Finally I wrapped her in my arms, brought her spine and buttocks against my front, and held her under the shower stream. She put her head back and her blonde hair hung down over my shoulder as I gently fastened my teeth on her skin. I felt the tremors ripple through her.

"Good, Matt," she breathed.

"Yeah," I mumbled.

"I never want to leave."

"You're thinking 'bout going for a walk in the park maybe?" I kidded. I brought my hands up to her breasts.

She put her hands on top of mine. I felt pressure from her buttocks. "I mean I want to live here with you."

"Sure," I nodded, continuing to nuzzle. But inside my skull an image had clicked into place. I saw the face of Fletcher Ayers. I couldn't rid myself of him. And somehow, the expression on his face seemed caught between surprise and contempt.

I took my mouth from the dead Fletcher's wife and turned her. She leaned back slightly from the waist, her pelvis fitting tight against me. Her eyes unblinking now and asked questions. "What is it?"

I attempted to play it light. I leaned forward and kissed her. But she put me off and remained curious. "Matt, what are you thinking?"

"Nothing."

"You're hedging," she said. "What have I done? What have I said? ... Oh." Teeth caught her lower Up. She clamped for a moment and then she said, "Was it that bit about my living with you? Does the idea frighten you? Are you that much of a bachelor?"

"Yeah, maybe that's it," I said, still attempting to keep it light.

But she was dead serious. "Are you remembering Fletch again?" she asked.

I said nothing, bent, kissed her neck.

"You are," she said from above me. Her arms went around me and she lifted her front to me. "Oh, Matt," she cried out, "how can I convince you that Fletcher is dead, that what we have found between us is right and natural, that last night, today, have been, and are, beautiful hours for me? We're good for each other, Matt!"

"I know, baby," I said gruffly, lowering my head and darting to kiss the brown tips of her breasts.

She caught those breasts and held them for me. "Then don't be afraid of what we have found together," she breathed.

I rolled a nipple with my tongue and she squirmed to feed me. She lowered an arm and brought a palm up under my stiffness. She clasped expertly. "I never had any of this with Fletch," she whispered. "We made love, yes, but what we had was different. And I'm forgetting all of it very quickly, darling. It seems as if Fletcher was a hundred years ago. Can you understand?"

I didn't, but at the moment I wasn't even going to try. Because her palm was working vigorously now and her body had heated and she was attempting to work her pelvis into me. I straightened and lifted her out of the tub. She reclasped me immediately and we left the bath to drip water all the way to the bed. At the edge she turned me and pushed me down into a sitting position. Then she straddled my legs and moved in close to me as her hand continued to work. Her breasts bobbed vigorously at my eyes. And I wanted her. I slid a finger up into her golden cunt as I attempted to lift my hips up to her.

"Just before we come...." she hissed, her hand moving faster.

"There's no time!" I managed.

The swelling inside me was moving. I could feel it gathering force and surging up along my shaft.

She was quick. She fitted herself on me just as my climax burst and she slid down me with a long groan. We became clamped and rotted, the lone movement the spasms that passed through us.

And then she snapped my head up and her lips slammed down on mine. They spread wide and our tongues clashed in the long kiss as I went back on the bed and took her with me. She came up on her knees and her hips took on a new, almost frantic motion. She pumped hard and deep. She was using me now. My blood-gorged pole of muscle was a tool of pleasure for her. Matthew Law was forgotten; the tool was all that existed for her.

She sat up. Her mouth was drawn, her eyes rolled up and out of focus, her hips flailed me. She reached out with both hands. Our palms met, our fingers became interlocked. And it was as if she had found new support. Her hips moved faster, her breasts jounced and inarticulate sounds came from her throat. Finally she cried out and exploded in a frenzy of movement.

She spilled from me. I rolled with her, remained inside her. But she was unconscious, her eyes closed down and her breathing in gasps. I kissed her. I kept my mouth on her lips until I felt her stir. The eyelids popped open. She shuddered, got me in focus, and she knew. Her hands came to me and clasped. She returned the kiss. A long time later I removed myself from her slowly.

"Lordy," she breathed, "I can't believe you-and I can't get enough of you. What am I to do?" Her hand cradled me; she squeezed softly. "I feel weird. I don't ever want to put on clothing again. I want to remain naked forever. What's come over me? Why do I feel this way, Matthew?"

"It'll pass," I grinned.

She remained somber. "No." She shook her blonde head. "I don't want it to pass. I want to remain naked and with you forever."

"Sooner or later we've got to eat, babe," I teased.

"You can eat me, and I'll eat you," she said. "Well be food for each other."

"Now the true you is coming out, huh? You're a cannibal, is that what you're telling me?"

"I'm telling you, Matthew Law, that I think I love you. It's crazy, I know, but I think I might have been in love with you for a long time and didn't know it."

"Yeah, baby, that part is crazy," I nodded. And it was.

"Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not."

"Well, why can't I love you?"

"This is sex, baby. Nothing more."

"Sex is part of love."

"Sure, but-"

"Sex is a natural act."

"You also can have sex without love," I informed her.

"But can you have love without sex?"

"Well ... I doubt it."

"We're good in sex, Matthew Law."

"No hang-ups," I admitted.

"And right now, this instant, hanging on to your penis, I feel as if it's the most normal act in the world. It's not dirty or obscene or-"

"I get your point, doll."

"It's a sex act, and it's natural."

"So it seems."

"I love you, Matthew Law."

"Baby-"

The jangle of the phone ripped at us. I stiffened and Cora jerked. But her hand continued to hold me. "Don't answer it," she said. "I remember last night. You had to go away from me last night."

"It's only one o'clock in the afternoon, honey," I reminded her. 'I'm not due at headquarters until this evening-and nobody from there will be calling me in this early. Not even Lieutenant Crowder."

I started to turn from her. She continued to hold me. She shook her head. Her eyes pleaded. "No. Let it ring."

I debated. The jangle continued. The caller was patient. And the creepy feeling began to move over me. The rings took on an echo of urgency.

"No, Matt," Cora said softly. She wriggled down the bed and her mouth found me.

New fires flashed alive inside me. I caught her head, held her. I didn't want her to quit. Her lips were damp and warm, her tongue flashed. She shifted up on her knees and her head began to bob. The fires flashed out through my body.

The phone continued to ring....

I tore myself from her and rolled from the bed before she could recapture me. I stood panting and looking down at her. She remained on her hands and knees, staring up at me, the eyes wide and the lips parted, her face caught in an expression of not understanding.

It took all of my willpower to turn from her. I pounded out into the front room and swept up the phone receiver.

"Sergeant Law?"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but I could not place the owner. "Yeah?" I growled.

"Ask Tommy Polar who killed Michelle Rivers," said the voice.

"Who is this?" I demanded.

"Just ask Tommy," said the voice.

And then there was a click in my ear and I was left standing with a dead phone receiver in my hand. I scowled down at it, attempting to place the voice. Nothing clicked into place in my mind. I put the phone together and stood scowling.

"Darling?"

Cora had left the bed. She stood framed in the doorway. She came to me, her head cocked slightly. She put her body against my front. "What is it?" she asked.

I left her, went to the deep chair, sat on .the edge, searched my mind for the owner of the voice. Cora got down on her knees before me, reached with both hands to clasp me. "Are you going to be leaving me again?" Her eyes searched mine and then she answered her own question. She nodded, "I think you are."

I put on a crooked grin for her and kissed her lips. "You're a wench," I said. "A sexy, desirable wench."

"I like to feel you," she said simply. "Are you going to leave me?"

"To make a phone call," I said.

"Who are you going to call?"

"Crowder. It's business, hon."

"I don't like business," she pouted, her fingers beginning to do tricks. "Business interrupts."

I stood up, kept the grin. "Hey, none of that. You're getting serious again."

"I'm dead serious about you, Matt," she nodded from the sitting position on the floor. "You bring out every ounce of woman I ever thought I had inside me. And you want me. Look at you. Not hard. Not soft. You want."

I felt myself begin to grow immediately and I turned from her. I went to the phone, risked a look over my shoulder. She still sat on the floor, her long legs curled back against her buttocks now, her breasts moving temptingly with her breathing as she sat with her spine straight and the gray-green eyes rooted on me.

I attempted to shake my mind around to police work, and I called Crowder at his home. He was not happy with me. "How come you didn't come in with Rivers this morning?" he bawled.

"I was afraid I'd hit him," I said truthfully.

"He's all creep," Crowder admitted, "but you didn't fill out a report, either."

"I didn't have anything to report."

"Damnit, Law, that isn't the way our department operates!"

"Okay, so I screwed up. Lieutenant, If I had stayed in his presence, I think I would have mashed him. But forget him for the moment. I just got a call from some dude who wouldn't identify himself...."

I told Crowder about the call, and he snapped, "Who is Tommy Polar?"

I told him. And then I said, "I want to check him out this afternoon. Is it okay for me to drive out to this club and-"

"Get with it," Crowder interrupted.

"And how 'bout putting a tracer on my phone, just in case I get another call?"

"Right. I'll have people there within the hour."

Cora was not pleased when I put the phone together. "Why do you have to go this afternoon?" she pouted. "You said you're not supposed to go to work until this evening."

"This may be important, honey."

"Are you going to tell me why it's so important?"

"No."

She clamped her lips briefly. I knew she wanted to snap. But she remained clammed. She had been a cop's wife once. She knew.

Then she trailed me into the bedroom. "Get into some clothing," I told her. "We've got some phone men coming here."

"I can't," she said. "I don't have any clothing here. We ripped up my dress, remember?"

"But you went out early this morning."

"In my coat, I told you. And I didn't pick up any clothing. I don't want clothing. I want to remain naked."

"Honey, we've got men coming here," I said, failing to keep all of the edge out of my voice.

"Can't I remain in the bedroom with the door closed?"

"Well...."

"It's that or leave now," she said.

She was abruptly challenging me. She was unmoving, and her chin jutted a little, and her eyes bored. She suddenly was waiting. I could throw her out or I could keep her. It was decision time for me.

"Okay," I said gruffly, turning to my clothing, "you stay in the bedroom."

She came to me then. She was loose again, almost sultry in her pleasure. She went up on her tiptoes and kissed me lightly on the cheek, and then she grinned. "I feel good," she said softly. "I won a round."

I slapped her playfully on her bare rump and she spun from me to prance to the bed. She lay back across its width and cocked her heels on the edge. She was up on her elbows and she watched me dress from between her lifted knees. There was a cat smile curving her lips now and once she impishly stuck out her tongue at me.

Finally she asked, "How long will I have to wait for your return this time?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

"All afternoon and all night?"

"Babe, I've got work to do."

"All right," she nodded, her mood sobering. "I understand, Matthew."

She lay back and I couldn't see her face as I flashed her a look. Her knees remained up and spread. I went to her, kissed the top of each knee, and then knotted my tie.

"I think this is going to be a long Tuesday," she said.

The phone boys were experts. They were quick in their work. After they departed, I opened the bedroom door. Cora lay propped against the headboard of the bed, a magazine planted against her bare thighs, the glasses on her nose again. She looked at me over the top of the glasses. "Are you going to leave now?"

"I have to."

"Sure," she nodded. But her eyes continued to challenge.

I went to her. She spread slightly. I bent and kissed her special spot. Her hand came down, her fingers curled in my hair, and I felt the ripples begin to come alive inside her.

I got out while I could.

Driving across the city, I was restless in my mind, my thoughts scrambled between Cora Ayers and the weird death of Michelle Rivers, the people involved, the anonymous telephone call. Who had been on the other end of the line? The voice had been male. And obviously, the caller was someone who knew I was investigating.

The familiar ring of that voice bugged me. I couldn't place the owner and yet I was positive I had heard that same voice within the last twenty-four hours, probably had stood face to face with the owner. Could the voice have belong to Archie Table? It didn't seem likely. Archie's voice leaned to falsetto. My caller had not. On the other hand, perhaps Archie Table had the knack to turn on and turn off the falsetto. I needed to know.

Maybe the caller had been Tommy Polar. But that hardly made sense since the caller had intimated that Polar was responsible for Michelle Rivers' death-unless Polar was attempting to toss me a red herring. Was Polar attempting to guide me away from the killer by turning me to himself? Who would Polar be protecting? Archie Table?

William Darby Rivers was a candidate. William Darby Rivers was a warped man. He could have a warped sense of humor. So far, the death of his daughter seemed almost a joke to him, so why not make light of the hunt for her killer? It was Rivers' kind of thinking, in my opinion. Of course, William Darby Rivers might also have some kind of beef going with Tommy Polar. Polar was a stud, if I could believe Diane Bowers. Polar had had Michelle often while-it was said-her father lusted. Was it possible that jealousy was involved?

And there was a man named Harold Boswell. Who was he, and where, exactly, did he fit with Rivers and the clan?

I hit a red light and sat shaking my head in consternation. Why did the death of Michelle Rivers have to happen to me just at the time I was discovering my Golden Girl? The thought of Cora Ayers turned me on. I felt my groin stir, and I shifted on the car seat. Cora was everything I had ever imagined her to be in my wildest dreams. And she had got to me fast. Nor was I sure where we were going. Obviously she could not remain naked and holed up in my apartment forever. But what was to happen when we both returned to normalcy? What was to happen when we awakened some morning and both of us had regained our senses? Would she merely leave my bed, put on her coat, and walk out my door, never to return? Or was that morning ever to arrive?

There was marriage, of course. Cora Ayers and I could marry....

I shook myself and crossed the intersection on the green light and stepped on the gas as the avenue opened in front of me. Traffic had thinned now. I was out where there were trees and other green things. I turned into a boulevard. The tennis club was only a couple of miles away.

I thought about marriage. I thought about Cora Ayers and I speaking vows together, living together forever. I thought about awakening with a new day, leaving the bed, clothing our bodies, eating breakfast at a small table, looking out a small kitchen window on a green backyard, the backyard of a fresh white bungalow where the flowers were bright in color and the grass was sculptured and glistened in sunshine, and there was a charcoal burner, and webbed outdoor chairs, and perhaps even a little fish pond.

I thought about turning back into the kitchen, to fin Cora at the sink, her back to me as she rinsed the dishes She would be shapely in the thin, cotton housedress, content in her chore, relaxed in our new-found comfort. And she would be desirable. So desirable as she stood there, rinsing the dishes and not even looking at me. I would cross the kitchen and move my palms up the outside of her golden thighs, taking the dress high with the movement. And her buttocks would be naked and inviting and perhaps twitching slightly. And she would murmur and put back her head as I fitted myself against her.

She would forget the dishes, but she would not turn to me. Rather, she would arch slowly and wait for my invasion. And then, when I was inside her, she would settle on me and we would be true lovers....

A rattle escaped my throat and I almost climbed the back of a dented sedan that had stopped to make a left turn in front of me. I cruised around the sedan. I was hard. I took my foot from the accelerator and coasted. I had to accept. Cora Ayers was inside me deep.

The tennis club was a widespread layout of tailored grass, yellow cabanas, white courts, long swimming pool, and bar and professional shop off to the right of the courts. Inside the pro shop I was told Tommy Polar might be at the bar, but the bartender shook his black head and told me to try the courts. I scanned the flat slabs of glistening concrete, the tanned bodies sliding like crabs across the surfaces as the tiny white balls snapped back and forth between competitors. No Polar. I returned to the pro shop and again asked for the club professional.

I could try Mr. Polar's quarters-but Mr. Polar normally did not like to be disturbed.

Polar wouldn't mind today. I was a friend. Where were the quarters?

Well ... I could try the far end of the left row of cabanas.

I cut across the swimming pool area to save steps-and they swarmed down on me as if they were vultures and I were raw rabbit. Nanette Rivers clamped one arm and fitted her breasts around my left biceps, and Fran Nature clasped the other arm to trap my right biceps. They were bubbly and prancy and cannibalistic. Nanette picked at my left earlobe with white teeth and Fran bobbed her lips across my right cheek while drawing my palm into her crotch.

I put them off with a growl and stared around the pool. No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to us, but I felt as if I was on display. Nanette clasped my arm again. "Hi, big man," she chortled. "Wow, are we glad to see you. Today has been a bore. Strictly Dullsville. I mean until now."

On the other side of me, Fran Nature bubbled, "You must be psychic, Mr. Law. Just a few seconds ago I was remembering how large you are and then I look up-and there you are!"

She wore a black bikini. It was little more than two strips of black cloth; it covered nothing. Her breasts spilled out and her womanhood bulged. Nanette was in pink. Two more strips. Her breasts buds were alive and there was a shallow crevice that disappeared down into the juncture of her thighs.

"I'm looking for Tommy Polar," I managed.

"Oh, come on now," chided Nanette, "We know you're not one of those kind."

"He wants Tommy when he can have us?" Fran Nature giggled. She stepped into me again, rammed her breasts against my chest. "Why?" she challenged.

I moved away from her. "I want Polar," I growled.

"Tommy is down the line, in one of the cabanas," said Nanette. "Fran, do you remember the number?"

"I think it's sixty-nine," she giggled.

"Be serious," Nanette laughed.

"Okay. Twenty-five."

Nanette nodded and hooked her arm in mine. "Come Sergeant," she said. "We'll lead you."

Fran moved in from the right to also hang on. I attempted to shake them off. "I can find it."

But they were firm. They stuck to me. "Not without us," said Nanette. She looked around my front. "Right, Fran?"

"He needs a guide," she nodded.

They marched me along the pool apron until a voice called out. "Hey, what about me?"

We stopped and turned. She was a long, lithe-looking Negro girl in a white bikini and stretched out on a blue lounge chair. She swung her feet down to the apron and stood. She towered. She was lean in muscle, narrow in hip, near-flat in chest-and she had the longest fingers I had ever seen.

She came to us, almost insolent in manner. She walked with her hips thrust forward as if offering her pelvis. Her thick lips had been painted white and white polish gleamed from the nails of her fingers and toes. Her eyes were large and round, the white circle around her black pupils wide. Those eyes danced over me speculatively.

Nanette squeezed me. "Kit," she said to the black girl, "meet Law-in name and profession."

The black girl did not smile. Her dark eyes remained inquisitive. It was as if I were something she might step on if stepping suddenly became her whim.

Instinctively, I did not like her.

She looked at Nanette. "Where are you going?"

"To find Tommy."

"Sergeant Law wants him," giggled Fran Nature from my other side.

The black eyes were back on me. She investigated up and down. "What for?" she asked bluntly.

"Oh, not for what you're thinking, Kit darling," Nanette laughed. "Sergeant Law is man, all man, believe me."

"That right?" the black girl asked, continuing to stare at me. But now her eyes were probing mine, and it was as if she sensed my animosity. Her expression came very close to being a sneer before she said, "I think I'll tag along."

"Why not?" Nanette looked at Fran again.

I felt Fran shrug. "Sure, why not?"

I needed them like I needed worms, but they piloted me to the cabana. And I went along because I wanted Polar. I wanted him desperately now. With him in hand, I could reassume command. I could tell my escorts to get lost. I could turn on a little toughness with Polar and send the trio scooting. I didn't have any trouble with men. I could pound them into submission. But women were something else.

I sensed the ruse the instant Fran Nature put her hand on the doorknob of unit twenty-five without knocking and pushed the door open to the air-conditioned dimness. I was inside, Fran and Nanette still clinging to me, Kit closing the door behind us. I heard a lock bolt snap home. I stared briefly on the interior of the cabana. It was rustic in design with a large double bed opposite me. The bed was mussed, looked as if it had been used recently, the covering and top sheet kicked down to the foot, the bottom sheet wrinkled and gathered in areas. The pillows were punched, one at the foot, the other at the head of the bed. And the unit was empty. No Tommy Polar.

I started to turn, and then I felt the fingers on me. They came around from behind. They were long and black and spread slightly and white nails gleamed in the dimness and they knew their way to where I lived the hardest. I was free in an instant and growing fast as the fingers manipulated.

The black girl breathed against the back of my neck, "You're a large one, shore nuff, Whitey."

I attempted to wrench free, but Nanette and Fran were on me, Nanette slamming her lips against my mouth and prying with her tongue while her fingers picked at my tie and shirt front, and Fran moving down to her knees in front of me, her fingers opening my trousers and taking them with my shorts down my legs.

The black girl was a hand expert, those long fingers playing deftly along my length as she manipulated faster. I was naked now with only my shoes and socks on and I was trapped. The trio had become aphrodisiac. Kit remained behind me, cooing against my neck, her breath hot and her black hand flashing. Fran had peeled out of her bikini top and now she remained on her knees in front of me, watching the manipulation avidly, her eyes wide, her lips parted, and the bottom of her bikini forgotten. It was as if she was waiting for something. And Nanette had stripped and gone down on the floor and was wriggling her head into Fran's thighs.

On my back, Kit was breathing rapidly. "Go, Whitey, go!"

I went. The long warm stream of my ejection arched. And Fran bobbed from her knees, her head snapping and her mouth opening wide. But she was off target.

"Missed," she grinned.

She reached out and grasped me and held on, her white fingers moving to interlock with the black. She came up slightly on her knees and I was conscious of Nanette working deeper into her thighs. I saw Fran's eyes change, begin to take on a passionate blankness. Her head bobbed forward, her tongue curled around me. She attempted to remove the black fingers from me.

"I've got to have," she breathed.

But the black girl had ideas, too. "Me first, baby," she hissed from behind me. "I did all the work."

And then Kit was pushing me to the bed. I turned. She was naked and flat, her breasts mere buds. But her cunt was large and a perfect triangle. She pushed me down to the edge of the bed and whisked my shoes and socks from my feet, and then those white-painted lips came up the inside of my thigh. Any ideas I had had of slamming her aside were gone.

She moved into me, the mouth and teeth dancing. And across the room, Nanette was raking the bikini bottom from Fran to get closer to her work while Fran was straight up from her knees now, her palms spread and plastered against her thighs and her head thrown back, eyes closed, tiny sounds coming from her throat as she built to the intense orgasm.

Kit fitted her long body on me and rode hard and fast. Her lean hips were oiled, and inside, she was a hot cavern. She climaxed quickly, lifting herself and then slamming down hard on me, and it was as if the climax drained all the strength from her. She sagged immediately, attempted to roll from me, but I caught her. I lifted my head, looked deep into her eyes. They looked dazed.

"Easy, Whitey, easy," she murmured.

"Easy? One little ride had finished her? I couldn't believe.

But she attempted to put me off as I rolled her onto her back. She pleaded, "Wait a minute. I have to rest."

I didn't wait for anything. I rode her high. I hooked my arms in under her legs and forced her up on her shoulder blades. Her eyes popped wide and she shook her head as I rammed. She lurched. "Oh god," she cried out, "I can't take it again!"

But she didn't have a choice now. I suddenly felt in command. And I pumped at her hard and enjoyed her writhing protests. It seemed like rape, and I knew fresh excitement with each moan that ripped from her.

And then we had company. Nanette was on her knees and straddling the blackhead. She settled on Kit and twisted her head so that her lips could find mine. I felt Fran behind me, her fingers and tongue working. Our passions mounted and I felt as if I was exploding.

A long time later I lay locked with Nanette Rivers, our bodies working together in a slow, relaxed rhythm while Fran Nature lay beside us so that I could kiss her breasts and she could fondle. The black girl was on the floor now, spent and twitching. Nanette breathed, "You're something else, Matt Law. No man is supposed to be like you."

"No man is," I told her confidently. Beside us, Fran pouted, "My turn. I want some." I moved from Nanette to Fran. "Let's stay here forever," she murmured.

On the floor, the black girl groaned.